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Jan Newmarch and Ronald Petty
Network Programming with Go
Language
Essential Skills for Programming, Using and
Securing Networks with Open Source Google
Golang
2nd ed.
Dr. Jan Newmarch
Oakleigh, VIC, Australia

Ronald Petty
San Francisco, CA, USA

ISBN 978-1-4842-8094-2 e-ISBN 978-1-4842-8095-9

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-8095-9

© Jan Newmarch and Ronald Petty 2022

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the

Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned,
specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations,
recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other
physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval,
electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar
methodology now known or hereafter developed.

The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks,

service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the
absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the
relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general
use.

The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the
advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate
at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the
editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the
material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have
been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
This Apress imprint is published by the registered company APress
Media, LLC, part of Springer Nature.
The registered company address is: 1 New York Plaza, New York, NY
10004, U.S.A.
I dedicate this to my family.
Preface to the Second Edition
While an age has passed in Internet years, Go remains a primary
destination for programmers. Go conquered the container technology
space. It continues to find affection in Cloud Native development. Go
strives to remain true to itself, backward compatible, yet adding new
language features like Generics. Tooling improvements such as Fuzzing
allow for more secure application development.
Go has changed, and so has this book. The first edition used Go 1.8;
we are now on Go 1.18. The code has been updated to reflect this new
reality. The examples have been largely developed to show a particular
feature of Go networking without forcing complexity like managing
several projects or packages scattered across the book; the associated
repository can be found here
https://github.com/Apress/network-prog-with-go-2e.
The first version of this book assumed familiarity with Go, and that
remains in this edition. We expand slightly what we are willing to
discuss in this book with the inclusion of more third-party modules,
tools, and techniques. Jan was correct to keep the focus on Go and not
to be distracted with the ecosystem at large.
If you desire to learn about implementing networking concepts with
Go, I hope this book serves you well.
As a point of comparison, what follows is Jan’s original preface,
reflecting Go in 2017.
Preface to the First Edition
It’s always fun to learn a new programming language, especially when it
turns out to be a major one. Prior to the release of Go in 2009, I was
teaching a Master’s level subject in network programming at Monash
University. It’s good to have a goal when learning a new language, but
this time, instead of building yet another wine cellar program, I decided
to orient my lecture notes around Go instead of my (then) standard
delivery vehicle of Java.
The experiment worked well: apart from the richness of the Java
libraries that Go was yet to match, all the programming examples
transferred remarkably well, and in many cases were more elegant than
the original Java programs.
This book is the result. I have updated it as Go has evolved and as
new technologies such as HTTP/2 have arisen. But if it reads like a
textbook, well, that is because it is one. There is a large body of
theoretical and practical concepts involved in network programming
and this book covers some of these as well as the practicalities of
building systems in Go.
In terms of language popularity, Go is clearly rising. It has climbed
to 16th in the TIOBE index, is 18th in the PYPL (Popularity of
Programming Language), and is 15th in the RedMonk Programming
Language rankings. It is generally rated as one of the fastest growing
languages.
There is a growing community of developers both of the core
language and libraries and of the independent projects. I have tried to
limit the scope of this book to the standard libraries only and to the
“sub-repositories” of the Go tree. While this eliminates many excellent
projects that no doubt make many programming tasks easier,
restricting the book to the official Go libraries provides a clear bound.
This book assumes a basic knowledge of Go. The focus is on using
Go to build network applications, not on the basics of the language.
Network applications are different than command-line applications, are
different than applications with a graphical user interface, and so on. So
the first chapter discusses architectural aspects of network programs.
The second chapter is an overview of the features of Go that we use in
this book. The third chapter on sockets covers the Go version of the
basics underlying all TCP/IP systems. Chapters 4, 5, and 6 are more
unusual in network programming books. They cover the topics of what
representations of data will be used, how a network interaction will
proceed, and for text, which language formats are used. Then in Chapter
7, we look at the increasingly important topic of security. In Chapter 8,
we look at one of the most common application layer protocols in use,
HTTP. The next four chapters are about topics related to HTTP and
common data formats carried above HTTP – HTML and XML. In
Chapter 13, we look at an alternative approach to network
programming, remote procedure calls. Chapters 14 and 15 consider
further aspects of network programming using HTTP.
Any source code or other supplementary material referenced by the
author in this book is available to readers on GitHub. For more detailed
information, please visit
https://github.com/Apress/network-prog-with-go-2e.
Acknowledgments
I want to share my appreciation for Jan Newmarch for collaborating on
this book. This project has offered me a tremendous sense of
achievement and allowed me to cross a much-anticipated item off my
bucket list. I would also like to thank Eldon Alameda for his thoughtful
approach at letting me know when I am off the mark and for providing
me with solid advice.
Additionally, I owe gratitude to my partners at Apress, both Steve
Anglin for the opportunity and Mark Powers for the guidance to help
see this through. Thank you to my colleagues at RX-M, including Randy
Abernethy, Christopher Hanson, Andrew Bassett, and Anita Wu. Our
work over the years has allowed for my participation in a project such
as this book.
Finally, I want to thank my wife Julie and daughter Charlotte. Julie’s
capacity to manage the world while I hide out on a computer is
unmatched and most appreciated. Charlotte’s energy, abilities, and
creativity inspire me to become better every day.

