Etiqueta: plaza de toros

  • Las bullangas de Barcelona: quema de conventos de frailes

    Se daban desde algun tiempo en Barcelona funciones de toros, y con motivo de la celebridad de los días de la Reina Cristina, se anunció en los periódicos la séptima funcion para el dia 25 de julio, que era festivo, por ser Santiago, Patron de España. Los toros que se habian lidiado en la funcion anterior habian sido bravísimos y escelentes á juicio de los entendedores; asi es que el anfiteatro estaba lleno en el día 25. Quiso la casualidad que los toros fueron muy mansos ó malísimos en aquel dia, y exasperados los espectadores, despues de los gritos, vociferaciones y confusion que se permite en aquellos espectáculos, dieron principio al barullo arrojando á la Plaza un sin número de abanicos; tras de ellos siguieron los bancos; luego las sillas, y por fin alguna coluna de los palcos. Rompieron la maroma que forma la contrabarrera, y con un pedazo de ella una turba increíble de muchachos, con una espantosa algazara, arrastró el último toro por las calles de la ciudad.

    Apenas la jente que venia de la funcion empezaba á dar su ordinario paseo par la Rambla, á saber, á cosa de las siete y media, cuando empezó ya la alarma y se vieron arrojar algunas piedras á las ventanas del convenio de Agustinos descalzos. La guardia del fuerte de Atarazanas cerró el rastrillo y se puso sobre las armas, porque habia tambien tropel en el convento de Franciscanos, que le es muy inmediato.

    Preludios fueron aquellos de un tumulto; pero nadie ó muy pocos creían en él, porque la jente se iba de sí misma retirando á sus casas; porque en la turba no habia ni un solo hombre; y porque, á nuestro entender, nada habia de premeditado. Sin embargo no tardamos mucho tiempo en salir del error. Tanta verdad es, que innumerables veces se orijinan cosas muy grandes de muy pequeños principios: y que de ordinario es mucho mayor el ímpetu y precipítacion, con que se despeñan los males, que fué el impulso que les dieron sus autores: pues es mucha verdad que no está en mano de quien arrojó el fuego en el edificio, poner tasa y término á sus estragos.

    De las ocho y media á las nueve de la noche se iban formando algunos grupos en la plaza del Teatro y en la de la Boquería, que engrosaban por momentos. En vano intentó separarlos la guardia del Teatro y algunos soldados de caballería destacados de Atarazanas. Se iban de una parte para reunirse en otra; se conocía que habia intencion decidida; y desde entonces fué fácil prever la borrasca.

    Clamoreando estaba el pueblo en diferentes puntos de la ciudad, y como el Capitan Jeneral y el Gobernador de la plaza se hallaban ausentes, el infatigable Teniente de Rey, Ayerve, en vano intentaba acudir donde mas amenazase el peligro, pues el odio habia pasado de raya, y mas se embraveciera cuanto mayor fuera el esfuerzo para contenerle.

    Ardió el primero el convento de Carmelitas descalzos, y subió de punto la audacia, conseguido el primer triunfo.

    Corría la tea abrasadora por todas las calles de la ciudad, y el segundo acometimiento se verificó en el convento de Carmelitas calzados. Pero la cosa iba con tal ímpetu y presteza, que arden á la vez las puertas de varios conventos, y sus moradores despavoridos pueden apenas huir por donde les depara la suerte y en varias direcciones, pereciendo unos cuantos en medio de la confusion y del trastorno.

    No animaba en manera alguna á sus contrarios la esperanza del pillaje, porque lo que no devoraron las llamas se encontró intacto en las iglesias y en las celdas: ni espantaron la ciudad con confusa y alarmante gritería, pues solo resonaban los golpes del martillo que abría los entejados, ó el estrépito de la bóveda que se desplomaba; y con tan estraordinario orden obraban, que parecían los hombres unos trabajadores asalariados por la ciudad, y las mujeres pagadas para alumbrar el trabajo de los hombres. Una parte del pueblo, hombres y mujeres tambien, eran espectadores de aquel terrible espectáculo, y parecia que algunos no acababan de persuadirse de que sus ojos veían; y otros habia que parecia se alegraban, como quien de una vez desempeñaba con el efecto sus deseos y pensamientos.

    El grande y nuevo convento del Seminario, situado en un ángulo de la poblacion, fué atacado por un corto número de personas; defendiéronse los frailes haciendo fuego, é hiriendo á algunos, hicieron volver las espaldas á los demás.

    Iban á pegar fuego al de Capuchinos y Trinitarios calzados; y como las llamas hubieran inevitablemente hecho presa de las casas vecinas, se desistió del intento.

    Tampoco fué incendiado el de Servitas, por la voz que cundió de que el Cuerpo de artillería tiene muy inmediato su almacen de pertrechos.

    Mientras que en una parte de la Ciudad ardian algunos conventos y se incendiaban en la otra, el furor no declinaba en ninguna: antes, á manera de tempestad, volviendo y revolviendo á diversas partes sus recíprocos combates, todo lo llenaba de inquietudes, por la facilidad con que podia prender el fuego en las casas. Y cosa verdaderamente rara, á pesar de que fueron incendiados seis conventos: el de Carmelitas descalzos, el de Carmelitas calzados, el de Dominicos, el de Trinitarios descalzos, el de Agustinos calzados, y las puertas del de los Mínimos, ninguna casa particular sufrió el menor daño; ni nadie fué oprimido de la ruina de los fragmentos que caían y volaban de una á otra parte, ni recibió la menor herida con los encuentros y choques de unos con otros, llevando todos empleadas las manos con varios instrumentos, en tan confuso tropel.

    Ningun convento de Monjas sufrió el menor ataque: ningun clérigo un insulto: ni ninguna fea maldad, que ordinariamente acompañan á semejantes conmociones nocturnas, se cometió en aquella espantosa noche: antes por el contrario muchas casas estaban abiertas sin que nadie recelara que corriera el saco por ellas.

  • Misa en la catedral, Domingo de Resurrección. Una cabalgata a Gracia y Montjuic. La «Compañia Anglo-Americana» en la plaza de toros. Apertura del gran teatro del Liceo de Isabel II: el Liceo, bonito, las mujeres, feas

    High Mass on Easter Sunday

    Our first enterprise, on Easter Sunday, was to endeavor to mount one of the Cathedral towers, and to have, as it was a bright day, a bird’s-eye view of the city and its environs. In prosecution of our plan we entered the body of the church, about half an hour before high mass had ended. The aisles which we had seen all lonely the day before, were crowded with zealous worshipers—the high altar was blazing with a multitude of soft lights; the ceremonial and vestments were very rich; the choir was full, and a fine orchestra (for Barcelona is very musical) aided the sweet-toned organ. High over all, the morning sun streamed through the painted windows, and you could see the incense which was fragrant hefore the altar, curling around the capitals, and clinging to the arches. The whole was deeply impressive, and I could not but observe the contrast of the congregation, in its silent and attentive worship, with the restless, and sometimes noisy devotions of which I had seen so much in Italy. Here were no marchings to and fro; no gazing at pictures; no turning of backs upon the altar; no groups, for conversazione, round the columns; nothing to mar the solemnity of the occasion, or break the echoes of the majestic music, as they swept along the lofty roof, seeming almost to stir to motion the old pennons that hang above the altar, so high, and now so much the worse for time, that their proud quarterings are visible no more. At last, the service came to its end, and the people went their ways to—buy tickets for the theater. At all events, we met a considerable portion of the congregation, thus occupied, when we went down the street soon after. The sacristan would not allow us to ascend the tower without a permit, which it was then too late to procure, so that after straying a little while through the beautiful cloisters, where fine orange and lemon-trees and bright, fragrant flowers charmed away the sadness of the worn gray stone, we returned to our Fonda, to seek the means of visiting some of the environs.

