A Bull-Fight in Peru.

Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1621, 24 April 1875, Page 6 (Supplement)

A Bull-Fight in Peru.

A LADY writing from Peru gives an .•account; of a bull-fight -which she attended. She says: Soon a side door opened and a bull, maddened by previous torture, bounded into the arena, a train of torpedoes saluting him. He stood still a moment, panting with excitement^ his fceautiful eye filled with a wild expression ; then, pawing the earth furiously, he was approached by a capeadore, who flaunted his bright capes in his face. The enraged beast rushed at full speed upon horse and rider ; but just as the horns were lowered to gore them the capeadore, with wonderful dexterity, turned his horse quickly in another direction and repeated the teasing, which was followed by another attack, the bull being out-maneuvered by the sudden approach and irritating display of the other capeadore; and thus they drew the danger from one to the other. But not • always does the capeadore escape ; many times a y^ar both horse and rider are killed or severely wounded by an unusually fierce or fleet bull. Whe'xi at last the poor animal became intoxicated with frenzy, then the wild play between the tnatadores, the "ficadores, and their victim commenced, and the excitement made one shudder and grow sick with horror.

It seemed as though evil spirits clothed in dazzling garments were before us, tempting death in every motion ; flying in every direction they were, their long capes now trailing on the ground —winding in and out of the labyrinth of poles—rushing at full speed the whole length of the arena, the bull like a wild demon close at their heels, till some retreat was reached and the baffled animal given a chance to make but a plunge, when another chase was given him. At last he began to show fright with his anget1; then a picadore l with the most insiduous daring and graceful motion, approached the bulls head, whirled a scarlet cape in his face, and, with a swift throw, fastened into his neck a barbed arrow. Three or four of these weapons were thus planted, and a wreath of blood encircled the suffering creature's neck. Shaking his head, and bounding with pain, he became terrible in his fury, which met with a corresponding increase of agility and power on the part of the matadores and picadores.

At this juncture, a matadore presented himself before the master of ceremonies and asked permission to kill the bull. It was granted; he bowed low in acknowledgment of the favor, and came forward with, a proud bearing, sword in hand, over which a gay cloth was thrown to attract the poor animal to his death. Then this fearful tragedy in pantomime increased each moment in fascination and cruelty blanching the cheek of a novice, and bringing the colour of excitement to the faces of those accustomed to such scenes.

No words can describe the infuriated, passionate, bleeding creature, panting with fear, tossing his head madly with pain, pawing the earth in desperation, and yet relentlessly pursued by his tormentors, who grew more daring as the excitement increased. Hecklessly these men exposed themselves to danger —darting under the hull's horns, running races with only the trailing cape between them and a most ignoble death. But in the whirling of alf those bright colors, and the evolutions of those splendidly costumed men, there was method at this stage. The animal had to be driven into and kept within certain limits, and after a while confined to plunging from one to another. The bull-killer kept close by his side, watching his opportunity, and calculating with a nicety worthy of a better cause, the motions of his victim, knowing when a mad plunge would come, and, with his cape or the end of his swerd, he met it with an incomparably graceful spring. Thus the brute without a soul, and the brute with a soul, met face to face in the almost equal contest for life. Quick as lightning the long, gleaming sword was thrust behind the shoulder-blade, that it might find the heart. Often the first thrust is not successful, and the tortured creature, bounding and writhing in agony, loosens the sword and it falls out, when the chase has- to commence again.

Sometimes, it is said, he dashes near the box of some brave senorita, and she reaches out her tawny hand, blazing with diamonds, and plunges deeper into the wound the cold steel. One metadore being successful, buried the sword to the hilt in the animal's body, when he soon staggered and fell with a heavy thud, while his tormentors circled around him, waving their brilliant capes in exultation. The bands struck up triumphant strains, by the tumultuous acclamations of thousands of spectators and the firing of rockets. Tour horses then were hurried into the arena, drawing a pair of low wheels, to which the dead bull was attached, and urged on at full speed by the lash, they dashed out through a gateway. This last act seemed the very climax of cruelty, yet was an appropriate inspiration for the next scene. On the afternoon in question eight bulls were slaughtered. "We witnessed two of these inhuman scenes, then were thankful to make our exit and breathe the pharisaical prayer, 'We are thankful, O Lord, that we are not wicked Peruvians.'