A further proof that the Mexican religion helped to spread this sense of

the instability of things is furnished by the grand jubilee festival

which was celebrated every fifty-two years in the city of Mexico and

throughout the empire. The Mexican cycle, marking the coincidence of

four times thirteen lunar and four times thirteen solar years,[35]

counted two-and-fifty years, and was called a "sheaf of years." Now

whenever the dawn of the fifty-third year drew near, the question was

anxiously put, whether the world would last any longer, and preparations

were made for the great ceremony of the _Toxilmolpilia_, or "binding up

of years." The day before, every fire was extinguished. All the priests

of the city of Mexico marched in procession to a mountain situated at

two leagues' distance. The entire population followed them. They watched

the Pleiades intently. If the world was to come to an end, if the sun

was never to rise again, the Pleiades would not pass the zenith; but the

moment they passed it, it was known that a new era of fifty-two years

had been guaranteed to men. Fire was kindled anew by the friction of

wood. But the wood rested on the bosom of the handsomest of the

prisoners, and the moment it was lighted the victim's body was opened,

his heart torn out, and both heart and body burned upon a pile that was

lit by the new fire. No sooner did the people, who had remained on the

plain below, perceive the flame ascend, than they broke into delirious

joy. Another fifty-two years was before the world. More victims were

sacrificed in gratitude to the gods. Brands were lighted at the sacred

flame on the mountain, from which the domestic fires were in their turn

kindled, and swift couriers were despatched with torches, replaced

continually on the route, to the very extremities of the empire. It was

in the year 1507, twelve years before Cortes disembarked, that the

Toxilmolpilia was celebrated for the last time. In 1559, although the

mass of the natives had meanwhile been converted to Roman Catholicism,

the Spanish government had to take severe measures to prevent its

repetition.[36]

We have far firmer footing, then, than is furnished by the shifting

ground of the cosmogonies, when we insist upon the general prevalence of

the feeling that the world might veritably come to an end as it had done

before. Beyond this there was nothing fixed or generally accepted. Much

the same might be said of the future life. The Mexicans believed in

man's survival after death. This we see from the practice of putting a

number of useful articles into the tomb by the side of the corpse, after

first breaking them, so that they too might die and their spirits might

accompany that of the departed to his new abodes. They even gave him

some Tepitoton, or little household gods, to take with him, and as a

rule they killed a dog to serve as his guide in the mysterious and

painful journey which he was about to undertake. Sometimes a very rich

man would go so far as to have his chaplain slaughtered, that he might

not be deprived of his support in the other world. But in all this there

is nothing to distinguish the Mexican religion from the beliefs that

stretched over the whole of America, and there is no indication that any

moral conception had as yet vivified and hallowed the prospect beyond

the grave. The mass of ordinary mortals remained in the sombre, dreary,

monotonous realm of Mictlan; for in Mexico, as in Polynesia, a really

happy immortality was a privilege reserved for the aristocracy. There

were several paradises, including that of Tlaloc, and above all the

"mansion of the Sun," destined to receive the kings, the nobles and the

warriors. There they hunt, they dance, they accompany the sun in his

course, they can change themselves into clouds or humming-birds. An

exception is made, however, irrespective of social rank, in favour of

warriors who fall in battle and women who die in child-bed, as well as

for the victims sacrificed in honour of the celestial deities and

destined to become their servants. So, too, the paradise of Tlaloc, a

most beauteous garden, is opened to all who have been drowned (for the

god of the waters has taken them to himself), to all who have died of

the diseases caused by moisture, and to the children who have been

sacrificed to him. We recognize in these exceptions an unquestionable

tendency to introduce the idea of justice as qualifying the desolating

doctrine of aristocratic privilege; and probably this principle of

justice would have become preponderant, here as elsewhere, had not the

destinies of the Mexican religion been suddenly broken off. Nor is it

easy to explain the asceticism and austerities of which we have spoken,

except on the supposition that those who practised them all their lives

believed they were thereby acquiring higher rights in the future life.

It must be admitted, however, that it is not in its doctrine of a future

life that the Mexican religion reached its higher developments.

We must postpone till we have examined the Peruvian religion, which

presents so many analogies to that of Mexico, while at the same time

differing from it so considerably, the final considerations suggested by

the strange compound of beliefs, now so barbarous and now so refined,

which we have passed in review. Spanish monks, as we all know, succeeded

within a few years in bringing the populations who had submitted to the

hardy conquerors within the pale of their Church. It was no very

difficult task. The whole past had vanished. The royal families, the

nobility, the clergy, all had perished. Faith in the national gods had

been broken by events. The new occupants laid a grievous yoke upon the

subject peoples, whom they crushed and oppressed with hateful tyranny;

but we must do the Franciscan monks, who were first on the field in the

work of conversion, the justice of testifying that they did whatever in

them lay to soften the fate of their converts and to plead their cause

before the Court of Spain. Nor were their efforts always unsuccessful.