—Ronald Petty
Table of Contents
Chapter 1:​Architectural Layers
Protocol Layers
ISO OSI Protocol
OSI Layers
TCP/​IP Protocol
Some Alternative Protocols
Networking
Gateways
Host-Level Networking
Packet Encapsulation
Connection Models
Connection Oriented
Connectionless
Communications Models
Message Passing
Remote Procedure Call
Distributed Computing Models
Client-Server System
Client-Server Application
Server Distribution
Communication Flows
Synchronous Communication
Asynchronous Communication
Streaming Communication
Publish/​Subscribe
Component Distribution
Gartner Classification
Three-Tier Models
Fat vs.​Thin
Middleware Model
Middleware Examples
Middleware Functions
Continuum of Processing
Points of Failure
Acceptance Factors
Thoughts on Distributed Computing
Transparency
Access Transparency
Location Transparency
Migration Transparency
Replication Transparency
Concurrency Transparency
Scalability Transparency
Performance Transparency
Failure Transparency
Eight Fallacies of Distributed Computing
Fallacy: The Network Is Reliable
Fallacy: Latency Is Zero
Fallacy: Bandwidth Is Infinite
Fallacy: The Network Is Secure
Fallacy: Topology Doesn’t Change
 Fallacy: There Is One Administrator
Fallacy: Transport Cost Is Zero
Fallacy: The Network Is Homogeneous
Conclusion
Chapter 2:​Overview of the Go Language
Types
Slices and Arrays
Maps
Pointers
Functions
Structures
Methods
Multithreading
Packages
Modules
Type Conversion
Statements
GOPATH
Running Go Programs
Standard Libraries
Error Values
Conclusion
Chapter 3:​Socket-Level Programming
The TCP/​IP Stack
IP Datagrams
UDP
 TCP
Internet Addresses
IPv4 Addresses
IPv6 Addresses
IP Address Type
Using Available Documentation and Examples
The IPMask Type
Basic Routing
The IPAddr Type
Host Canonical Name and Addresses Lookup
Services
Ports
The TCPAddr Type
TCP Sockets
TCP Client
A Daytime Server
Multithreaded Server
Controlling TCP Connections
Timeout
Staying Alive
UDP Datagrams
Server Listening on Multiple Sockets
The Conn, PacketConn, and Listener Types
Raw Sockets and the IPConn Type
Conclusion
Chapter 4:​Data Serialization
 Structured Data
Mutual Agreement
Self-Describing Data
Encoding Packages
ASN.​1
ASN.​1 Daytime Client and Server
JSON
A Client and A Server
The Gob Package
A Client and A Server
Encoding Binary Data As Strings
Protocol Buffers
Installing and Compiling Protocol Buffers
The Generated personv3.​pb.​go File
Using the Generated Code
Conclusion
Chapter 5:​Application-Level Protocols
Protocol Design
Why Should You Worry?​
Version Control
The Web
Message Format
Data Format
Byte Format
Character Format
A Simple Example
 A Stand-Alone Application
The Client-Server Application
The Client Side
Alternative Presentation Aspects
The Server Side
Protocol:​Informal
Text Protocol
Server Code
Client Code
Textproto Package
State Information
Application State Transition Diagram
Client-State Transition Diagrams
Server-State Transition Diagrams
Server Pseudocode
Conclusion
Chapter 6:​Managing Character Sets and Encodings
Definitions
Character
Character Repertoire/​Character Set
Character Code
Character Encoding
Transport Encoding
ASCII
ISO 8859
Unicode
 UTF-8, Go, and Runes
UTF-8 Client and Server
ASCII Client and Server
UTF-16 and Go
Little-Endian and Big-Endian
UTF-16 Client and Server
Unicode Gotchas
ISO 8859 and Go
Other Character Sets and Go
Conclusion
Chapter 7:​Security
ISO Security Architecture
Functions and Levels
Mechanisms
Data Integrity
Symmetric Key Encryption
Public Key Encryption
X.​509 Certificates
TLS
A Basic Client
Server Using a Self-Signed Certificate
Conclusion
Chapter 8:​HTTP
URLs and Resources
i18n
HTTP Characteristics
 Versions
HTTP/​0.​9
HTTP/​1.​0
HTTP 1.​1
HTTP Major Upgrades
HTTP/​2
HTTP/​3
Simple User Agents
The Response Type
The HEAD Method
The GET Method
Configuring HTTP Requests
The Client Object
Proxy Handling
Simple Proxy
Authenticating Proxy
HTTPS Connections by Clients
Servers
File Server
Handler Functions
Bypassing the Default Multiplexer
HTTPS
Conclusion
Chapter 9:​Templates
Inserting Object Values
Using Templates
 Pipelines
Defining Functions
Variables
Conditional Statements
The html/​template Package
Conclusion
Chapter 10:​A Complete Web Server
Browser Site Diagram
Browser Files
Basic Server
The listFlashCards Function
The manageFlashCards​Function
The Chinese Dictionary
The Dictionary Type
Flashcard Sets
Fixing Accents
The ListWords Function
The showFlashCards Function
Presentation on the Browser
Running the Server
Conclusion
Chapter 11:​HTML
The html/​template Package
Tokenizing HTML
XHTML/​HTML
JSON
 Conclusion
Chapter 12:​XML
Unmarshalling XML
Marshalling XML
Parsing XML
The StartElement Type
The EndElement Type
The CharData Type
The Comment Type
The ProcInst Type
The Directive Type
XHTML
HTML
Conclusion
Chapter 13:​Remote Procedure Call
Go’s RPC
HTTP RPC Server
HTTP RPC Client
TCP RPC Server
TCP RPC Client
Matching Values
JSON
JSON RPC Server
JSON RPC Client
Conclusion
Chapter 14:​REST
 URIs and Resources
Representations
REST Verbs
The GET Verb
The PUT Verb
The DELETE Verb
The POST Verb
No Maintained State (That Is, Stateless)
HATEOAS
Representing Links
Transactions with REST
The Richardson Maturity Model
Flashcards Revisited
URLs
ServeMux (The Demultiplexer)
Content Negotiation
GET /​
POST /​
Handling Other URLs
The Complete Server
Client
Using REST or RPC
Conclusion
Chapter 15:​WebSockets
WebSockets Server
The golang.​org/​x/​net/​websocket Package
 The Message Object
The JSON Object
The Codec Type
WebSockets over TLS
WebSockets in an HTML Page
The github.​com/​gorilla/​websocket Package
Echo Server
Echo Client
Conclusion
Chapter 16:​Gorilla
Middleware Pattern
Standard Library ServeMux Examples
Customizing Muxes
gorilla/​mux
Why Should We Care
Gorilla Handlers
Additional Gorilla Examples
gorilla/​rpc
gorilla/​schema
gorilla/​securecookie
Conclusion
Chapter 17:​Testing
Simple and Broken
httptest Package
Below HTTP
Leveraging the Standard Library
 Conclusion
Appendix A:​Fuzzing
Fuzzing in Go
Fuzzing Failures
Conclusion
Appendix B:​Generics
A Filtering Function Without Generics
Refactor Using Generics
Custom Constraints
Using Generics on Collections
How Not to Use Generics?​
Conclusion
Index
About the Authors
Jan Newmarch
was head of ICT (higher education) at
Box Hill Institute before retiring, and still
is adjunct professor at Canberra
University, and adjunct lecturer in the
School of Information Technology,
Computing and Mathematics at Charles
Sturt University. He is interested in more
aspects of computing than he has time to
pursue, but the major thrust over the last
few years has developed from user
interfaces under UNIX into Java, the Web,
and then into general distributed
systems. Jan developed a number of
publicly available software systems in these areas. For the last few
years, he had been looking at sound for Linux systems and
programming the Raspberry Pi’s GPU. He is now exploring aspects of
the IoT and Cyber Security. He lives in Melbourne, Australia, and enjoys
the food and culture there, but is not so impressed by the weather.

Ronald Petty, M.B.A.,M.S.

is a principal consultant at RX-M and
founder of Minimum Distance LLC. He is
interested in many aspects of computing
including distributed systems and
machine learning. Kubernetes and Go
have occupied much of his time in recent
years, including presenting at KubeCon.
He hopes his own experiences help the
next generation of developers.
About the Technical Reviewer
Eldon Alameda
is a web developer who currently resides in the harsh climates of
Kansas. He works as a regional webmaster for the US National Weather
Service. Prior to this, he did development for a variety of companies
including local startups, advertising firms, Sprint PCS, and IBM. During
the 1990s, he also acquired a nice stack of worthless stock options from
working for dot-com companies.
© Jan Newmarch and Ronald Petty 2022
J. Newmarch, R. Petty, Network Programming with Go Language
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-8095-9_1
1. Architectural Layers
Jan Newmarch1 and Ronald Petty2
(1) Oakleigh, VIC, Australia
(2) San Francisco, CA, USA

This chapter covers the major architectural features of distributed

systems. A distributed system is a collection of components interacting
over a network. You can’t build a system without some idea of what you
want to build. And you can’t build it if you don't know the environment
in which it will work. GUI programs are different than batch processing
programs; games programs are different than business programs; and
distributed programs are different than stand-alone programs. They
each have their approaches, their common patterns, the problems that
typically arise, and the solutions that are often used.
This chapter covers the high-level architectural aspects of
distributed systems. There are many ways of looking at such systems,
and many of these are dealt with. We begin with a layering model to
help us understand component boundaries, discuss network
implementation details, and consider how our components message
each other, wrapping up with error conditions and how to think about
them.
Protocol Layers
Distributed systems are hard. There are multiple computers involved,
which have to be connected in some way. Programs have to be written
to run on each computer in the system, and they all have to cooperate
to get a distributed task done.
The common way to deal with complexity is to break it down into
smaller and simpler parts. These parts have their own structure, but
they also have defined means of communicating with other related
parts. In distributed systems, the parts are called protocol layers, and
they have clearly defined functions. They form a stack, with each layer
communicating with the layer above and the layer below. The
communication between layers is defined by protocols.
Network communications require protocols to cover high-level
application communication all the way down to wire communication
and the complexity handled by encapsulation in protocol layers.

ISO OSI Protocol

Although it was never properly implemented, the OSI (Open Systems
Interconnect) protocols have been a major influence in ways of talking
about and influencing distributed systems design. It is commonly given
as shown in Figure 1-1.
Figure 1-1 The Open Systems Interconnect protocol

OSI Layers
The function of each layer from bottom to top is as follows:
The Physical layer conveys the bit stream using electrical, optical, or
radio technologies.
The Data Link layer puts the information packets into network
frames for transmission across the Physical layer and back into
information packets.
The Network layer provides switching and routing technologies.
The Transport layer provides transparent transfer of data between
end systems and is responsible for end-to-end error recovery and
flow control.
The Session layer establishes, manages, and terminates connections
between applications.
The Presentation layer provides independence from differences in
data representation (e.g., encryption).
The Application layer supports application and end-user processes.
A layer in the OSI model often maps to a modern protocol; for
example, the IP from TCP/IP maps to the Network layer, also known as
layer 3 (Physical is layer 1). The Application layer, layer 7, maps to
HTTP. Some protocols like HTTPS seem to blend layers, 5 (Session) and
6 (Presentation). No model is perfect; alternatives exist to the OSI
model that maps closer to a given reality, such as the TCP/IP protocol
model.

TCP/IP Protocol
While the OSI model was being argued, debated, partly implemented,
and fought over, the DARPA Internet research project was busy building
the TCP/IP protocols. These have been immensely successful and have
led to The Internet (with capitals). This is a much simpler stack, as
shown in Figure 1-2.

