But at the time it did not occur to me. What seemed closer to its root was the ancient Summarian tale of Gilgamesh and Enkidu’s epic fight with the Bull of Heaven (this being the oldest known tale in recorded history). In The Epic of Gilgamesh, Ishtar–the goddess of Fertility–states: “My father, give me the Bull of Heaven to destroy Gilgamesh. Fill Gilgamesh, I say, with arrogance to his destruction; but if you refuse to give me the Bull of Heaven I will break in the doors of hell and smash the bolts; there will be confusion of the people, those above with those from the lower depths. I shall bring up the dead to eat food like the living; and the hosts of dead will outnumber the living.”
The tale continues:
When Anu heard what Ishtar had said he gave her the Bull of Heaven to lead by the halter down to Uruk. When they reached the gates of Uruk the Bull went to the river; with his first snort cracks opened in the earth and a hundred young men fell down to death. With his second snort cracks opened and two hundred fell down to death. With his third snort cracks opened, Enkidu doubled over by instantly recovered, he dodged aside and leapt on the Bull and seized it by the horns. The Bull of Heaven foamed in his face, it brushed him with the thick its tail. Enkidu cried to Gilgamesh, ‘My friend, we boasted that we would leave enduring names behind us. Now thrust in your sword between the nape of the horns.’ So Gilgamesh followed the Bull, he seized the thick of its tail, he thrust the sword between the nape and the horns and slew the Bull.
These ancient tales of ritual bullfighting are all linked and appear in various forms throughout the subsequent ancient civilizations–the Persians had their version, the Greeks had another version, the Minoans had theirs. The ritual killing of the sacred bull–or “tauromachia” found its way into the traditions of the Iberian peninsula through the exploits of the pagan god, Mithras, expressed in the Roman Mithraic Mysteries.
An exclusively male cult of Mithras was apparently popular with the Roman military and seemed to serve much the same function as the killing of the Bull of Heaven in The Epic of Gilgamesh–a ritual path through which man gained fame and respect–a symbolic conquering of the power of the heavens through a series of trials. Another vestige of this legend is the astrological bull in our contemporary zodiac. Taurus, the symbol for the period spanning roughly from April 21st through May 21st, reflects the ancients' representations of the power of the sacred Bull of Heaven– a power that was ripe for the taking.
Bullfighting is still practiced in parts of Spain and France. In Arles, for example, we saw that the old Roman amphitheater was booked for an upcoming bullfight. This marries the current tradition of bullfighting with the pagan Roman Mithraic cult practices–they often fight in the same arenas in which the ritual bullfights were practiced in the 1st through the 4th centuries A.D.
Being rather ideologically opposed to ritual slaughters, however, I have avoided the bull ring on principle. So when we wandered into Seville last summer, attending a bullfight was not on our agenda. But one thing that was on the agenda was a day trip to the Roman ruins of Italica on the outskirts of the city.
Italica is one of the best preserved Roman sites in Spain and overlooks the small city of Santiponce near Seville. We headed out to Santiponce early on the local bus which took some time but delivered us almost to the entry gate of the ruins. The remnants of the old Roman city are not as well preserved as the amphitheater, but the view of the sweeping countryside from the city in its day must have been quite impressive.
Most of what remains are mosaic floors and bits of columns that line the city streets. The site still seems to be in the process of excavation, so perhaps more of the city will emerge over time. Except for the poplars lining the roads, the landscape is dry and barren. But nearer to the amphitheater is a small lake at the bottom of the hill, where there are flowers and shrubs and an army of cicadas filling the air with their mating call.
The amphitheater itself is mostly intact and has an extensive series of access and drainage tunnels that surround the central arena.
One can imagine walking into the massive circle with cheers for the fighters filling the air.
With only myself and the cicadas in the rubble of the tiered stone benches to witness and applaud him, my companion stepped bravely into the arena.
There he invoked Anu, Zeus, Jupiter or any other of the remaining gods of the heavens who still answered the call of man to send the sacred bull to the ring so that he could win fame and glory.
And with only a humble bandanna he too taunted, mesmerized and
vanquished the Bull of Heaven to the cheers and chirps of the
entranced spectators–ensuring that his name, like Gilgamesh, Mithras
and all other legendary matadors, would be passed down through the ages
and remembered by all.