They were rewarded by the unstinted confidence and affection of the

unhappy natives, who found little pity or comfort save at the hands of

the good Fathers. Let us add that many of the peoples, especially those

from whom the human tithes of which we have spoken had been exacted by

the Aztecs, were sensible of the humane and charitable aspects of a

religion that repudiated these hideous sacrifices in horror, and raised

up the hearts of the oppressed by its promises of a future bliss

conditioned by neither birth nor social rank.[37]

But the worthy monks could not give what they had not got. And the

religious education which they gave their converts reflected only too

faithfully their own narrow and punctilious monastic spirit, itself

almost as superstitious, though in another way, as what it supplanted.

Nay, more: in spite of the best dispositions on either side, it was

inevitable that the ancient habits and beliefs should long maintain

themselves, though more or less shrouded beneath the new orthodoxy. In

1571, the terrible Inquisition of Spain came and established itself in

Mexico to put an end to this state of things; and alas! it found as

many heretics as it could wish to show that it had not come for nothing.

And when the natives saw the fearful tribunal at work, when the fires of

the _autos-da-fe_ were kindled on the plain of Mexico and consumed by

tens or hundreds the victims condemned by the Holy Office, do you

suppose that the new converts felt well assured in their own hearts that

the God of the Gospel was, after all, much better than Uitzilopochtli

and Tezcatlipoca?[38]

But we are stepping beyond the domain of history we have marked out for

ourselves. The religion of Mexico is dead, and we cannot desire a

resurrection for it. But the memory it has left behind is at once

mournful and instructive. It has enriched history with its confirmatory

evidence as to the genesis, the power and the tragic force of religion

in human nature; and he who inspects its annals, now so poetical and now

so terror-laden, pauses in pensive thought before the grotesque but

imposing monument which thrills him with admiration even while he

recoils with horror.

LECTURE IV.

PERU.--ITS CIVILIZATION AND CONSTITUTION, THE LEGEND OF THE INCAS: THEIR

POLICY AND HISTORY.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,

We pass to-day from North to South America; and as in the former we

confined ourselves to the district which presented the Europeans of the

sixteenth century with the unlooked-for spectacle of a native

civilization and religion in an advanced stage of development, so in the

latter we shall specially study that other indigenous civilization,

likewise supported and patronized by a very curious and original

religion, which established itself along the Cordilleras on the

immensely long but comparatively narrow strip of land between those

mountains and the ocean. Peru, like Mexico, was the country of an

organized solar religion; but the former, even more than the latter,

displays this religion worked into the very tissues of a most remarkable

social structure, with which it is so completely identified as not to be

so much as conceivable without it. The empire of the Incas is one of the

most complete and absolute theocracies--perhaps the very most complete

and absolute--that the world has seen. But in order to get a clear idea

of what the Peruvian religion was, we must first say a word as to the

country itself, its physical constitution and its history.

The Peru of the Incas, as discovered and conquered by the Spaniards,

transcended the boundaries of the country now so called, inasmuch as it

included the more ancient kingdom of Quito (corresponding pretty closely

to the modern republic of Ecuador), and extended over parts of the

present Chili and Bolivia. We learn from our ordinary maps that this

whole territory was narrowly confined between the mountains and the sea.

Observe, however, that it was nearly two thousand five hundred miles in

length, four times as long as France, and that its breadth varied from

about two hundred and fifty to about five hundred miles. From West to

East it presents three very different regions. 1. A strip along the

coast where rain hardly ever falls, but where the night dews are very

heavy and the produce of the soil tropical. 2. The _Sierra_ formed by

the first spurs of the Cordilleras, and already high enough above the

level of the sea to produce the vegetation of the temperate regions.

Here maize was cultivated on a large scale, and great herds of vicunias,

alpacas and llamas were pastured. And here we may note a great point of

advantage enjoyed by Peru over Mexico; for the llama, though not very

strong, serves as a beast of burden and traction, its flesh is well

flavoured and its wool most useful. 3. The _Montana_, consisting of a

region even yet imperfectly known, over which extend unmeasured forests,

the home of the jaguar and the chinchilla, of bright-plumed birds and of

dreaded serpents. Above these forests stretch the dizzy peaks and the

volcanos. The most remarkable natural phenomenon of the country is the

lake Titicaca, about seven times as great as the lake of Geneva, not

far distant from the ancient capital Cuzco, and serving, like Anahuac,

the lake district of Mexico, as the chief focus of Peruvian civilization

and religion. The mysterious disappearance beneath the ground of the

river by which it empties itself, stimulated yet further the

myth-forming imagination of the dwellers on its shores.