Figure 1-2 The TCP/IP protocols

Some Alternative Protocols

Although it almost seems like it, the TCP/IP protocols are not the only
ones in existence and in the long run may not even be the most
successful. Wikipedia’s list of network protocols (see
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_network_prot
ocols_(OSI_model)) has a huge number more, at each of the OSI
ISO layers. Many of these are obsolete or of little use, but due to
advances in technology in all sorts of areas – such as the Internet in
Space and the Internet of Things – there will always be room for new
protocols.
The primary focus in this book is on OSI layers 3 and 4 (TCP/IP,
including UDP), but you should be aware that there are other ones.
Networking
A network is a communications system for connecting end systems
called hosts. The mechanisms of connection might be copper wire,
Ethernet, fiber optic, or wireless, but that won’t concern us here. A local
area network (LAN) connects computers that are close together,
typically belonging to a home, small organization, or part of a larger
organization.
A wide area network (WAN) connects computers across a larger
physical area, such as between cities. There are other types as well,
such as MANs (metropolitan area networks), PANs (personal area
networks), and even BANs (body area networks).
An internet is a connection of two or more distinct networks,
typically LANs or WANs. An intranet is an Internet with all networks
belonging to a single organization.
There are significant differences between an internet and an
intranet. Typically, an intranet will be under a single administrative
control, which will impose a single set of coherent policies. An internet,
on the other hand, will not be under the control of a single body, and
the controls exercised over different parts may not even be compatible.
A trivial example of such differences is that an intranet will often be
restricted to computers by a small number of vendors running a
standardized version of a particular operating system. On the other
hand, an internet will often have a smorgasbord of different computers
and operating systems.
The techniques of this book are applicable to internets. They are
also valid with intranets, but there you will also find specialized,
nonportable systems.
And then there is the “mother” of all internets: The Internet. This is
just a very, very large internet that connects us to Google, my computer
to your computer, and so on.
Gateways
A gateway is a generic term for an entity used to connect two or more
networks. A repeater operates at the Physical level and copies
information from one subnet to another. A bridge operates at the Data
Link layer level and copies frames between networks. A router operates
at the Network level and not only moves information between
networks but also decides on the route.
Host-Level Networking
On a single host, we have additional concerns when designing,
debugging, or deploying network-based software. Some of these items
include the following:
DNS (domain name system, i.e., human-friendly naming)
Firewalls (e.g., blocking inbound or outbound traffic)
Routing (e.g., figuring out which network to place a packet)
Host Identity management (e.g., IP address)
Performance controls (e.g., traffic shaping or retries)
Connection issues (e.g., missing network adapter, intramachine
process communication)
Through examples, we will see how a host misconfiguration might
manifest in our software.
Packet Encapsulation
The communication between layers in either the OSI or the TCP/IP
stacks is done by sending packets of data from one layer to the next and
then eventually across the network. Each layer has administrative
information that it has to keep about its own layer. It does this by
adding header information to the packet it receives from the layer
above, as the packet passes down. On the receiving side, these headers
are removed as the packet moves up.
For example, the TFTP (Trivial File Transfer Protocol) moves files
from one computer to another. It uses the UDP protocol on top of the IP
protocol, which may be sent over ethernet. This looks like the diagram
shown in Figure 1-3.

Figure 1-3 The TFTP (Trivial File Transfer Protocol)

Connection Models
In order for two computers to communicate, they must set up a path
whereby they can send at least one message in a session. There are two
major models for this:
Connection oriented
Connectionless

Connection Oriented
A single connection is established for the session. Two-way
communications flow along the connection. When the session is over,
the connection is broken. The analogy is to a phone conversation. An
example is TCP.

Connectionless
In a connectionless system, messages are sent independent of each
other. Ordinary mail is the analogy. Connectionless messages may
arrive out of order. Messages do not have an impact on each other. An
example is the IP protocol. UDP is a connectionless protocol above IP
and is often used as an alternative to TCP, as it is much lighter weight.
Connectionless is also known as unconnected or stateless.
Connection-oriented transports may be established on top of
connectionless ones – TCP over IP. Connectionless transports may be
established on top of connection-oriented ones – HTTP over TCP.
Messages over a connection-oriented transport protocol have some
kind of relation, for example, a sequence number used to keep order.
Having state allows for functionality and optimizations; it also has an
associated cost of storage and computing.
There can be variations on these. For example, a session might
enforce messages arriving but might not guarantee that they arrive in
the order sent. However, these two are the most common.
Connection models are not the only way a protocol can vary. One
often desired feature is reliability; this is where the protocol has logic to
fix some types of errors; for example, TCP resends a missing packet. It’s
pretty common to assume connection-oriented protocols are reliable;
this is not always the case (e.g., MPLS). Additional features of a network
protocol could include message boundary management, delivery
ordering, error checking, flow control, etc. These features can exist in
one protocol layer and not another, partly why there are so many
network protocol stacks.
Sometimes, these features are reworked throughout the protocol
stack. An example of this kind of feature rework is with HTTP/3. In
HTTP/2, reliability is provided using TCP at layer 4. In HTTP/3, TCP is
being replaced with UDP, which is not reliable. Instead, reliability will
be provided with another protocol known as QUIC. While QUIC is
considered a Transport layer, like TCP or UDP, it works on top of UDP.
As you can see, the layer model is not an exact science.
Communications Models
In a distributed system, there will be many components (i.e., processes)
running that have to communicate with each other. There are two
primary models for this, message passing and remote procedure calls.
In the context of networking, these models allow interprocess (and/or
thread) communication with intent to invoke behavior on the remote
process.