    A ride to Gracia—Montjuich

    After we had waited for an hour, a fellow made his appearance in the court-yard, driving a huge lumbering vehicle, covered with green and gold, very square and peculiar in shape, but, on the whole, sufficiently coachiform, and drawn by a pair of long-tailed blacks, with collars, on which jingled many bells. We made our bargain, and were cheated, of course, as we afterward found; horse and coach-dealing being, here as elsewhere, greatly subversive of moral principle. Away we went, up the Rambla, at a great pace, to the astonishment and apparent amusement of the crowd. Once outside the walls, our coachman gave us the benefit of slow jolts over a rough road to Gracia, a little village some two miles from the city, which is surrounded, and in some degree formed, by country-houses and their appurtenances. No doubt, in the summer season, this excursion may be a pleasant one, but the cold driving wind which came down from the mountains as we took it, made it bleak enough to us. Hedges of roses, it is true, were in luxuriant bloom, and the fertile fields of the Pla (plain) were as green as spring could make them. The aloe and the prickly-pear too, did their best to look tropical, but it was a useless effort, for the wind beat and battered them rudely, and they and the painted torres (towers), or country-boxes, looked uncomfortably out of place, naked, desolate, and chilly. To turn our backs upon the breeze, we directed our driver to carry us to Montjuich, which, as I have said, is a commanding eminence to the southwest, on the left hand as you enter the harbor. Creeping slowly around the outside of the city walls, which are heavy, strong, and well guarded, we passed by the quarter where the forest of tall chimneys indicated the business hive of the manufacturers, and then, crossing a fertile plateau beautifully irrigated and in high cultivation, we were set down at the foot of Montjuich. Up the hill we toiled, faithfully and painfully, on foot. Ford calls it a «fine zig-zag road.» I will testify to the zig-zig—but as to the fineness must beg leave to distinguish. At last we reached the fortress, which sits impregnable upon the summit, and to our chagrin were quietly informed by the sentinel at the postern, that we could not enter, without a permit. This we had not provided, through ignorance of its necessity, and we accordingly put in our claim to their politeness, as strangers. The sentinel called the corporal, the corporal went to his officer, the officer hunted up the governor, and by the same gradations a polite message descended to us, to the effect, that, as we were strangers, the usual requisitions would be waived, if we knew any body in the castle by name, whom we could go through the form of asking for. We knew no one, and being reasonable people, went on our way in ill humor with no one but ourselves. Not being, any of us, military men, which in a company of three, from our land of colonels, was quite a wonder, we persuaded ourselves that we had not lost much, for from the base of the fortress we had a charming view of the white city; its fine edifices, public and private, with their flat roofs and polygonal towers; the harbor, with all its festive banners streaming; the green valley, carrying plenty up into the gorges of the hills; and the sea, rolling far as eye could reach, a few dim specks of canvas here and there whitening its bosom.

    The Plaza de Toros, and Yankee Company

    Returning to the city, we crossed to the Garden of the General, a sweet little spot, prettily laid out, and planted with box and innumerable flowering shrubs, which were in delicious fragrance and bloom. There were fountains and aviaries there; fish-ponds, duck-ponds, and even goose-ponds, and all manner of people, of all sorts and ages. This garden, with a little walk beside it, is the last of a series of beautiful promenades which lead into each other, traversing the whole city, from the groves upon its outskirts to the splendid terraces along the shore.

    By this time we were well-nigh fatigued enough, but there was still an exhibition to be witnessed, which it did not become us, as good patriots, to neglect. The Plaza de Toros, or bull-amphitheater, was the gathering-place of the whole population; not, however, to behold the fierce combats peculiar to its arena, for with such things the tumultuous burghers of Barcelona were not to be trusted. A harmless substitute there was, in the shape of the «Compañia Anglo-Americana,» or Yankee company, who were delighting the sons of the troubadours with their gymnastics. Every body remembers the remoteness of the regions, into which the Haytien dignitary had the assurance to say that our estimable countrymen would follow a bag of coffee. Here was a parallel case. As we entered, Jonathan was performing a hornpipe, on stilts, much more at his ease (it being Sunday) than if he had been at home within sight of Plymouth Rock. He then gave them a wrestling match, after the manner which is popularly ascribed to «the ancients;» afterward, a few classical attitudes, with distortions of muscle, according to the Michael Angelesque models, and, finally, made his appearance as a big green frog, so perfectly natural, both in costume and deportment, that in Paris he would have run the risk, scientific and culinary, of having his nether limbs both galvanized and fried. We paid him the respect of our presence and applause for a little while, and lingered to witness the excitement of the immense assemblage, so strange and picturesque, and to hear their wild cries and saucy jests. The afternoon then being quite well advanced, we were trundled home, in due magnificence, to a worse dinner than we had earned.

    Opening of the Great Opera House—Social Habits of the Barcelonese—Musical Tastes

    About seven in the evening, a kind gentleman of the city called, by arrangement, to conduct me to the opening of the new Opera-house, the Liceo de Ysabel Segunda. There was a crowd around the entrances, and we found it difficult to make our way in, so that I had time enough to see that the façade, which looked paltry by day-light, was no better with the benefit of the grand illumination. The front, however, and some few of the minor arrangements of the interior, were all that could be reasonably found fault with; for the establishment is really magnificent, and full of the appliances of taste and luxury. Its cost was one hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and the stockholders had no doubt of being able to realize the interest of this large sum, and more, from the rent of the elegant shops upon the ground floor. I mention this fact, as an evidence both of enterprise and prosperity. The grand circle of the theater is larger, by measurement, than that of the San Carlo at Naples, or the Scala of Milan; and being finished, like the Italian Opera-house at Paris, with balconies, or galleries, in front of the boxes and slightly below their level, it has a far more graceful and amphitheater-like effect than the perpendicular box-fronts of the Italian houses, and especially the close, dingy walls of the Scala. The ornaments, though abundant, are neither profuse nor tawdry. The magnificent gas chandelier, aided by a thousand lesser lights, developed all the beautiful appointments of the boxes, with their drapery of gold and crimson, and the fine seen, cry, dresses, and decorations of the stage. I had seen nothing but the Italiens of Paris to rival the effect of the whole picture. The boxes of the lower tier are private property belonging to the contributors, or members of the Lyceum. My intelligent companion informed me that this is a species of property in very general request, there being scarcely a respectable family without a box, or, at all events, some special accommodations of its own, in some one of the theaters. The rights of the owners, he told me, are the subject of litigation almost as often as those relating to real property. They (the boxes and the law suits) descend from father to son.

    Each box in the Liceo has two apartments, as usual in Europe. In the outer one, which you enter from the lobby, and which is a sort of retiring room, you leave your cloak and hat, and perhaps meet those members of the family you visit, who are not interested in the performance and prefer a quiet chat. The inner boxes, of course, open on the body of the theater, and every one was in them on the evening of my visit. The assemblage was immense, and it would not be easy to find, any where, one indicating good taste and refinement more decidedly. The gentle sex must pardon me, however, for admitting that, to my eye, beauty was the exception that night, rather than the rule. I had expected more, for M. de Balzac had said somewhere of the Catalonian women, that their eyes were composed of «velvet and fire;» but I soon discovered that the remark had less foundation in fact, than in that peculiarity of the French imagination, which is so fond, in the descriptive, of mingling fancy with fancy-goods. I may be wrong, it is true, for the Imperial Frederick, seven centuries ago, in his best Limousin, declared—

    «I love the noble Frenchman,
    And the Catalonian maid.»

