Wanderings in Spain

by Théophile Gautier

The banderilleros wear the same costume as the chulos. It is their especial duty to plant a kind of dart, tipped with an iron barb and ornamented with pieces of paper, in the bull's shoulder. These darts are called banderillas, and are employed to revive the animal's fury and lash him up to the pitch of exasperation necessary to make him present a fair aim to the sword of the matador. The banderillero has to plant two banderillas at a time; in order to do this, he must pass his two arms between the bull's horns, a delicate kind of operation, in performing which it might, perhaps, be rather dangerous for a person to be thinking of anything else.

The espada differs from the banderilleros only by the fact of his having a richer and more highly ornamented costume, which is sometimes of purple silk, a colour particularly offensive to the bull. His weapons consist of a long sword, with a handle in the shape of a cross, and a piece of scarlet cloth stretched on a long stick; the technical term for this kind of waving shield, is muleta. The reader is, at present, acquainted with the theatre and the actors. I will now show the latter enacting their various parts.

The picadores, escorted by the chulos, first go up and bow to the box of the ayuntamiento, whence the keys of the toril are thrown out to them. These are picked up and delivered to the alguazil, who gives them to the groom of the ring, and then gallops off as hard as he can, pursued by the shouts and cries of the crowd; for the alguazils, as well as all the other representatives of justice, are not much more popular in Spain than the gendarmes and sergents-de-ville are in France. Meanwhile, the two picadores take up their position to the left of the door of the toril, which is situated directly opposite the royal box, because the bull's entry is one of the most interesting parts of the fight. The picadores are stationed at a very little distance from each other, with their backs to the tablas, firmly seated in their saddles, holding their lances couched, and valiantly prepared to receive the beast. The chulos and banderilleros station themselves at some distance off, or disperse themselves over the arena.

All these preparations, which appear longer in description than they are in reality, excite the curiosity of the public to the highest pitch. Every person looks anxiously at the fatal door, and out of the twelve thousand spectators present, not one takes his eyes off it. At this moment, the loveliest woman in the world might beg in vain for a single glance.

For my own part, I frankly confess that I felt as oppressed as if my heart had been clutched by some invisible hand. I experienced a strange buzzing in my ears, and the perspiration, alternately hot and cold, ran down my back. I never felt more excited in my life.

A shrill flourish of trumpets was now heard; the red folding-doors were thrown wide open with a loud noise, and the bull rushed into the arena, in the midst of an immense hurrah.

He was a superb animal, with a glossy coat, almost black, an enormous dewlap, a square muzzle, sharp, polished, curving horns, clean-made legs, and a tail that was always in motion. Between his shoulders he had a bunch of ribbons, fastened by a large pin, and representing the colours of his ganaderia. Dazzled by the light of day, and astonished at the tumult, he stopped short for a second, and snuffed the air twice or thrice; then, perceiving the nearest picador, he made a furious bound, and tore towards him at full gallop.

The picador who was thus singled out was Sevilla. I cannot refrain from taking this opportunity to describe this famous Sevilla, who is really the beau-ideal of his class. Imagine a man of about thirty years of age, of a noble expression and demeanour; as robust as Hercules, as bronzed as a mulatto, with superb eyes, and a physiognomy like that of one of Titian's Cæsars. The expression of jovial, contemptuous serenity in his features and bearing, had really something heroic about it. On this occasion he was dressed in an orange-coloured jacket, embroidered and laced with silver; the remembrance of this jacket has ever since remained, even in its minutest details indelibly fixed on my mind. He lowered his lance, and, couching it, sustained the shock of the bull so victoriously, that the savage animal staggered and passed by him, bearing away with him a wound which, ere long, streaked his black coat with red. He stopped, as if uncertain what to do, for a few seconds, and then, with redoubled fury, rushed at the second picador, who was stationed at a little distance further on.