Message Passing
Some languages are built on the principle of message passing.
Concurrent languages (and tools) often use such a mechanism, and the
most well-known example is probably the UNIX pipeline. The UNIX
pipeline is a pipeline of bytes, but this is not an inherent limitation:
Microsoft’s PowerShell can send objects along its pipelines, and
concurrent languages such as Parlog can send arbitrary logic data
structures in messages between concurrent processes. Recent
languages such as Go have mechanisms for message passing (between
threads).
Message passing is a primitive mechanism for distributed systems.
Set up a connection and pump some data down it. At the other end,
figure out what the message was and respond to it, possibly sending
messages back. This is illustrated in Figure 1-4.
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
The crowd, exhausted by its previous outburst of emotion, regarded
all that followed as insipid, and so diverted its boredom by eating
and drinking. The refreshment sellers of the Plaza walked round
between the barriers, throwing up the articles asked for with
marvellous dexterity. Oranges flew like golden balls up to the very
highest benches, in a straight line from the hands of the seller to
that of the buyer, as if drawn by a thread. Bottles of aerated drinks
were opened, and the golden wine of Andalusia shone in the
glasses.
Soon a current of curiosity ran round the seats. Fuentes was going
to fix banderillas in his bull, and everyone expected something
extraordinarily dexterous and graceful. He advanced alone into the
midst of the Plaza, with the banderillas in his hand, quiet and self-
possessed, moving slowly, as if he were beginning some game. The
bull followed his movements with anxious eyes, astonished to see
this man alone in front of him, after the previous hurly-burly of
outspread cloaks, cruel pikes sticking into his neck, and horses which
placed themselves in front of his horns, as if offering themselves to
his attack.
The man hypnotised the beast, approaching so close as even to
touch his pole with the banderillas. Then with short tripping steps he
ran away, pursued by the bull, which followed him as though
fascinated, to the opposite end of the Plaza. The animal seemed
cowed by the fighter, and obeyed his every movement, until at last,
thinking the game had lasted long enough, the man opened his
arms with a dart in either hand, drew up his graceful slim figure on
tip-toe, and advancing towards the bull with majestic tranquillity,
fixed the coloured darts in the neck of the surprised animal.
Three times he performed this feat, amid the acclamations of the
audience. Those who thought themselves "connoisseurs" now had
their revenge for the explosion of admiration provoked by Gallardo.
This was what a true torero should be! This was real art!
Gallardo stood by the barrier, wiping the sweat from his face with a
towel handed to him by Garabato. Afterwards he drank some water,
and turned his back on the circus, so as not to see the prowess of
his rival. Outside the Plaza he esteemed his rivals with the fraternity
established by danger; but once they trod the arena they all became
his enemies and their triumphs pained him like insults. This general
enthusiasm for Fuentes which obscured his own great triumphs
seemed to him like robbery. On the appearance of the fifth bull,
which was his, he leapt into the arena, burning to astonish
everybody by his prowess.
If a picador fell he spread his cloak and drew the bull to the other
end of the arena, bewildering it with a succession of cloak play that
left the beast motionless. Then Gallardo would touch it on the
muzzle with one foot, or would take off his montero and lay it
between the animal's horns. Again and again he took advantage of
its stupefaction and exposed his stomach in an audacious challenge,
or knelt close to it as though about to lie down beneath its nose.
Under their breath the old aficionados muttered "monkey tricks!"
"Buffooneries that would not have been tolerated in former days!"...
But amidst the general shouts of approval they were obliged to keep
their opinion to themselves.
When the signal for the banderillas was given, the audience was
amazed to see Gallardo take the darts from El Nacional, and advance
with them towards the bull. There was a shout of protest. "He with
the banderillas!"... They all knew his failing in that respect.
Banderilla play was only for those who had risen in their career step
by step, who before arriving at being matadors had been
banderilleros for many years by the side of their masters, and
Gallardo had begun at the other end, killing bulls from the time he
first began in the Plaza.
"No! No!" shouted the crowd.
Doctor Ruiz yelled and thumped inside the barrier.
"Leave that alone, lad! You know well enough what is wanted. Kill!"
But Gallardo despised his audience, and was deaf to its advice when
his daring impulses came over him. In the midst of the din he went
straight up to the bull, and before it moved—Zas! he stuck in the
banderillas.[44] The pair were out of place and badly driven in. One
of them fell out with the animal's start of surprise, but this did not
signify. With the tolerance that a crowd always has for its idol
excusing, even justifying, its shortcomings, the spectators watched
this daring act smilingly. Gallardo, rendered still more audacious,
took a second pair of banderillas and stuck them in, regardless of
the warnings of those who feared for his life. This feat he repeated a
third time, badly, but with such dash, that what would have
provoked hisses for another, produced only explosions of admiration
for him. "What a man! How luck helped that fearless man!"...
The bull carried four banderillas instead of six, and those were so
feebly planted that it scarcely seemed to feel the discomfort.
"He is still fresh!"[45] shouted the aficionados from the benches,
alluding to the bull, while Gallardo with his montero on his head,
grasping rapier and muleta in his hands, advanced towards him,
proud and calm, trusting to his lucky star.
"Out—all of you!" he cried again.
He turned his head, feeling that some one was remaining close to
him regardless of his orders. It was Fuentes a few steps behind him
who had followed him with his cloak on his arm pretending not to
have heard, but ready to rush to his assistance, as if he foresaw
some accident.
"Leave me, Antonio," said Gallardo half angrily, and yet respectfully,
as if he were speaking to an elder brother.
His manner was such that Fuentes shrugged his shoulders
disclaiming all responsibility. Turning his back he moved slowly away,
certain that he would be suddenly required.
Gallardo spread his cloth on the very head of the wild beast, which
at once attacked it. A pass. "Olé!" roared the enthusiasts. The
animal turned suddenly, throwing itself again on the torero with a
violent toss of its head that tore the muleta out of his hand. Finding
himself disarmed and attacked he was obliged to run for the barrier,
but at this instant Fuentes' cloak diverted the animal's charge.
Gallardo, who guessed during his flight the cause of the bull's
sudden distraction, did not leap the barrier, but sat on the step and
there remained some moments watching his enemy a few paces off.
His flight ended in applause of this display of calmness.
He recovered his muleta and rapier, carefully re-arranged the red
cloth, and once again placed himself in front of the brute's head, but
this time not so calmly. The lust of slaughter dominated him, an
intense desire to kill as soon as possible the animal which had forced
him to fly in the sight of thousands of admirers.
He scarcely moved a step. Thinking that the decisive moment had
come he squared himself, the muleta low, and the pommel of the
rapier raised to his eyes.
Again the audience protested, fearing for his life.
"Don't strike! Stop!"... "O..h!"
An exclamation of horror shook the whole Plaza; a spasm which
made all rise to their feet, their eyes starting, whilst the women hid
their faces, or convulsively clutched at the arm nearest them.
As the matador struck, the sword glanced on a bone. This mischance
retarded his escape, and caught by one of the horns he was hooked
up by the middle of his body, and despite his weight and strength of
muscle, this well-built man was lifted, was twirled about on its point
like a helpless dummy until the powerful beast with a toss of its
head sent him flying several yards away. The torero fell with a
thump on the sand with his limbs spread wide apart, just like a frog
dressed up in silk and gold.
"It has killed him!" "He is gored in the stomach!" they yelled from
the seats.
But Gallardo picked himself up from among the medley of cloaks and
men which rushed to his rescue. With a smile he passed his hands
over his body, and then shrugged his shoulders to show he was not
hurt. Nothing but the force of the blow and a sash in rags. The horn
had only torn the strong silk belt.
He turned to pick up his "killing weapons."[46] None of the
spectators sat down, as they guessed that the next encounter would
be brief and terrible. Gallardo advanced towards the bull with a
reckless excitement, as if he discredited the powers of its horns now
he had emerged unhurt. He was determined to kill or to die. There
must be neither delay nor precautions. It must be either the bull or
himself! He saw everything red just as if his eyes were bloodshot,
and he only heard, like a distant sound from the other world, the
shouts of the people who implored him to keep calm.
He only made two passes with the help of a cloak which lay near
him, and then suddenly quick as thought like a spring released from
its catch he threw himself on the bull, planting a thrust, as his
admirers said, "like lightning." He thrust his arm in so far, that as he
drew back from between the horns, one of them grazed him,
sending him staggering several steps. But he kept his feet, and the
bull, after a mad rush, fell at the opposite side of the Plaza, with its
legs doubled beneath it and its poll touching the sand, until the
"puntillero"[47] came to give the final dagger thrust.
The crowd seemed to go off its head with delight, A splendid
corrida! All were surfeited with excitement. "That man Gallardo
didn't steal their cash, he paid back their entrance money with
interest." The aficionados would have enough to keep them talking
for three days at their evening meetings in the Café. What a brave
fellow! What a savage! And the most enthusiastic looked all around
them in a fever of pugnacity to find anyone that disagreed with
them.
"He's the finest matador in the world!... If anyone dares to deny it,
I'm here, ready for him."
The rest of the corrida scarcely attracted any attention. It all seemed
insipid and colourless after Gallardo's great feats.
When the last bull fell in the arena, a swarm of boys, low class
hangers-on, and bull-ring apprentices invaded the circus. They
surrounded Gallardo, and escorted him in his progress from the
president's chair to the door of exit. They pressed round him,
anxious to shake his hands, or even to touch his clothes, till finally
the wildest spirits, regardless of the blows of El Nacional and the
other banderilleros, seized the "Maestro" by the legs, and hoisting
him on their shoulders, carried him in triumph round the circus and
galleries as far as the outbuildings of the Plaza.
Gallardo raising his montero saluted the groups who cheered his
progress. With his gorgeous cape around him he let himself be
carried like a god, erect and motionless, above the sea of Cordovan
hats and Madrid caps, whence issued enthusiastic rounds of cheers.
When he was seated in his carriage, passing down the Calle de
Alcala, hailed by the crowds who had not seen the corrida but who
had already heard of his triumphs, a smile of pride, of delight in his
own strength, illuminated his face perspiring and pale with
excitement.
El Nacional, still anxious about his Master's accident and terrible fall,
asked if he was in pain, and whether Doctor Ruiz should be
summoned.
"No, it was only a caress, nothing more.... The bull that can kill me is
not born yet."
But as though in the midst of his pride some remembrance of his
former weakness had surged up, and he thought he saw a sarcastic
gleam in El Nacional's eye, he added:
"Those feelings come over me before I go to the Plaza.... Something
like women's fancies. You are not far wrong Sebastian. What's your
saying?... "God or Nature"; that's it. Neither God or Nature meddle
with bull-fighting affairs. Every one comes out of it as best he can,
by his own skill or his own courage, there is no protection to be had
from either earth or heaven.... You have talents, Sebastian; you
ought to have studied for a profession."
In the optimism of his triumph he regarded the banderillero as a
sage, quite forgetting the laughter with which at other times he had
always greeted his very involved reasonings.
On arriving at his lodging he found a crowd of admirers in the lobby
waiting to embrace him. His exploits, to judge from their hyperbolic
language, had become quite different, so much did their
conversation exaggerate and distort them, even during the short
drive from the Plaza to the hotel.
Upstairs he found his room full of friends. Gentlemen who called him
"tu" and who imitated the rustic speech of the peasantry, shepherds,
herdsmen, and such like, slapping him on the back and saying, "You
were splendid ... absolutely first class."
Gallardo freed himself from this warm reception, and went out into
the passage with Garabato.
"Go and send off the telegram home. You know—'nothing new.'"
Garabato excused himself, he wished to help his master to undress.
The hotel people would undertake to send off the wire.
"No: I want you to do it. I will wait.... There's another telegram too
that you must send. You know for whom it is—for that lady, for Doña
Sol.... Also 'nothing new.'"