    And yet, I should not wonder if both the Gaul and the fair Catalan have undergone a change since those days.

    I learned, in the course of conversation in the evening, that the theater has much to do with the social enjoyments of Barcelona. Morning visits form the principal intercourse of ladies in their own houses. Evening parties are very rare, and it is only at the theaters that the higher classes meet, with freedom and frequency. The usages of etiquette are very easy and pleasant. If you are a friend, you drop in sans façon, and drop out when you like. If you are a stranger, you are presented to the lady of the box, and that formality gives you the freedom of the circle, and of all the conversation that goes round it—imposing the payment of no tribute but that of your best bow to each and all, when it pleases you to retire. There is no knowing what a quantity of pleasant business you can attend to during the progress of a long opera—making your pilgrimage to many shrines. Neither is it easy to calculate how much aid and comfort you may find from a solo or an orchestral movement, in those pauses of conversation, which, under ordinary circumstances, are so often uncomfortable, if not melancholy. It is difficult to discover whether fondness for music produced this custom in Barcelona, or whether the custom produced the fondness. One thing, however, is very certain: the Barcelonese are good musicians, and generally keep an excellent company. My friend the marquis, who was himself a director of an opera at home, informed me, that they pay so liberally for good artists, as to take a great many of the best second-rate performers from Italy. Their musical predilections are of long standing. A gentleman who knew, told me, in proof of it, that some of the earliest republications of Metastasio’s works were made at Barcelona. The prices of admission to the theaters are very low—so much so, that there is scarce a laborer too poor to find his way to the opera, on Sundays or feast days. By the returns of the ticket-offices, as published in the journals, the day after Easter, there were four thousand six hundred spectators at the opening of the Lyceum; over one thousand attended the Teatro nuevo; and between nine hundred and one thousand were at the Teatro principal. As music is what they generally hear, it will not seem strange that the humblest of them should be fond of it, and generally fair judges of its quality. This last, however, is more than I can honestly profess to be; and, therefore, I was rather pleased than otherwise that they had selected a historical play, for the opening of the Lyceum. It was by Ventura de la Vega, a living poet of considerable reputation and merit, and was founded on the popular and noble story of Ferdinand the First of Aragon, called «He of Antequera.» The piece of itself is full of fine passages, with excellent dramatic situations and effect, and was gotten up with great brilliancy. The part of Ferdinand was by the famous La Torre, considered the first master, and one of the best performers in Spain. He is a quiet actor, of fine personal appearance; something like Charles Kemble in his style, and, unhappily, a good deal like him in his voice, for he is growing old. His reading and articulation were admirable, but a great deal was lost, the house being too large for any thing but opera, ballet, or spectacle.

  • Noticias portuguesas de una corrida de toros en la Barceloneta

    Perto d’alli se acha a plaza de toros, inalienavel de todas as cidades e povoaçoes d’alguma importancia na Hespanha. A de Barcelona é uma das maiores, e póde conter 10:000 espectadores.

    Na tarde de domingo 9 de outubro assisti a uma corrida de touros, pela quadrilha do afamado Cúchares. Entre os oito bois, havia dois portuguezes, chamados Morito e Gorrion, das manadas do Ribatejo do lavrador Raphael José da Cunha, e que a 200 legoas de distancia foram acabar as maos dos capinhas Manolo e Curro.

    Para se fazer idea do interesse e da minuciosidade com que se descrevem estes espectaculos na imprensa hespanhola, transcreverei o seguinte trecho da descripçao d’esta toirada, que publicou o Diario de Barcelona de 11 de outubro de 1853.

    «Morito se llamaba el tercer toro. Era de Lisboa, ganaderia de Acuña, y tremolaba su hermosa divisa celeste. Era tambien negro, cornigacho, astiroto del izquierdo, de libras, de cabeza, fiero y voluntario. Morito que, como digo, era mas negro que un moro y de alma mas negra que su pelo, tomó una vara de Pinto, y le mató un injerto de caballo que montaba, siete del Naranjero, que estuvo mui bien en ciertas ocasiones, dos de Calderon, cada una de las cuales le custó un tumbo y un jaco muerto, cuatro de Castañita con un rocin despachado, y cinco del famoso Barillas, que midió dos veces el suelo con sus costillas y perdió un camello, Morito, rencoroso como un moro cuando se halla entre cristianos, se revolvia con un afan y un celo, y se arrojaba á hombres y á capas de un modo que no parecia sino cumplir un secreto voto de venganza. Tres veces saltó la valla, con la misma facilidad con que se infringe tres veces una ley. Los muchachos le parearon con destreza, adornándole con dos pares y medio de colgajos, y el Morito, que se habia hecho de mas sentido que un vigilante de puertas, fué á morir á los pies de Curro, de una corta y de otra de recurso baja á paso de banderillas.

    «Portugués era tambien, de la misma ganaderia de Acuña, el toro que salió en seguida. Se llamaba Gorrion, y era negro, liston, cornialto y astinegro. Salió jugueton y revoltoso como un trabajador en dia de fiesta, disposto á hacer mas calaveradas que baches tiene, el empedrado de ciertas calles. Se mostró desde un principio blando al hierro, y aunque fue siempe voluntario, no recargó jamás. Barillas le puso cuatro puyas, y ¡cosa particular! no se cayó una vez sola; Castañita otras cuatro, y Calderon cinco con un marronazo. Minuto y Muñiz pusiéronle entre los dos tres pares, y Manolo le tendió de un mete y saca primero, y luego de un volapié.»

  • Debut como novillero de Pere Aixelá (Peroy), primer matador de toros catalán en plazas de primera categoría

    1855: Julio: 01: Peineto, Jardinero: Manuel Arjona Herrera o Guillén, hermano de Cúchares, y Pedro Aixelá (Peroy) alternaron en la plaza de Barcelona [el Torín en la Barceloneta] el (01- 07-1855); día de la alternativa de Peroy, al que Arjona le cedió el toro, llamado Peineto, de la ganadería de Bermejo. Tuvo dicho suceso características de fausto por varios motivos: porque era la confirmación de las dotes toreras de Aixelá y porque era el primer toro estoqueado por un catalán en un espectáculo público de aquella categoría. Anduvo después por diversas plazas catalanas y del resto de la Península; en ellas ejecutaba el salto de la garrocha con gran limpieza y destreza y ponía banderillas al quiebro, por haberlo aprendido en Francia en su práctica con toros embolados.

    Era entonces la época en que empezaba a realizar esa suerte el Gordito, y por ello causaban más expectación sus actuaciones. En 1853 le llevó en su cuadrilla a Nimes (Francia), el matador de novillos Basilio González (el Sastre); toreó con éste varias corridas, aprendiendo con gran facilidad las modalidades del toreo landés. Siguió toreando y progresando de manera rápida; en las corridas celebradas en Barcelona los días de San Juan y San Pedro del año 1855 figuró como banderillero de cartel.

    En esa misma corrida, pero de la ganadería de don Pedro Galo Elorz, el toro llamado Jardinero, de casta pura navarra, cogió al diestro Antonio Luque (Camará), ocasionándole una grave herida de unos 12 centímetros de longitud en la tetilla izquierda.

  • Inauguración de la línea de Mataró a Arenys

    Sí, agradable y pintoresco es este camino.

