I : LXXV - LXXX The Cost of Glory (or Silent Death of the Raging Bull)

It always takes longer, sometimes it seems infinitely longer, to prepare for a battle than when it actually takes off. The bullfight is like war in every aspect, including the sound of its fatal moment. Three clarion notes, and the slashing, the attacking, the killing begin, two forcefield charged to their maximum.

The bull represents different things in different cultures, but all has fascinating tales. Europa's gorgeous white bull to her, and to everyone represents passion, transformation,virility, strength. We know that the bull was actually Zeus in disguise, indeed, but the fact that the king of gods chose the bull as his animal embodiment, clearly suggested the kind of image a bull can project. It's majestic, a monarch amongst the herbivores to be sure. In other words, if a bull is onto you and he wants to kill you, it's purely for emotional motivation and purpose, he does't even want to eat you. So don't ever mess with that family.

Like a gladiatore the matador stumbles his way around the beast, teasing and trying and giving a show. How much fear must he have endured! It's an enclosed space, yet a perfect metaphor of the survival of the fittest. It seems a chaotic and primal fight, yet every single step, every movement is calculated, given  much thought, one side manipulation the other, and vice versa, and eventually neither could walk out intact. For the matador, it's also an emotional torture.

Some 100 years after Lord Byron's time, 1926 to be specific, Hemingway described another bullfight in The Sun Also Rises, this time in Pampona during the Festival of San Fermin. Full house every night, featuring minor bullfighters and gallant horses, it's a tradition, or an addiction of human race. Why else do you think action films will always be blockbusters and enjoy killer box office? Men always feel good about themselves then they are proven to be conquerors of nature, even if the cost is more than the reward.

This action packed stanza described the process of the fight right to the moment as the bull gave up. It's all very sudden just as its sudden start. You can almost see the flashing red mantle, the darts sticking out of the bull's body which bloodstreams across his skin, the glistening sword in the matador's hand...

The bull's ear is bestowed to the winner. It's similar to the golden fleece I suppose, although much bloodier and more symbolic. It's a useless piece of meat from your victim! What good is that for? It's a silent death after much celebrated and expected struggle. It's a show, with equal likelihood of survival and death, at least on the surface.

Again, it's a show, attracting men and women alike. Men are envious of, women smitten by the glorious matadors, only a silent death is the cost. 

I : LXVIII - LXXIV Before the Killing

I could only imagine how the air would thicken before a bullfight. What an act of savage and grace, exciting and dreadful, sacred and barbaric. How ironic it happened to be the sabbath, and this city is giving the gods in all the glory, a competition between man and beast, a struggle till the last breath.

The arena is full, the bull restless, the energy spouting like blood, and you hear the roaring though uncertain whether it's from the magnificent animal, or the resonance and echoes of the crowd's breathes and thoughts.

arena before the fight

It's something insatiably beautiful and sad, for you know the fight goes on until one side of the opponents is dead. 

The sabbath, in a religious sense, is the 7th day in a week, god's sacred day of rest. Depending on which religion you're in, the timing would be different. Here the poet is indicating Christian sabbath, though in Judaism, sabbath starts after sundown on Friday.

It's strikingly a cultural thing, for a bullfight in Spain is like a religious gathering in, well, for example says the poet, in London. Nobilities from all directions swarm in from their country houses, their carriages jamming the streets, to the cathedrals they go. 

Yet here in this arena it's a celebration of men's conquering of nature, in finest apparels and noblest agility. Something Byron wouldn't be able to do if I may add, which is possibly why he got so overwhelmed and fascinated by this beauty, or terror, depending on your point of view. 

There's no differences between the votaries of god: young, old, rich, poor, their confessions alike, forgiven before the altar, similarly amongst the audience of a bullfight. They are witnessing a crime, committed by men, yet the killers will be rewarded for their courage and heroism. Isn't it ironic if you really think about the nature of the fight?

All is silent before the killing. Imagine, outside of the area the streets would be empty. Everyone you know would be sitting inside of this round, heated, tormenting space overlooking a stretch of crimson coloured earth. The battle between the matador and the bull will soon begin. 

You'd be surprised to find out that the audience consists mostly of ladies. It's an exhibition of strength and agility of men, to be sure, indeed an attraction and a fantastical scene. 

The arena is a power source ready to release its energy at any time now. It's almost as though nothing else in the universe mattered, and all is focused on the centre of this space: the matador dressed in gold and embroidery; the bull, o that magnificent creature, is a spiritual embodiment of what is expected of the matador. The two of them, discrepant in size and actual strength, yet equivalent in their bosting aura.

It's been documented in memoirs that Byron didn't enjoy the bullfight although inspired by it. I cannot imagine what kind of emotional turmoil he'd been in during the show, but I believe that he would see more of himself, not in the matador  but rather in the bull, panting and prancing underneath the gazing of an entire universe. There about to be bloodshed and injury. Just like what his fame did to him, which exploded too quickly when he was mere 24.

the Matador - from Charles Lisanby

Vicente Blasco Ibanez wrote a Blood and Sand (Sangre y Arena). The entire act of a bullfight is almost a reflection of Byron's life, which had been teaming with struggle and mess, metaphorically presented in a limited space: it has more symbolism but much more exciting and concise. I'm not certain whether he enjoyed much of the act, but he surely understood all and sympathized with both. Maybe more with the bull, for the matador represents more of his vanity, yet the bull, his truth identity.