FOOTNOTES:
[1] Vide Glossary.
[2] "Good shadow"—lucky.
[3] Vide Glossary.
[4] Vide Glossary.
[5] Two Matadors. "Little Lizard" and "Flask."
[6] Frascuelo dressed in black in the bull-ring on account of his
political opinions.
[7] Vide Glossary.
[8] A café specially frequented by toreros.
[9] Vide Glossary.
[10] Easter.
[11] Aficion. Vide Glossary.
[12] The knot of hair, dressed with ribbons, worn at the back of the
head by toreros, principally to lessen the shock of a fall. The Mona
was only "lowered" when a torero retired finally from the ring, either
on account of age or inefficiency.
[13] Vide Glossary.
[14] Garabato. Balafré—scarred.
[15] The Snail.
[16] Lettuce seller.
[17] A kind of Anisette made at Cazalla, in the Sierra Morena.
[18] Vide Glossary.
[19] Muira, a famous breeder whose bulls have a reputation for
ferocity.
[20] About £40. A peseta is worth about 9½d.
[21] A contraction of "Vuestra Merced"—Your Worship. The usual
Spanish address to an equal or superior.
[22] Mozo d'estoque—sword or rapier, about a yard long, sharpened
on both sides. The hilt is very small, in the shape of a cross, and is
bound round with red stuff to give a better hold. At the top of the
hilt is a knob which fits into the palm of the hand and strengthens
the thrust.
[23] Vide Glossary.
[24] A small portmanteau. Term applied to a torero's valet, but an
insult if applied to a torero.
[25] Maestro—one high up in the profession.
[26] Before the fight the bulls are divided and those chosen for the
day's work are put into separate boxes or stalls.
[27] Vide Glossary.
[28] Nickname of one of the banderilleros forming part of Gallardo's
cuadrilla.
[29] Old Spanish head-dress, a kind of net.
[30] Vide Glossary.
[31] Toreador's small round hat, like a pork pie.
[32] Procession cape.
[33] Vide Glossary.
[34] These servants have to strip the harness off dead horses and
sprinkle sand over the pools of blood.
[35] The name of a fountain.
[36] 'Of the stables.'
[37] Vide Glossary.
[38] Banderilleros, Chulos, etc., who fight on foot.
[39] Lit.:—excitement.
[40] Square of red silk fastened to a wand—used to irritate the bull
and to throw over his eyes as he charges.
[41] Brindis.—The matador has to declare before the president in
whose honour—man or woman—he will kill the bull. There is an
ancient formula used: "I dedicate this bull to so and so—either I will
kill him or he will kill me." He then throws his montero on the
ground behind him and fights the bull bareheaded.
[42] Maestria—complete knowledge.
[43] As the fox's brush or otter's pad is given with us.
[44] The banderillas ought to be evenly and symmetrically placed in
pairs—three pairs is the proper complement.
[45] Term applied to a bull which, after much punishment, is still
plucky and strong.
[46] Trastos de Matar.
[47] A man who finishes the bull with a dagger thrust.
 CHAPTER II
When the husband of Señora Angustias died, the Señor Juan
Gallardo, an excellent cobbler long established under a doorway in
the suburb de la Feria, she wept as disconsolately as was
appropriate to the event, but at the same time in the bottom of her
heart, she felt the comfort of one who rests after a long march, and
lays down an overwhelming burden.
"Poor dear soul! God has him in His glory! So good! ... so hard
working!"...
During the twenty years of their life together, he had not given her
more troubles than those endured by the other women in the
suburb. Of the three pesetas that, one day with another, he earned
by his work, he gave one to the Señora Angustias for the
maintenance of the house and the family, reserving the other two for
the up-keep of his own person, and the expenses of the
"representacions."[48] He must respond to the civilities of his friends
when they invited him to drink a glass, and the wine of Andalusia,
although it is the glory of God, costs dear. Besides he must inevitably
go to the bull-fights, for a man who neither drinks nor attends
corridas ... why is he in the world at all?...
The Señora Angustias, left with her two children, Encarnacion and
Juan, had to sharpen her wits and develop a multiplicity of talents to
carry the family along. She worked as charwoman in the wealthiest
houses in the suburb, sewed for the neighbours, mended clothes
and laces for a certain pawnbroking friend of hers, made cigarettes
for gentlemen, availing herself of the dexterity acquired in her youth
when the Señor Juan, an ardent and wheedling lover, used to wait
for her at the entrance of the Tobacco factory.
She never had to complain of infidelities or bad treatment on the
part of the defunct. On Saturdays when he returned to the house in
the small hours of the night, tipsy, supported by his friends,
happiness and tenderness came with him. The Señora Angustias was
obliged forcibly to push him in, for he persisted in remaining at the
door, clapping his hands, and chanting doleful love songs in a
drivelling voice, all in praise of his voluminous companion. And when
at last the door was closed behind him, and the neighbours deprived
of a source of amusement, the Señor Juan, in the fullness of his
drunken sentimentality would insist on seeing the little ones, kissing
them and wetting them with huge tears, all the while chanting his
love songs in honour of the Señora Angustias (Olé! The best woman
in the world!) and the good woman ended by relaxing her frown and
laughing, while she undressed him, and petted him like a sick child.
This was his only vice. Poor dear! ... of women or gambling there
was never a sign. His selfishness in going well dressed while his
family were in rags, and the inequality in the division of the proceeds
of his work, were compensated for by generous treats. The Señora
Angustias remembered with pride how on the great holidays Juan
made her put on her Manila silk shawl, the wedding mantilla, and
with the children in front walked by her side in a white Cordovan
sombrero, with a silver headed stick, taking a turn through las
Delicias,[49] looking just like a family of tradespeople of the Calle de
las Sierpes. On the days of cheap bull-fights he would treat her
magnificently before going to the Plaza, offering her a glass of
Manzanilla in La Campana, or in a café of the Plaza Nueva.
This happy time was now nothing but a faded though pleasant
recollection in the poor woman's memory.
Señor Juan became ill of consumption, and for two years his wife
had to nurse him, working harder than ever at her various jobs to
make up for the peseta that her husband formerly gave her. Finally
he died in the hospital, resigned to his fate, having come to the
conclusion that life was worth nothing without bulls and Manzanilla.
His last looks of love and gratitude were for his wife, as though he
were crying out with his eyes, "Olé! the best woman in the world!"...
When the Señora Angustias was left alone, her situation became no
worse; on the contrary, she was much less hampered in her
movements, freed from the man who in the last two years of his life
had weighed more heavily on her than all the rest of the family.
Being a woman of prompt and energetic action, she immediately
struck out a line for her children. Encarnacion, who was now
seventeen, went to the Tobacco factory, where her mother was able
to introduce her, thanks to her relations with certain friends of her
youth, who were now overseers. Juanillo, who from his babyhood
had spent his days under the doorway in the suburb de la Feria,
watching his father work, should become a shoemaker, by the will of
Señora Angustias.
She took him away from school, where he had only learnt to read
very badly, and at twelve years old he was apprenticed to one of the
best shoemakers in Seville.
Now commenced the martyrdom of the poor woman. Ay! that
urchin. The son of such honoured parents!... Almost every day
instead of going to his master's shop, he would go to the slaughter-
house with certain ragamuffins, who had their meeting place on a
bench in the Alameda de Hercules, and for the amusement of
shepherds and slaughtermen, would venture to throw a cloak before
the oxen, frequently getting knocked over and trampled. The Señora
Angustias, who watched many nights needle in hand, so that her
son should go decently clad to the workshop in clean clothes, would
find him at the house door, afraid to come in, but from the extremity
of his hunger equally afraid to run away, with his trousers torn, his
jacket filthy, and bruises and grazes on his face.
To the bruises of the treacherous oxen would be added his mother's
blows and beatings with a broomstick: but the hero of the slaughter-
house endured everything, as long as he could get his poor pittance,
"Beat me, but give me something to eat," and with an appetite
sharpened by the violent exercise, he would swallow the hard bread,
the weevilled beans, the putrefied salt cod, all the damaged goods
that the thrifty woman found in the shops, which enabled her to
maintain the family on very little money.
Busy all day scrubbing the floors of other people's houses, it was
only now and again in the evenings that she was able to look after
her son, going to his master's shop to enquire about the apprentice's
progress. When she returned from the shoemaker's she was usually
panting with rage, promising herself to administer the most
stupendous punishments in order to correct the rascal.
On most days he never went near the shop at all. He spent the
mornings at the slaughter-house, and in the evenings formed one of
a group of other vagabonds at the entrance of the Calle de las
Sierpes, prowling round the groups of toreros without contracts, who
assembled in La Campana, dressed in new clothes with spick and
span hats, and scarcely a peseta between them in their pockets,
each one boasting of his own imaginary exploits.
Juanillo viewed them as creatures of amazing superiority, he envied
their fine carriage, and the coolness with which they ogled the
women. The idea that each one of those men had in his house a set
of silk clothes embroidered with gold, and being dressed in these
would march past before the crowd to the sound of music, produced
a shiver of respect.
The son of Señora Angustias was known to all his ragged
companions as "Zapaterin,"[50] and he seemed delighted at having
a nickname, like almost all the great men who appeared in the
circus. Everything must have a beginning. Round his neck he wore a
red handkerchief filched from his sister, and from beneath his cap
the hair fell over his ears in long locks, which he smoothed with
saliva. He wanted to have his drill blouses made short to the waist