    A un lado el Mediterráneo, ese mar que parece enviarnos una tras otra sus olas preñadas de armonias para que nos canten el poema de las grandezas de su historia, ese mar del que algun dia eran reinas las galeras catalanas y señora Barcelona, ese mar del seno de cuyas flotantes brumas parece que deben surgir las sombras de Bernardo de Vilamarí, de Conrado de Lianza, de Roger de Llauria y de tantos otros que un tiempo le ilustraron con sus hazañas legando un tesoro eterno de gloria á sa patria Cataluña.

    Y si por un lado no se pierde ni un momento de vista ese piélago azul y transparente, sobre el cual, perdido entre sus vapores y neblinas, vaga todo un pueblo de héroes catalanes, por el otro ve el viajero sucederse sin interrupcion una serie de villas alegres, frescas y risueñas, posadas á la falda de las montañas, que solo parecen haber descendido de ellas á lá sombra embalsamada de sus bosques de naranjos para, desde la orilla, buscar en el lejano horizonte las blancas velas que les indiquen el regreso de sus hijos, esos incansables é intrépidos marinos de la costa que no conocen mas vida que la del mar, ni mas goces, placeres ni descanso que sus largos y dilatados viajes á comarcas apartadas.

    No vacile el viajero en subir al coche. Seguro puede estar que el camino, por lo delicioso, le ha de parecer rápido y corto. Nosotros subiremos con él y le contaremos lo mejor que sepamos la historia de las poblaciones que hemos de ir encontrando al paso.

    Al son de la campana de la estacion indicando que ha llegado el momento de la partida, contesta la locomotora con su agudo silvido. El maquinista le imprime un golpe de émbolo á manera del ginete cuando aplica la espuela á un fogoso caballo. Estremécese la locomotora bajo aquella fuerza superior que la impele, como se estremece el sonámbulo al sentir el fluido eléctrico que le arroja el magnetizador; lanza algunos suspiros ahogados y rechinantes; diríase que va á reventar por causa del fuego que dan á dirigir á su estómago; replega furiosa los eslabones de sus cadenas y retrocede algunos pasos cual si intentara rebelarse contra la fuerza que la domina, y en seguida, domeñada y jadeante, soltando al aire su larga cabellera de humo, emprende bruscamente su desenfrenada carrera.

    Al salir de debajo el hermoso tinglado de la estacion, vienen ya á azotar nuestra frente las frescas brisas del mar. Dejamos á la derecha la plaza de loros y el barrio de la Barceloneta con la monotonía de sus calles tiradas á cordel y la uniformidad de sus casas, cruzamos por en medio del fuerte de Don Cárlos, y la ruidosa marcha del tren interrumpe por un momento el silencio eterno que reina en el campo de los muertos, que dejamos á nuestra izquierda.

    Esas casas esparcidas que arrancan junto á los muros mismos del cementerio, forman parte de Pueblo Nuevo, que á su vez lo forma del Clot, de cuyas poblaciones nos ocupamos en nuestra otra guia de Barcelona á Granollers.

    La rapidez con que viajamos, pues acabamos de salir disparados de la estacion como piedra partida de una honda, nos impide casi recrear nuestra vista paseándola por las fértiles llanuras que atravesamos. La agradable frescura que sentimos de pronto, los agrupados cañaverales y bellas alamedas que por uno y otro lado aparecen nos indican que vamos á cruzar un rio.

    En efecto, estamos sobre el Besós.

  • Barcelona, la París de España: la Rambla, la catedral, los gremios, la Barceloneta, la sociedad, los teatros, una corrida de toros, moros y cristianos, el cementerio de Pueblo Nuevo, las bullangas, la playa de Pekín y sus pescadores y gitanos

    Early in the morning I was awoke by music; a regiment of soldiers, stretching far and wide, were marching towards La Rambla. I was soon down [dormía en la Fonda del Oriente], and in the long promenade which divides the town into two parts from Puerta del Mar, from the terraced walk along the harbour, to Puerta Isabel Segunda, beyond which the station for Pamplona lies. It was not the hour for promenading, it was the early business time. There were people from the town and people from the country, hurrying along; clerks and shopkeepers’ assistants on foot, peasants on their mules; light carts empty, wagons and omnibuses; noise and clamour, cracking of whips, tinkling of the bells and brass ornaments which adorned the horses and the mules; all mingling, crying, making a noise together: it was evident that one was in a large town. Handsome, glittering cafes stood invitingly there, and the tables outside of them were already all filled. Smart barbers’ shops, with their doors standing wide open, were placed side by side with the cafes; in them soaping, shaving, and hairdressing were going on. Wooden booths with oranges, pumpkins, and melons, projected a little farther out on the foot-paths here, where now a house, now a church wall, was hung with farthing pictures, stories of robbers, songs and stanzas, ‘published this year.’ There was much to be seen. Where was I to begin, and where to end, on Rambla, the Boulevard of Barcelona?

    When, last year, I first visited Turin, I perceived that I was in the Paris of Italy; here it struck me that Barcelona is the Paris of Spain. There is quite a French air about the place. One of the nearest narrow side streets was crowded with people, there were no end of shops in it, with various goods—cloaks, mantillas, fans, brightcoloured ribands, alluring to the eyes and attracting purchasers; there I wandered about wherever chance led me. As I pursued my way, I found the side and back streets still more narrow, the houses apparently more adverse to light; windows did not seem in request; the walls were thick, and there were awnings over the courts. I now reached a small square; a trumpet was sounding, and people were crowding together. Some jugglers, equipped in knitted vests, with party-coloured swimming small-clothes, and carrying with them the implements of their profession, were preparing to exhibit on a carpet spread over the pavement, for they seemed to wish to avoid the middle of the street. A little darkeyed child, a mignon of the Spanish land, danced and played the tambourine, let itself be tumbled head over heels, and made a kind of lump of, by its half-naked papa. In order to see better what was going on, I had ascended a few steps of the entrance to an old dwelling, with a single large window in the Moorish style; two horse-shoe-formed arches were supported by slender marble pillars; behind me was a door half-open. I looked in, and saw a great geranium hedge growing round a dry dusty fountain. An enormous vine shaded one half the place, which seemed deserted and left to decay; the wooden shutters hung as if ready to fall from the one hinge which supported each in their loose frames: within, all appeared as if nothing dwelt there but bats in the twilight gloom.

    I proceeded farther on, and entered a street, still narrow, and swarming with still more people than those I had already traversed. It was a street that led to a church. Here, hid away among high houses, stands the Cathedral of Barcelona: without any effect, without any magnificence, it might easily be passed by unheeded; as, like many remarkable personages, one requires to have one’s attention drawn to them in order to observe them. The crowd pressed on me, and carried me through the little gate into the open arcade, which, with some others, formed the approaches to the cathedral, and enclosed a grove of orange-trees, planted where once had stood a mosque. Even now water was splashing in the large marble basins, wherein the Musselmen used to wash their faces before and after prayers.

    The little bronze statue here, of a knight on horseback, is charming; it stands alone on a metal reed out in the basin, and the water sparkles behind and before the horse. Close by, gold fishes are swimming among juicy aquatic plants; and behind high gratings, geese are also floating about. I ought perhaps to have said swans, but one must stick to the truth, if one wishes to be original as a writer of travels.

    The horseman of the fountain, and the living geese, were not much in accordance with devotion; but there was a great deal that was ecclesiastical to outweigh these non-church adjuncts to the place. Before the altars in the portico, people were kneeling devoutly; and from the church’s large open door issued the perfume of incense, the sound of the organ, and the choral chant, I passed under the lofty-vaulted roof; here were earnestness and grandeur: but God’s sun could not penetrate through the painted windows; and a deep twilight, increased by the smoke of the incense, brooded therein, and my thoughts of the Almighty felt depressed and weighed down. I longed for the open court outside the cathedral, where heaven was the roof—where the sunbeams played among the orange-trees, and on the murmuring water; without, where pious persons prayed on bended knees. There the organ’s sweet, full tones, bore my thoughts to the Lord of all. This was my first visit to a Spanish church.