with many pleats, his trousers, old remains of his father's wardrobe,
high in the waist, full in the legs, well fitting over the hips; and he
wept with humiliation when his mother would not give in to these
requirements.
A cape! Oh! to possess a fighting cape, not to have to implore the
loan of the coveted garment for a few moments from others more
fortunate than himself!... In a small room in their house lay an old
empty mattress from which Señora Angustias had sold the wool in
days of distress. The Zapaterin spent one morning shut up in that
room, taking advantage of his mother's absence, who was working
that day at a canon's house. With the ingenuity of a ship-wrecked
man, left to his own resources on a desert island, who has to make
everything for himself, he cut out a fighting cape from the damp and
ravelled linen. Afterwards he boiled in a pipkin a handful of red
aniline which he had bought at a druggists, and dipped the old linen
in the dye. Then Juanillo looked at the result of his work. A cape of
the most brilliant scarlet which would arouse many envies at the
"capeas" in different villages!... It only wanted drying. So he hung it
in the sun among the neighbours' white clothes. The wind waving
the dripping rag, spotted the neighbouring garments, and a chorus
of maledictions and threats, of clenched fists, and mouths uttering
the most abusive words against him and his mother, obliged the
Zapaterin to seize his cape of glory and bolt; his hands and face
covered with red, as if he had just committed a murder.
The Señora Angustias was a strong woman, obese and mustachioed,
who feared no man, and compelled respect from other women by
her energetic determination, but with her son she was weak and
soft-hearted. What could she do?... She had laid violent hands on
every part of the boy's body, and broom sticks had been broken with
no apparent result. That cursed one, said she, had the hide of a dog.
Accustomed out of the house to the tremendous butting of the
calves, the cruel tramplings of the cows, to the sticks of the
herdsmen and slaughtermen, who thrashed the tauric aspirants
without mercy, his mother's blows seemed a natural event, a
continuation of his out-door life prolonged into his family life, which
he accepted without the slightest intention of amendment, as a fine
he had to pay in return for food. So he gnawed the hard bread with
starving gluttony, while the maternal blows and maledictions rained
on his shoulders.
As soon as his hunger was satisfied he ran away from the house,
availing himself of the liberty perforce left by Señora Angustias, who
was absent, busy at her tasks.
In La Campana, the venerable agora of tauric gossip, where all the
great news of the "aficion" circulated, he got tidings from his friends
which made him tremble with delight.
"Zapaterin, there is a corrida to-morrow."
The country villages celebrated the feast-day of their patron saint by
"capeas" of already[51] tried bulls, and there the young toreros
walked, in the hope of being able to say on their return, that they
had spread their cloaks in the celebrated Plazas of Aznalcollar,
Bollullos or Mairena. They would begin their journey at night, with
their cloaks over their shoulders if it were summer, or wrapped
round them if it were winter, their stomachs empty, talking all the
time of bulls.
If their tramp lasted several days they would camp on the ground, or
be admitted out of charity to the hay-loft of some inn. Alas! for the
grapes, the melons and the figs they came across on their way in
the warm season. Their only anxiety was lest some other party,
some other cuadrilla should have had the same inspiration, and
would arrive in the town before them, thus establishing a rough
competition.
When they came to the end of their journey, their brows dusty and
their mouths parched, tired and foot weary from the tramp, they
presented themselves before the alcalde, and the boldest among
them, who fulfilled the functions of director spoke of the merits of
the troup, who thought themselves lucky if municipal generosity
lodged them in the inn stables, and gave them in addition an "olla"
[52] which was emptied in a few seconds.
In the square of the town, enclosed with carts and boarded
scaffolding, old bulls would be loosed, veritable castles of flesh,
covered with seams and scars, with enormous sharp horns, brutes
that for many years had been baited at all the holidays in the
province, venerable animals who "knew Latin."[53] Their cunning
was so great that accustomed to the perpetual baiting they were in
the secrets of all the possibilities of the fight. The boys of the town
pricked these beasts from a safe place, and the people derived more
amusement from the "toreros" from Seville even than from the bull.
The youngsters spread their cloaks with trembling legs, but their
hearts comforted by the weight in their stomachs. There was great
delight among the crowd when any one of them was knocked over;
and when any lad among them in sudden terror took refuge behind
the palisades, the peasant barbarians received him with insults,
striking the hands clutching hold of the wood, and thrashing him on
the legs to make him jump again into the Plaza. "Arre, coward! show
your face to the bull. Cheat!"
Sometimes one of the "diestros" would be carried out of the Plaza by
four of his companions, pale with the whiteness of paper, his eyes
glassy, his head hanging, and his breast heaving like a broken
bellows. The barber would arrive, reassuring them all as he saw no
blood, it was only the shock the lad had suffered in being tossed to a
distance of several yards, and falling on the ground like a bundle of
clothes. At other times it was the agony of being trampled under
foot by some enormously heavy animal; then a pail of water would
be dashed on his head, and when he recovered his senses, he would
be treated to a long draught of aguardiente from Cazalla de la
Sierra. Not even a prince could be better cared for, and back he went
to the Plaza again.
When the grazier had no more bulls to loose and night was
beginning to fall, two of the cuadrilla, choosing the best cloak of the
company, and holding it by the corners, would go from stand to
stand asking for some gratuity. Copper money would rain into the
red cloth according to the amusement the strangers had given to the
inhabitants, and the corrida being ended they would recommence
their tramp home, knowing their credit at the inn was exhausted.
Very often on the way home they quarrelled over the division of the
coins which were carried tied up in a handkerchief.
All the rest of the week would be spent narrating their exploits
before the wide open eyes of the chums who had not been of the
expedition. They would tell of their "veronicas"[54] in El Garrobo, of
their "navarras"[55] in Lora, or of a terrible goring in El Pedroso,
imitating the airs and attitudes of the true professionals, who, a few
steps away from them, were consoling themselves for their failure to
get contracts, by every sort of bragging and lies.
On one occasion the Señora Angustias was more than a week
without news of her son. At last vague rumours came that he had
been wounded in a "capea" at the village of Tocino. Dios mio! Where
might that village be? How should she get to it?... She made sure
her son was dead and wept for him, nevertheless she wished to go
to the place herself. While, however, she was considering the
journey Juanillo arrived, pale and weak, but speaking with manly
pride of his accident.
It was nothing. A prick in the buttock, which, with the
shamelessness born of his triumph he wished to show to all the
neighbours, declaring that he could put his finger in several inches
without its coming to the end. He was proud of the smell of
iodoform which he dispersed as he passed, and he spoke gratefully
of the attentions which had been paid to him in that town, which,
according to him, was the finest in all Spain. The richest people
there, the aristocracy as one might say, were interested in his
mishap, and the alcalde had been to see him, afterwards giving him
his return fare. He still had three duros in his purse, which he made
over to his mother with the air of a grand gentleman. So much fame
at fourteen! His pride was all the greater when in La Campana,
several toreros (real toreros) deigned to take notice of him,
enquiring how his wound was getting on.
After this accident he never again returned to his master's shop. He
knew now what bulls were, and his wound only served to increase
his boldness. He would be a torero; and nothing but a torero! The
Señora Angustias abandoned all her projects of correction, judging
them to be useless. She tried to ignore her son's existence. When he
arrived home at night, at the time his mother and sister were
supping together, they gave him his food in silence, intending to
crush him with their contempt, but this in no way interfered with his
appetite. If he arrived late, they did not even keep a scrap of bread
for him, and he was obliged to go out again, as empty as he had
come in.
He was one of the evening promenaders in the Alameda de
Hercules, with other vicious-eyed lads, a confused mixture of
apprentices, criminals, and toreros. The neighbours met him
sometimes in the streets talking to young gentlemen whose airs
made the women laugh, or grave caballeros to whom slander gave
feminine nicknames. Sometimes he would sell newspapers, or during
the great festivals of Holy Week he would sell packets of caramels in
the Plaza de San Francisco. At the time of the fair, he would loiter
about the hotels waiting for an "Englishman," because for him all
travellers were English, hoping to be engaged as guide.
"Milord!... I am a torero!" ... he would say, seeing a foreign figure,
as if this professional qualification was an undeniable
recommendation to strangers.
In order to establish his identity, he would take off his cap, letting
the pigtail fall down behind, the long lock of hair which as a rule he
wore rolled up on the top of his head.
His companion in wretchedness was Chiripa, a lad of the same age,
small of body and malicious of eye. He had neither father nor
mother, and had wandered about Seville ever since he could
remember anything. He exercised over Juanillo all the influence of
greater experience. He had one cheek scarred by a bull's horn, and
this visible wound the Zapaterin considered greatly superior to his
invisible one.
When at the door of an hotel some lady, bitten by the idea of "local
colour," spoke with the young toreros, admired their pig-tails,
listened to the stories of their exploits, and ended by giving them
some money, Chiripa would say in a whining voice.
"Do not give it to him, he has a mother, and I am alone in the world.
He who has a mother does not know what he has!"
And the Zapaterin, seized with a feeling of compunction, would allow
the other lad to take possession of all the money, murmuring:
"That is true; that is true."
This filial tenderness did not prevent Juanillo continuing his
abnormal existence, only putting in an occasional appearance at
Señora Angustias' house, and often undertaking long journeys away
from Seville.
Chiripa was a past master of a vagabond life. On the days of a
corrida he would make up his mind to get into the Plaza de Toros
somehow with his comrade, and would employ for this end every
sort of stratagem, such as scaling the walls, slipping in among the
people unperceived, or even softening the officials by humble
prayers. A fiesta taurina,[56] and they who were of the profession
not there to see it!... When there were no "capeas" in the provincial
towns, they would go and spread their cloaks before the young bulls
in the pastures of Tablada. These attractions of Sevillian life,
however, were not sufficient to satisfy their ambition.
Chiripa had wandered much, and told his companion of all the things
he had seen in the distant provinces. He was expert in the art of
travelling gratuitously and hiding himself cleverly on the trains. The
Zapaterin listened with delight to his description of Madrid, that city
of dreams with its Bull-ring, which was a kind of Cathedral of bull-
fighting.
One day a gentleman at the door of a café in the Calle de las Sierpes
told them, in order to take a rise out of them, that they might earn a
great deal of money in Bilbao, as toreros did not abound there as
they did in Seville. So the two lads undertook the journey with
empty purses, and no luggage but their capes—real capes, which
had belonged to toreros whose names figured on placards, and
bought by them for a few reals in an old clothes shop.
They crept cautiously into the trains, hiding themselves beneath the
seats, but hunger and other necessities obliged them to divulge their
presence to their fellow travellers, who ended by pitying their plight,
laughing at the queer figures they cut, with their pig-tails and capes,
and finally giving them the remains of their victuals. When any
official gave chase at the stations, they would run from carriage to
carriage, or try to climb on the roofs to await, lying flat, the starting
of the train. Many times they were caught, seized by the ears to the
accompaniment of blows and kicks, and left, standing on the
platform of a lonely station, to watch the train vanish like a lost
hope.
They would wait for the passing of the next train, bivouacing in the
open air, or if they found they were being watched would start to
walk over the deserted fields to the next station, in the hope that
there they would be more fortunate. And so they arrived at Madrid
after an adventurous journey of many days, with long waits and not
a few cuffs. In the Calle de Sevilla and the Puerta del Sol, they
admired the groups of unemployed toreros, superior beings, from
whom they ventured to beg—without any result—a little alms to
continue their journey. A servant of the Plaza de Toros who came
from Seville had pity on them, and let them sleep in the stables,
procuring them further the delight of seeing a corrida of young bulls
in the famous circus, which, however, did not seem to them as
imposing as the one in their own country.
Frightened at their own daring, and seeing the end of their excursion
ever further and further off, they decided to return to Seville in the
same way that they had come, but from that time they took a
pleasure in these stolen journeys on the railway. They travelled to
many places of small importance in the different Andalusian
provinces, whenever they heard vague rumours of "fiestas" with
their corresponding "capeas." In this way they travelled as far as La
Mancha, and Estremadura, and if bad luck obliged them to go on
foot, they took refuge in the hovels of the peasants, credulous,
good-natured people, who were astounded at their youth, their
daring and their bombastic talk, and took them for real toreros.
This wandering existence made them exercise the cunning of
primitive man to satisfy their wants. In the neighbourhood of
country houses, they would crawl on their stomachs to steal the
vegetables without being seen. They would watch whole hours for a
solitary hen to come near them, and having wrung her neck would
proceed on their tramp, to light a fire of dry wood in the middle of
the day, and swallow the poor bird scorched and half raw with the
voracity of little savages. The field mastiffs they feared more than
bulls; these watchdogs were difficult brutes to fight, when they
rushed upon the boys showing their fangs, as if the strange aspect
of the latter infuriated them and they scented enemies to personal
property.
Sometimes when they were sleeping in the open air near a station
waiting for a train to pass, a couple of Civil Guards would rouse
them. However, the guardians of law and order were pacified when
they saw the red cloth bundles which served these vagabonds as
pillows. Very civilly they would take off the urchins' caps, and finding
the hairy appendage of the pig-tail, they would move off laughing,
and make no further enquiries. They were not little thieves; they
were "aficionados" going to the "capeas." In this tolerance there was
a mixture of sympathy for the national pastime, and respect towards
the obscurity of the future. Who could tell if perhaps one of these
ragged lads, with poverty stricken exterior, might not become in the
future a "star of the art," a great man who would pledge[57] bulls to
kings, would live like a prince, and whose exploits and sayings would
be recorded in the newspapers!
At last an evening came, when, in a town of Estremadura the
Zapaterin found himself alone.
In order the more to astonish the rustic audience who were
applauding the famous toreros "come purposely from Seville," the
two lads thought they would fix banderillas in the neck of an old and
very tricky bull. Juanillo had fixed his darts in the beast's neck and
stood near a staging, delighting in receiving the popular ovation,
which expressed itself in tremendous thumps on his back and offers
of glasses of wine. An exclamation of horror startled him out of this
intoxication of triumph. Chiripa was no longer standing on the
ground of the Plaza. Nothing remained of him but the banderillas
rolling on the ground, one slipper and his cap. The bull was tossing
his head as if irritated at some obstacle, carrying impaled on one of
his horns a bundle of clothes like a doll. By violent head-shakes the
shapeless bundle was flung off the horn pouring out a red stream,
but before it reached the ground it was caught by the other horn,
and twirled about for some time. At last the luckless bundle fell into
the dust, and lay there limp and lifeless, pouring out blood, like a
pierced wine skin letting out the wine in jets.
The grazier with his bell oxen drew the brute into the yard, for no
one dared to approach him, and the unhappy Chiripa was carried on
a straw mattress to a room in the Town Hall which usually served as
a prison. His companion saw him there with his face as white as
plaster, his eyes dull, and his body red with blood which the cloths
soaked in vinegar—applied in default of anything better—were
unable to staunch.
"Adio, Zapaterin!" he sighed. "Adio, Juaniyo!" and spoke no more.
The dead lad's companion, quite overcome, started on his return to
Seville, haunted by those glassy eyes, hearing those moaning
farewells. He was afraid. A quiet cow crossing his path would have
made him run. He thought of his mother and the wisdom of her
advice. Would it not be better to devote himself to shoe-making and
live quietly?... Those ideas, however, only lasted as long as he was
alone.
On arriving in Seville he once more felt the influence of the
pervading atmosphere. His friends surrounded him anxious to hear
every detail of poor Chiripa's death. The professional toreros
enquired about it in La Campana, recalling pitifully the little rascal
with the scarred face who had run so many errands for them. Juan,
fired by such marks of consideration, gave rein to his powerful
imagination, and described how he had thrown himself on the bull
when he saw his unlucky companion caught, how he had seized the
brute by the tail, with other portentous exploits, in spite of which
poor Chiripa had made his exit from this world.
This painful impression soon disappeared. He would be a torero and
nothing but a torero; if others became that, why not he? He thought
of the weevilled beans, and his mother's dry bread, of the abuse
which each new pair of trousers drew on him, of hunger, the
inseparable companion of so many of his expeditions. Besides he felt
a vehement longing for all the enjoyments and luxuries of life, he
looked with envy at the coaches and horses; he stood absorbed
before the doorways of the great houses, through whose iron
wickets he could see court-yards of oriental luxury, with arcades of
Moorish tiles; floors of marble and murmuring fountains, which
dropped a shower of pearls day and night over basins surrounded by
green leaves. His fate was decided. He would kill bulls or die. He
would be rich, so that the newspapers should speak of him, and
people bow before him, even though it were at the cost of his life.
He despised the inferior ranks of the torero. He saw the
banderilleros who risked their lives, just like the masters of the
profession, receive thirty duros only for each corrida, and, after a life
of fatigues and gorings, with no future for their old age but some
wretched little shop started with their savings, or some employment
at a slaughter-house. Many died in hospitals; the majority begged
for charity from their younger companions. Nothing for him of
banderilleros, or of spending many years in a cuadrilla, under the
despotism of a master! He would kill bulls from the first and tread
the sand of the Plazas as an espada at once.
The misfortune of poor Chiripa gave him a certain ascendancy
among his companions, and he formed a cuadrilla, a ragged cuadrilla
who tramped after him to the "capeas" in the villages. They
respected him because he was the bravest and the best dressed.
Several girls of loose life attracted by the manly beauty of the