    On leaving the cathedral, I proceeded through narrow streets to one extremely confined, but resplendent with gold and silver. In Barcelona, and in many Spanish towns, the arrangement prevalent in the middle ages still exists, namely, that the different trades—such as shoemakers, workers in metal, for instance—had their own respective streets, where alone their goods were sold. I went into the goldsmiths’ street; it was filled with shops glittering with gold and splendid ornaments.

    In another street they were pulling down a large, very high house. The stone staircase hung suspended by the side of the wall, through several stories, and a wide well with strange-looking rings protruded betwixt the rubbish and the stones; it had been the abode of the principal inquisitor, who now no longer held his sway. The inquisition has long since vanished here, as now-a-days have the monks, whose monasteries are deserted.

    From the open square, where stand the queen’s palace and the pretty buildings with porticos, you pass to the terrace promenade along the harbour. The view here is grand and extensive. You see the ancient MONS JOVIS; the eye can follow the golden zigzag stripe of road to the Fort Monjuich, that stands out so proudly, hewn from and raised on the rock: you behold the open sea, the numerous ships in the harbour, the entire suburb, Barcelonetta, and the crowds in all directions.

    The streets are at right angles, long, and have but poor-looking low houses. Booths with articles of clothing, counters with eatables, people pushing and scrambling around them; carriers’ carts, droskies, and mules crowded together; half-grown boys smoking their cigars, workmen, sailors, peasants, and all manner of townsfolk, mingled here in dust and sunshine. It is impossible to avoid the crowd; but, if you like, you can have a refreshing bath, for the bathing-houses lie on the beach close by.

    Though the weather and the water were still warm, they were already beginning to take down the large wooden shed, and there only now remained a sort of screening wooden enclosure, a boarding down from the road; and it was therefore necessary to wade through the deep sand before reaching the water, with its rolling waves, and obtaining a bath. But bow salt, how refreshing it was! You emerged from it as if renewed in youth, and you come with a young man’s appetite to the hotel, where an abundant and excellent repast awaits you. One might have thought that the worthy host had determined to prove that it was a very untruthful assertion, that in Spain they were not adepts at good cookery.

    Early in the evening we repaired to the fashionable promenade—the Rambla. It was filled with gay company: the gentlemen had their hair befrizzled and becurled; they were vastly elegant, and all puffing their cigars. One of them, who had an eye-glass stuck in his eye, looked as if he had been cut out of a Paris ‘Journal des Modes.’ Most of the ladies wore the very becoming Spanish mantilla, the long black lace veil hanging over the comb down to the shoulders; their delicate hands agitating with a peculiar grace the dark spangled fans. Some few ladies sported French hats and shawls. People were sitting on both sides of the promenade in rows on the stone seats, and chairs under the trees; they sat out in the very streets with tables placed before them, outside of the cafes. Every place was filled, within and without.

    In no country have I seen such splendid cafes as in Spain; cafes so beautifully and tastefully decorated. One of the prettiest, situated in the Rambla, which my friends and I daily visited, was lighted by several hundred gas lamps. The tastefully-painted roof was supported by slender, graceful pillars; and the walls were covered with good paintings and handsome mirrors, each worth about a thousand rigsdalers. Immediately under the roof ran galleries, which led to small apartments and billiard-rooms; over the garden, which was adorned with fountains and beautiful flowers, an awning was spread during the day, but removed in the evening, so that the clear blue skies could be seen. It was often impossible, without or within, above or below, to find an unoccupied table; the places were constantly taken. People of the most opposite classes were to be seen here—elegant ladies and gentlemen, military of the higher and lower grades, peasants in velvet and embroidered mantles thrown loosely over their arms. I saw a man of the lower ranks enter the cafe with four little girls. They gazed with curiosity, almost with awe, at the splendour and magnificence around them. A visit to the cafe was, doubtless, as great an event to them as it is to many children for the first time to go to a theatre. Notwithstanding the lively conversation going on among the crowd, the noise was never stunning, and one could hear a solitary voice accompanied by a guitar. In all the larger Spanish cafes, there sits, the whole evening, a man with a guitar, playing one piece of music after the other, but no one seems to notice him; it is like a sound which belongs to the extensive machinery. The Rambla became more and more thronged; the excessively long street became transformed into a crowded festival-saloon.

    The usual social meetings at each other’s houses in family life, are not known here. Acquaintances are formed on the promenades on fine evenings; people come to the Rambla to sit together, to speak to each other, to be pleased with each other; to agree to meet again the following evening. Intimacies commence; the young people make assignations; but until their betrothals are announced, they do not visit at each other’s houses. Upon the Rambla the young man thus finds his future wife.

    The first day in Barcelona was most agreeable, and full of variety; the following days not less so. There was so much new to be seen—so much that was peculiarly Spanish, notwithstanding that French influence was perceptible, in a place so near the borders.

    During my stay at Barcelona, its two largest theatres, Principal and Del Liceo, were closed. They were both situated in Rambla. The theatre Del Liceo is said to be the largest in all Spain. I saw it by daylight. The stage is immensely wide and high. I arrived just during the rehearsal of an operetta with high-sounding, noisy music; the pupils and chorus-singers of the theatre intended to give the piece in the evening at one of the theatres in the suburbs.

    The places for the audience are roomy and tasteful, the boxes rich in gilding, and each has its ante-room, furnished with sofas and chairs covered with velvet. In the front of the stage is the director’s box, from which hidden telegraphic wires carry orders to the stage, to the prompter, to the various departments. In the vestibule in front of the handsome marble staircase stands a bust of the queen. The public green-room surpasses in splendour all that Paris can boast of in that portion of the house. From the roof of the balcony of the theatre there is a magnificent view of Barcelona and the wide expanse of sea.

    An Italian company were performing at the Teatro del Circo; but there, as in most of the Spanish theatres, nothing was given but translations from French. Scribe’s name stood most frequently on the play-bills. I also saw a long, tedious melodrama, ‘The Dog of the Castle.’

    The owner of the castle is killed during the revolution; his son is driven forth, after having become an idiot from a violent blow on the head. Instinct leads him to his home, but none of its former inmates are there; the very watch-dog was killed: the house is empty, and he who is its rightful owner, now creeps into it, unwitting of its being his own. In vain his high and distinguished relatives have sought for him. He knows nothing of all this; he does not know that a paper, which from habit he instinctively conceals in his breast, could procure for him the whole domain. An adventurer, who had originally been a hair-dresser, comes to the neighbourhood, meets the unfortunate idiot, reads his paper, and buys it from him for a clean, new five-franc note. This person goes now to the castle as its heir; he, however, does not please the young girl, who, of the same distinguished family, was destined to be his bride, and he also betrays his ignorance of everything in his pretended paternal home. The poor idiot, on the contrary, as soon as he sets his foot within the walls of the castle, is overwhelmed with reminiscences; he remembers from his childhood every toy he used to play with; the Chinese mandarins he takes up, and makes them nod their heads as in days gone by; also he knows, and can show them, where his father’s small sword was kept; he alone was aware of its hidingplace. The truth became apparent; protected by the chamber-maid, he is restored to his rights, but not to his intellects.

    The part of the idiot was admirably well acted; nearly too naturally—there was so much truthfulness in the delineation that it was almost painful to sit it out. The piece was well got up, and calculated to make ladies and children quite nervous.

    The performances ended with a translation of the well-known Vaudeville, ‘A Gentleman and a Lady.’

    The most popular entertainments in Spain, which seem to be liked by all classes, are bull-fights; every tolerably large town, therefore, has its Plaza de Toros. I believe the largest is at Valencia. For nine months in the year these entertainments are the standing amusements of every Sunday. We were to go the following Sunday at Barcelona to see a bull-fight; there were only to be two young bulls, and not a grand genuine fight: however, we were told it would give us an idea of these spectacles.

    The distant Plaza de Toros was reached, either by omnibus or a hired street carriage taken on the Rambla; the Plaza itself was a large, circular stone building, not far from the railroad to Gerona. The extensive arena within is covered with sand, and around it is raised a wooden wall about three ells in height, behind which is a long, open space, for standing spectators. If the bull chooses to spring over the barrier to them, they have no outlet or means of exit, and are obliged to jump down into the arena; and when the bull springs down again, they must mount, as best they can, to their old places. Higher above this open corridor, and behind it, is, extending all round the amphitheatre, a stone gallery for the public, and above it again are a couple of wooden galleries fitted up in boxes, with benches or chairs. We took up our position below, in order to see the manners of the commoner class. The sun was shining over half the arena, spangled fans were waving and glittering, and looked like birds flapping their bright winga. The building could contain about fifteen thousand persons. There were not so many present on this occasion, but it was well filled.

    We had been previously told of the freedom and licence which pervaded this place, and warned not to attract observation by our dress, else we might be made the butts of the people’s rough humour, which might prompt them to shout, ‘Away with your smart gloves! Away with your white city-hat!’ followed by sundry witticisms. They would not brook the least delay; the noise increased, the people’s will was omnipotent, and hats and gloves had to be taken off, whether agreeable to the wearers or not.

    The sound of the music was fearful and deafening at the moment we entered; people were roaring and screaming; it was like a boisterous carnival. The gentlemen threw flour over each other in the corners, and pelted each other with pieces of sausages; here flew oranges, there a glove or an old hat, all amidst merry uproar, in -which the ladies took a part. The glittering fans, the gaily-embroidered mantles, and the bright rays of the sun, confused the eyes, as the noise confused the ears; one felt oneself in a perfect maelstrom of vivacity.

    Now the trumpet’s blast sounded a fanfare, one of the gates to the arena was opened, and the bull-fight cavalcade entered. First rode two men in black garments, with large white shirt fronts, and staffs in their hands. They were followed, upon old meagre-looking horses, by four Picadores, well stuffed in the whole of the lower parts, that they might not sustain any injury when the bull rushed upon them. They each carried a lance with which to defend themselves; but notwithstanding their stuffing, they were always very helpless if they fell from their horses. Then came half a score Banderilleros, young, handsome, stage-clad youths, equipped in velvet and gold. After them appeared, in silken attire, glittering in gold and silver—Espada; his blood-red cloak he carried thrown over his arm, the well-tempered sword, with which he was to give the animal its death-thrust, he held in his hand. The procession was closed by four mules, adorned with plumes of feathers, brass plates, gay tassels, and tinkling bells, which were, to the sound of music, at full gallop, to drag the slaughtered bull and the dead horses out of the arena.

    The cavalcade went round the entire circle, and stopped before the balcony where the highest magistrate sat. One of the two darkly clad riders—I believe they were called Alguazils—rode forward and asked permission to commence the entertainment; the key which opened the door to the stable where the bull was confined was then cast down to him. Immediately under a portion of the theatre appropriated to spectators, the poor bulls had been locked up, and had passed the night and the whole morning without food or drink. They had been brought from the hills fastened to two trained tame bulls, and led into the town; they came willingly, poor animals! to kill or be killed in the arena. To-day, however, no bloody work was to be performed by them; they had been rendered incapable of being dangerous, for their horns had been muffled. Only two were destined to fall under the stabs of the Espada; to-day, as has been mentioned, was only a sort of sham fight, in which the real actors in such scenes had no strong interest, therefore it commenced with a comic representation—a battle between the Moors and the Spaniards, in which, of course, the former played the ridiculous part, the Spaniards the brave and stout-hearted.

    A bull was let in: its horns were so bound that it could not kill any one; the worst it could do was to break a man’s ribs. There were flights and springing aside, fun and laughter. Now came on the bull-fight. A very young bull rushed in, then it suddenly stood still in the field of battle. The glaring sunbeams, the moving crowd, dazzled its eyes; the wild uproar, the trumpet’s blasts, and the shrill music, came upon it so unexpectedly, that it probably thought, like Jeppe when he awoke in the Baroness’s bed, ‘What can this be! What can this be!’ But it did not begin to weep like Jeppe; it plunged its horns into the sand, its backbones showing its strength, and the sand was whirled up in eddies into the air, but that was all it did. The bull seemed dismayed by all the noise and bustle, and only anxious to get away. In vain the Banderilleros teased it with their red cloaks; in vain the Picadores brandished their lances. These they hardly dared use before the animal had attacked them; this is to be seen at the more perilous bull-fights, of which we shall, by-and-bye, have more to say, in which the bull can toss the horse and the rider so that they shall fall together, and then the Banderilleros must take care to drive the furious animal to another part of the arena, until the horse and its rider have had time to arise to another conflict. One eye of the horse is bound up; this is done that it may not have a full view of its adversary, and become frightened. At the first encounter the bull often drives his pointed horn into the horse so that the entrails begin to well out; they are pushed in again; the gash is sewed up, and the same animal can, after the lapse of a few minutes, carry his rider. On this occasion, however, the bull was not willing to fight, and a thousand voices cried, ‘El ferro!’

    The Banderilleros came with large arrows, ornamented with waving ribands, and squibs; and when the bull rushed upon them, they sprang aside, and with equal grace and agility they contrived to plunge each arrow into the neck of the animal: the squib exploded, the arrow buzzed, the poor bull became half mad, and in vain shook its head and its neck, the blood flowed from its wounds. Then came Espada to give the death-blow, but on an appointed place in the neck was the weapon only to enter. It was several times either aimed at a wrong place, or the thrust was given too lightly, and the bull ran about with the sword sticking in its neck; another thrust followed, and blood flowed from the animal’s mouth; the public hissed the awkward Espada. At length the weapon entered into the vulnerable spot; and in an instant the bull sank on the ground, and lay there like a clod, while a loud ‘viva’ rang from a thousand voices, mingling with the sound of the trumpets and the kettle-drums. The mules with their bells, their plumes of feathers, and their flags, galloped furiously round the arena, dragging the slaughtered animal after them; the blood it had shed was concealed by fresh sand; and a new bull, about as young as the first, was ushered in, after having been on its entrance excited and provoked by a thrust from a sharp iron spike. This fresh bull was, at the commencement of the affray, more bold than the former one, but it also soon became terrified. The spectators demanded that fire should be used against him, the squib arrows were then shot into his neck, and after a short battle he fell beneath the Espada’s sword.

    ‘Do not look upon this as a real Spanish bull-fight,’ said our neighbours to us; ‘this is mere child’s play, mere fun!’ And with fun the whole affair ended. The public were allowed, as many as pleased, to spring over the barriers into the arena; old people and young people took a part in this amusement; two bulls with horns well wrapped round, were let in. There was a rushing and springing about; even the bulls joined the public in vaulting over the first barrier among the spectators who still remained there; and there were roars of laughter, shouts and loud hurrahs, until the Empressario the manager of that day’s bull-fight, found that there was enough of this kind of sport, and introduced the two tame bulls, who were immediately followed by the two others back to their stalls. Not a single horse had been killed, blood had only flowed from two bulls; that was considered nothing, but we had 6een all the usual proceedings, and witnessed how the excitement of the people was worked up into passionate feelings.