Zapaterin, who was now eighteen, and also by the prestige of his
pig-tail, quarrelled among themselves in noisy rivalry, as to who
should have the care of his comely person. Added to this, he now
reckoned on a Godfather, an old patron and former magistrate, who
had a weakness for smart young toreros, but whose intimacy with
her son made Señora Angustias furious, and caused her to give vent
to all the most obscene expressions she had learnt while she was at
the Tobacco factory.
The Zapaterin wore suits of English woollen cloth well fitted to his
elegant figure, and his hats were always spick and span. His female
associates looked to the scrupulous whiteness of his collars and shirt
fronts, and on great days he wore over his waistcoat a double chain
of gold like ladies wear, a loan from his respected friend, which had
already figured round the necks of several youngsters who were
beginning their careers.
He now mixed with the real toreros, and he could afford to stand
treat to the old servants who remembered the exploits of the famous
masters. It was rumoured as true, that certain patrons were working
in favour of this "lad," and were only waiting for a propitious
occasion for his début, at the baiting of novillos[58] in the Plaza of
Seville.
The Zapaterin was already a matador. One day at Lebrija, a most
lively bull was turned into the arena, his companions egged him on
to the supreme feat: "Do you dare to put your hand to him?" ... and
he did put his hand. Afterwards, emboldened by the facility with
which he had come out of the peril, he went to all the "capeas" in
which it was announced that the novillos would be killed, and to all
the farm houses where they baited and killed cattle.
The proprietor of La Rinconada—a rich grange with its own small
bull-ring—was an enthusiast, who kept the table laid, and his hay-
loft open for all the starving "aficionados" who wished to amuse
themselves fighting his cattle. Juanillo had been there in the days of
his poverty with other companions, to eat to the health of the rural
hidalgo. They would arrive on foot after a two days' tramp, and the
proprietor seeing the dusty troup with their bundles of cloaks would
say solemnly:
"To whoever does best, I will give his ticket to return to Seville by
train."
The master of the farm spent two days smoking in the balcony of his
Plaza, whilst the youngsters from Seville fought his young bulls,
being often knocked over and pawed.
"That's no use whatever, blunderer!" he would cry, reproving a cloak
pass ill delivered.
"Up from the ground, coward!... And tell them to give you some
wine to get over your fright," ... he would shout when a lad
continued lying full length on the ground after a bull had passed
over his body.
The Zapaterin killed a novillo so much to the taste of its owner, that
the latter seated him at his own table, while his comrades remained
in the kitchen with the shepherds and labourers, dipping their horn
spoons into the common steaming pot.
"You have earned your journey in the railway, Gacho. You will go far,
if your heart does not fail you. You have capabilities."
When the Zapaterin began his return journey to Seville in a second-
class carriage, while the cuadrilla commenced theirs on foot, he
thought a new life was opening for him, and he cast looks of envy
on the enormous grange, with its extensive olive-yards, its mills, its
pastures which lost themselves to sight, on which thousands of
goats grazed and bulls and cows ruminated quietly with their legs
tucked under them. What wealth! If he could only some day arrive
at possessing something similar!
The fame of his prowess in baiting the young bulls in the villages
reached Seville, attracting the notice of some of the restless and
insatiable amateurs, who were always hoping for the rise of a new
star to eclipse the existing ones.
"He looks a promising lad" ... they said, seeing him pass along the
Calle de las Sierpes, with a short step swinging his arms proudly.
"We shall have to see him on the 'true ground.'"
This ground for them and for the Zapaterin was the circus of the
Plaza of Seville. The youngster was soon to find himself face to face
with "the truth."[59] His protector had acquired for him a gala dress
a little used, the cast-off finery of some nameless matador. A corrida
of novillos was being organized for some charitable purpose, and
some influential amateurs, anxious for novelty, succeeded in
including him in the programme—gratuitously—as matador.
The son of Señora Angustias would not allow himself to be
announced on the placards by his nickname of Zapaterin, which he
wished to forget. He would have nothing to do with nicknames, still
less with any subordinate employment. He wished to be known by
his father's names, he intended to be Juan Gallardo; and that no
nickname should remind the great people, who in the future would
indubitably be his friends, of his low origin.
All the suburb of la Feria rushed "en masse" to the corrida, with
turbulent and patriotic ardour. Those of la Macarena also showed
their interest, and all the other workmen's suburbs were roused to
the same enthusiasm. A new Sevillian Matador!... There were not
places enough for all, and thousands of people remained outside
anxiously awaiting news of the corrida.
Gallardo baited, killed, was rolled over by a bull without being
wounded; keeping his audience on tenter hooks with his audacities,
which in most cases turned out luckily, provoking immense howls of
enthusiasm. Certain amateurs whose opinions were worthy of
respect smiled complacently. He still had a great deal to learn, but
he had courage and goodwill, which is the most important thing.
Above all he goes in to kill truly, and he is at last on the "true
ground."
During the corrida the good-looking girls, friends of the diestro,
rushed about frantic with enthusiasm, with hysterical contortions,
tearful eyes, and slobbering mouths, making use in broad daylight of
all the loving words they generally kept for night. One flung her
cloak into the arena, another, to go one better, her blouse and her
stays, another tore off her skirt, till the spectators seized hold of
them laughing, fearing they would throw themselves next into the
arena, or remain in their shifts.
On the other side of the Plaza, the old magistrate smiled tenderly
under his white beard, admiring the youngster's courage, and
thinking how well the gala dress became him. On seeing him rolled
over by the bull, he threw himself back in his seat as if he were
fainting. That was too much for him.
Between the barriers Encarnacion's husband strutted with pride, he
was a saddler with a small open shop; a prudent man, detesting
vagrancy, he had fallen in love with the cigarette maker's charms,
and married her, but on the express condition of having nothing to
do with that bad lot, her brother.
Gallardo, offended by his brother-in-law's sour face, had never
attempted to set foot in his shop, situated on the outskirts of la
Macarena, neither had he ever ceased to use the ceremonious
"Uste" when he met him sometimes in the evening at Señora
Angustias' house.
"I am going to see how they will pelt that vagabond brother of yours
with oranges to make him run," he had said to his wife as he left for
the Plaza.
But now from his seat he was applauding the diestro, shouting to
him as Juaniyo, calling him "tu," peacocking with delight when the
youngster, attracted by the shouting at last saw him, and replied
with a wave of his rapier.
"He is my brother-in-law" ... explained the saddler, in order to attract
the attention of those around him. "I have always thought that
youngster would be something in the bull-fighting line. My wife and I
have helped him a great deal."
The exit was triumphal. The crowd threw themselves on Juanillo, as
if they intended to devour him in their expansive delight. It was a
mercy his brother-in-law was there to restore order, to cover him
with his body, and conduct him to the hired carriage, in which he
finally took his seat by the side of the Novillero.
When they arrived at the little house in the suburb of la Feria, an
immense crowd followed the carriage, and like all popular
manifestations they were shouting vivas which made the inhabitants
run to their doors. The news of his triumph had arrived before the
diestro, and all the neighbours ran to look at him and shake his
hand.
The Señora Angustias and her daughter were standing at the house
door. The saddler almost lifted his brother-in-law out in his arms,
monopolizing him, shouting and gesticulating in the name of the
family to prevent anyone touching him as though he were a sick
man.
"Here he is; Encarnacion"—he said pushing him towards his wife.
"He is the real Roger de Flor!"[60]
Encarnacion did not need to ask any more, for she knew that her
husband, as a result of some far off and confused reading,
considered this historic personage as the embodiment of all
greatness, and only ventured to join his name to portentous events.
Other neighbours who had come from the corrida insinuatingly
flattered Señora Angustias, as they looked admiringly at her portly
figure.
Blessed be the mother who bore so brave a son!...
The poor woman's eyes wore an expression of bewilderment and
doubt. Could it be really her Juanillo who was making everyone run
about so enthusiastically?... Had they all gone mad?
But suddenly she threw herself upon him, as if all the past had
vanished, as if her sorrows and rages were a dream; as if she were
confessing to a shameful error. Her enormous flabby arms were
flung round the torero's neck, and tears wetted one of his cheeks.
"My son! Juaniyo!... If your poor father could see you!"
"Don't cry, mother ... for this is a happy day. You will see. If God
gives me luck I will build you a house, and your friends shall see you
in a carriage, and you shall wear a Manila shawl which will make
everyone...."
The saddler acknowledged those promises of grandeur with
affirmative nods, standing opposite his bewildered wife, who had not
yet got over her surprise at this radical change. "Yes, Encarnacion;
this youngster can do everything if he takes the trouble ... he was
extraordinary! the real Roger de Flor himself!"
That night in the taverns of the people's suburbs, nothing was talked
of but Gallardo.
The torero of the future. As startling as the roses! This lad will take
off the chignons[61] of all the Cordovan caliphs.
In this speech Sevillian pride was latent, the perpetual rivalry with
the people of Cordova, also a country of fine bull-fighters.