    It was here, in this arena, in 1833, that the revolutionary movement in Barcelona broke out, after they had commenced at Saragossa to murder the monks and burn the monasteries. The mass of the populace in the arena fired upon the soldiers, these fired again upon the people; and the agitation spread abroad with fiery destruction throughout the land.

    Near the Plaza de Toros is situated the cemetery of Barcelona, at a short distance from the open sea. Aloes of a great height compose the fences, and high walls encircle a town inhabited only by the dead. A gate-keeper and his family, who occupy the porter’s lodge, are the only living creatures who dwell here. In the inside of this city of the dead are long lonely streets, with boxlike houses, of six stories in height, in which, side by side, over and under each other, are built cells, in each of which lies a corpse in its coffin. A dark plate with the name and an inscription is placed over the opening. The buildings have the appearance of warehouses, with doors upon doors. A large chapel-formed tomb is the cathedral in this city of the dead. A grass plot, with dark lofty cypresses, and a single isolated monument, afford some little variety to these solemn streets, where the residents of Barcelona, generation after generation, as silent, speechless inhabitants, occupy their gravechambers.

    The sun’s scorching rays were glaring on the white walls; and all here was so still, so lonely, one became so sad that it was a relief to go forth into the stir of busy life. On leaving this dismal abode of decay and corruption, the first sound we heard appertaining to worldly existence was the whistle of the railway; the train shot past, and, when its noise had subsided, was heard the sound of the waves rolling on the adjacent shore; thither I repaired.

    A number of fishermen were just at that moment hauling their nets ashore; strange-looking fishes, red, yellow, and blueish-green, were playing in the nets; naked, dark-skinned children were running about on the sands; dirty women—I think they were gypsies— sat and mended old worn-out garments; their hair was coal-black, their eyes darker still; the younger ones wore large red flowers in their hair, their teeth was as glittering wbite as those of the Moors. They were groups to be painted on canvas. The city of the dead, on the contrary, would have suited a photographer, one picture of that would be enough; for from whatever side one viewed it, there was no change in its character: these receptacles for the dead stood in uniform and unbroken array, while cypress trees, here and there, unfolded what seemed to be their mourning banners.

  • Muere un joven alemán en la plaza de toros de la Barceloneta

    EDICION DE LA NOCHE DE HOY 19 DE JUNIO.

    Nuestro corresponsal de Barcelona nos escribe con fecha 17:

    «Hoy se ha verificado el entierro del malogrado Wandersahen [sic], muerto en el ensayo de la corrida de toretes proyectada por los jovenes de la buena sociedad.

    El cónsul aleman en esta plaza, Sr. Lindan [sic: Linden/Lindau?], que se hallaba en la plaza cuando aquel fué cogido por la fiera, pidió permiso al juzgado para llevarse el cadáver á su domicilio, lo cual le fué concedido, y ayer se presentaron allí los médicos forenses para practicar la autopsía, no atreviéndome á dar cuenta de lo que ocurrió ante el representante de una nacion estranjera, por el buen nombre de nuestro país.

    Despues fué embalsamado el cadáver por el distinguido profesor Sr. Griñan, operacion que se llevó á cabo á instancias del señor consul y de los amigos del difunto en el despacho principal del consulado.

    El cortejo funebre ha sido numerosísimo, viéndose la rica caja que encerraba al desgraciado Wandersahen, cubierta de flores y coronas, y siendo llevadas las ocho gasas por amigos del finado, cerrando la comitiva más de sesenta carruajes, entre los que se veían los de las primeras autoridades.

    La proyectada corrida se ha suspendido habiéndose acordado emplear en obras benéficas el importe de ella.

  • Empieza la huelga de la Canadiense

    La compañía … es conocida históricamente por la famosa huelga que se originó entre Febrero y marzo de 1919, y que constituyó un gran avance en el movimiento obrero catalán. El conflicto comenzó a finales de enero de 1919 cuando la empresa ‘Riegos y Fuerza del Ebro S.A., empresa asociada a Barcelona Traction Light and Power, introdujo cambios en las condiciones de trabajo del personal de facturación, esto produjo una disminución salarial. Los trabajadores pidieron asesoramiento y soporte al Sindicato de Agua, Gas y Electricidad de la CNT, la dirección de la empresa respondió con el despido de 8 de los trabajadores afectados. El 5 de febrero el resto del personal de facturación se declaró en huelga, en solidaridad de sus compañeros. La nueva respuesta de la dirección de la empresa fue el despido de 140 trabajadores de la sección de facturación, que fueron sustituidos por personal de otras secciones. Los trabajadores del departamento de Producción y Distribución se unieron a la huelga y el día 8 de Febrero la huelga era casi total en la Riegos. El 10 de febrero la dirección de la Canadenca dio un ultimátum a los trabajadores en huelga. La tensión aumentó todavía más al ser asesinado un cobrador de la compañía. El día 21 de Febrero el Sindicato Único de Agua, Gas y Electricidad de la CNT declaró la huelga a todo el sector y a las empresas asociadas a La Canadenca (Catalana de Gas, Ferrocarril de Sarriá en Barcelona y Sociedad General de Aguas).

    Poco después se unieron los trabajadores de estas empresas, esto provocó que Barcelona y sus alrededores quedaran paralizados. El 1 de marzo las compañías de agua, gas y electricidad declararon que los trabajadores que no se presentasen a trabajar antes del día 6 serían despedidos. Debido a esto el Sindicato Único de Artes Gráficas implantó la censura roja, sobre las noticias periodísticas contrarias a los intereses de los trabajadores en huelga. El día 9 el presidente general de Cataluña, Joaquim Milans del Bosch, declaró estado de guerra, y más de tres mil obreros fueron detenidos y encerrados en el Castillo de Montjuic. Tras esto también se declararon en huelga como protesta a los obreros de la indústria textil y se produjo una huelga general en toda Barcelona. El gobierno envió a Barcelona al subsecretario de la Presidencia por pactar con el comite de la huelga:

    1. La apertura de todos los sindicatos cerrados.
    2. La libertad de los trabajadores encarcelados.
    3. El establecimiento de la jornada de trabajo de 8 horas.

    Los días 15 y 16 de Marzo en presencia del emisario del gobierno, José Morote, se reunieron los representantes de La Canadenca y del comité de la huelga, y el 17 se llegó a un acuerdo:

    1. Libertad para los trabajadores encarcelados.
    2. Readmisión de los trabajadores en huelga sin represalias.
    3. El pago de la mitad de los días que había durado la huelga.
    4. Se establecería la jornada de 8 horas.
    5. Tras el acuerdo definitivo se levantaría el estado de guerrra.

    Para suscribir el acuerdo, la CNT convocó el día 19 de Marzo una gran asamblea en la plaza de toros Les Arenes, donde asistieron más de 20.000 trabajadores e intervinieron Simó Piera i Pagès, Josep Díaz, Rafael Gironés, Francisco Miranda y Salvador Seguí, que cerraron el meeting. La asamblea aprobó el acuerdo y dio un tiempo de 72 para que el gobierno liberase a los encarcelados. El 3 de abril un decreto del gobierno español estableció la jornada de trabajo de 8 horas, para todos los oficios.

  • Ignacio Sánchez Mejías, el torero del 27, recibe la alternativa de manos de Joselito, su cuñado

    EN BARCELONA
    Barcelona, 16.-Entrada, buena. La tarde, ventosa.
    Junto á la puerta de la plaza hay un escuadrón de Caballería.
    Las cuadrillas con aplaudidas en el paseo. Belmonte es abucheado.
    Lídianse toros de V. Martín.
    PRIMERO
    Negro: salta la barrera, causando pánico.
    Mejías recíbelo con dos lances de rodillas y seis verónicas monumentales, arimándose. Ovación.
    Joselito da otras muy lucidas.
    Con bravura toma cuatro varas por tres caídas y muerte de un jaco.
    Hay buenos quites.
    Mejías pone tres pares buenos (Música) y otro delantero, desigual.
    Joselito entrega los trastos á Mejías, abrazándole. (Ovación.)
    Mejías, de esmeralda y oro, vase al bicho, apartando á la gente; trastea por naturales y ayudados, tres de pecho, y deja una entera, buena, tirándose con arrestos. Ovación y oreja.
    SEGUNDO
    Berrendo en negro.
    Belmonte da cinco verónicas cuadradas.
    Toma el berrendo cuatro varas por tres caídas y muerte de dos jacos.
    Magritas y Riverito prenden pares regulares.
    Belmonte, de verde y oro, halla al toro incierto, quedado; trastea con un pase ayudado, saliendo achuchado; otro con desarme y un rasguño en la mano derecha. Sigue movidillo, arrimándose valiente, con dos de pecho forzados, dos molinetes, y atiza un pinchazo hondo, derrotando el toro; otros dos feos y media delantera. Pitos.
    TERCERO
    Feo, negro, manso. José recógelo.
    Acosado, toma cuatro varas por una caída y muerte de un jaco.
    Cuco y Cantimplas lo hacen mal.
    Mejías devuelve los trastos á Joselito, que viste de negro.
    Joselito logra apoderarse del toro, que está huido. Trastea arrimado con rodillazos; da un pase cogiéndose á la oreja del toro, y señala una entera, ladeada y atravesada. Descabella al segundo intento. Ovación y oreja.
    CUARTO
    Negro, descarado.
    Joselito veroniquea lucido, adornándose en quites.
    Toma cinco varas por tres caídas y muerte de dos jacos.
    Mejías pone un par súper con los terrenos cambiados.
    Gallito otro al cuarteo, y termina con otro Mejías.
    Joselito trastea por bajo con naturales y ayudados; perfílase y deja una entera atrevasada, entrando recto con el brazo alto. Cuatro intentos. Pitos y palmitas.
    QUINTO
    Retinto, suelto.
    Toma cinco varas por una caída y dos caballos muertos.
    Morenito de Valencia y Maera parean súper.
    Belmonte da tres pases ayudados, con desarme; sigue inseguro y tírase, dejando una entera contraria, entrando súper. Descabella á pulso. Palmas.
    Belmontistas y gallistas arman una gran bronca.
    Mejías da un capotazo, recortando y quebrando.
    Toma el bicho cuatro varas y mata dos caballos.
    Mejías deja un par abierto, desigual, y otro al cuarteo, superior.
    Joselito entra con los terrenos cambiados y deja un par monumental y otro discutible.
    Mejías brinda al sol y marca tres pases altos, un rodillazo, cuatro de pecho -ovación, música-, un pinchazo y una estocada algo perpendicular.
    Descabella al segundo intento.

  • Último espectáculo taurino en la plaza de la Barceloneta

    … en esta de la Barceloneta fue con intermitencias hasta el (23-09-1923), en cuya fecha se dio el último espectáculo, consistente en una novillada con seis toros de Hidalgo, en la que un tal Faroles rejoneó los dos primeros, y luego dieron muerte a los cuatro restantes, en lidia ordinaria, Isidoro Todó (Alcalareño II) y Ramiro Anlló (Nacional chico). La Barceloneta, que tenía una cabida para 12.000 espectadores, se mantenía todavía en pie en la década de 1940 y después pasó el inmueble a propiedad del Banco Urquijo, a sabiendas de que realizando en ella algunas mejoras, podría continuar dando funciones.

  • Derrumbada la plaza de toros de la Barceloneta

    Acabada la Guerra Civil, el Torín va ser enderrocat el 8 d’abril de 1946 i vuit anys més tard els terrenys que ocupava van passar a ser propietat de la companyia Catalana de Gas.

  • Concierto de los Beatles en la Monumental

    A pesar de los elevados precios de las entradas, que oscilaban entre las 75 y las 400 pesetas, de la oposición de muchos padres de la época a la asistencia de sus hijos y de la abundante propaganda negativa lanzada a través de los medios de comunicación oficiales, estos dos recitales [Madrid y Barcelona] marcaron un hito en la evolución del ambiente musical de la época. España seguía no obstante al margen de los acontecimientos mundiales más relevantes en el terreno de la música «popular». Por ejemplo, el fenónmeno de los macrofestivales de rock … se extenderá con rapidez por Europa a lo largo de los sesenta, y sin embargo en España habrá que esperar hasta mediados de los setenta para vivir este tipo de encuentros.

  • El Parlamento autonómico prohíbe las corridas de toros a partir de 2012

    Las corridas de toros han quedado prohibidas en Cataluña. A partir del 1 de enero de 2012 ninguna corrida de toros se podrá celebrar en Cataluña, después de la aprobación este miércoles en el Parlamento autonómico de la Iniciativa Legislativa Popular (ILP) por 68 votos a favor, 55 en contra y 9 abstenciones.

    La mayoría de los diputados autonómicos ha decidido que no se vuelvan a celebrar corridas de toros en Cataluña. Los representantes de CiU y PSC tenían libertad de voto por lo que tenían la llave para la aprobación o no de la ILP -posición defendida por Anna Mulà i Arribas, que en 2006 se presentó en las listas del PACMA- que pedía la reforma de la norma de la protección de los animales. Los diputados autonómicos de PP y Ciudadanos han votado a favor de mantener las corridas de toros; mientras que los de ERC e ICV-EUiA han votado a favor de la prohibición.

    Con esta decisión, la Monumental de Barcelona, que en la práctica era el único coso de Cataluña que ofrecía corridas de toros, dejará de serlo desde el 1 de enero de 2012. Sí se seguirán permitiendo los correbous o toros embolaos y la suelta de toros y vaquillas. Así como otros eventos culturales o deportivos en los que sí mueren animales, como la pesca deportiva.

  • ¿Última corrida de toros en Barcelona?

    Lo que tienen perpetrado para el próximo domingo no es más que la entrega de esa plaza, la rendición planificada con un fiestorrín dedicado a recoger los últimos dineros que se puedan exprimir del toro. Nadie, aparte de cuatro románticos, ha tenido verdadero ánimo de defender eso. El primero, el propietario de la Plaza, que está deseando hacer un convenio con el Ayuntamiento y transformar inmediatamente La Monumental en dinero contante y sonante; en segundo lugar, los políticos de oposición, que en su afán de no ser tachados innecesariamente de espanyols, no han sido capaces de defender con afán la pervivencia de esta centenaria tradición; y en tercer lugar, los gobernantes, decididos a implantar en Cataluña el régimen de Catalandia, ese mundo ficticio para cuyo diseño lo mismo hacen tapar con nocturnidad los restos de las construcciones de época califal en el monasterio de San Pedro de Rodes que proscriben la tauromaquia, pues son cosas que no entran en esa realidad nacional de juegos florales, noucentisme e idioma vernáculo que se han inventado, tan irreal por otra parte.