There is a remarkable difference between the ways in which the two

civilizations of which we are speaking formed and consolidated

themselves in Mexico and Peru respectively. We have seen that in Mexico

the state of things to which the Spanish conquest put an end was the

result of a long series of revolutions and wars, in which successive

peoples had ruled and served in turn; and the Aztecs had finally seized

the hegemony, while adopting a civilization the origins of which must be

sought in Central America. In Peru things had followed a more regular

and stable course. The dynasty of the Incas had maintained itself for

about six centuries as the patron of social progress and of a remarkably

advanced culture. Starting from its native soil on the shores of Lake

Titicaca, and long confined in its authority to Cuzco and its immediate

territory, this family had finally succeeded in indefinitely extending

its dominion between the mountains and the sea, sometimes by successful

wars and sometimes by pacific means; for whole populations had more than

once been moved to range themselves of their own free will under the

sceptre of the Incas, so as to enjoy the advantages assured to their

subjects by their equitable rule. When Pizarro and his companions

disembarked in Peru, the great Inca, Huayna Capac, had but recently

completed the empire by the conquest of the kingdom of Quito.

It has been asked, which was the more marvellous feat, the conquest of

Mexico by Fernando Cortes, or that of Peru by Pizarro. One consideration

weighs heavily in favour of Cortes. It is that he was the first. When

Francisco Pizarro threw himself with his handful of adventurers upon

Peru in 1531, he had before him the example of his brilliant precursor,

to teach him how a few Europeans might impose by sheer audacity on the

amazed and superstitious peoples; and in many respects he simply copied

his model. Like him, he took advantage of the divisions and rivalries

of the natives; like him, he found means of securing the person of the

sovereign, and was thereby enabled to quell the subjects. On the other

hand, he had even fewer followers than Cortes. His company scarcely

numbered over two hundred men at first, and the Peruvian empire was more

compact and more wisely organized than that of Mexico. We shall

presently see the principal cause to which his incredible success must

be ascribed; but the net result seems to be, that one hesitates to

pronounce the feats of either adventurer more astounding than those of

the other, especially when we remember that Pizarro was without the

political genius of Fernando Cortes, and was so profoundly ignorant that

he could not so much as read!

The family of the Incas, whose scourge Pizarro proved to be, must have

numbered many fine politicians in its ranks. Never has what is called a

"dynastic policy" been pursued more methodically and ably. The proofs

assail us at every moment. The Incas were a family of priest-kings, who

reigned, as children of the Sun, over the Peruvian land, and the Sun

himself was the great deity of the country. To obey the Incas was to

obey the supreme god. Their person was the object of a veritable cultus,

and they had succeeded so completely in identifying the interests of

their own family with those of religion, of politics and of

civilization, that it was no longer possible to distinguish them one

from another. And yet it was this very method, so essentially

theocratic, of insisting on the minute regulation of all the actions of

human life in the name of religion, which finally ruined the Incas.

Peru, in the sixteenth century, had become one enormous convent, in

which everything was mechanically regulated, in which no one could take

the smallest initiative, in which everything depended absolutely upon

the will of the reigning Inca; so that the moment Pizarro succeeded in

laying hold of this Inca, this "father Abbe," everything collapsed in a

moment, and nothing was left of the edifice constructed with such

sagacity but a heap of sand. And indeed this is the fatal result of

every theocracy, for it can never really be anything but a _hierocracy_

or rule of priests. On the one hand it must be absolute, for the

sovereign priest rules in the name of God; and on the other hand it is

fatally impelled to concern itself with every minutest affair, to

interfere vexatiously in all private concerns (since they too affect

religious ethics and discipline), and to multiply regulations against

every possible breach of the ruling religion. It is a general lesson of

religious history that is illustrated so forcibly by the fate of the

Inca priest-kings.

I will not weary you in this case, any more than in that of Mexico, with

the enumeration of the authors to whom we must go for information on the

political and religious history of the strange country with which we are

dealing. I must, however, say a few words concerning a certain writer

who long enjoyed the highest of reputations, and was regarded throughout

the last century as the most trustworthy and complete authority in

Peruvian matters. The Peruvians, far as their civilization had advanced

in many respects, were behind even the Mexicans in the art of preserving

the memory of the past; for they had not so much as the imperfect

hieroglyphics known to the latter. They made use of _Quipus_ or

_Quipos_, indeed, which were fringes, the threads of which were

variously knotted according to what they were intended to represent; but

unfortunately the Peruvians anticipated on a large scale what so often

happens on the small scale amongst ourselves to those persons of

uncertain memory who tie knots on their handkerchiefs to remind them of

something important. They find the knot, indeed, but have forgotten what

it means! And so with the Peruvians. They were not always at one as to

the meaning of their ancient Quipos, and there were several ways of

interpreting them. Moreover, after the conquest, the few Peruvians who

might still have made some pretension to a knowledge of them did not

trouble themselves to initiate the Europeans into their filiform

writing. All that is left of it is the practice of the Peruvian women

who preserve this method of registering the sins they intend to record

against themselves in the confessional.[39] Let us hope that they at

least never experience any analogous infirmity to that which besets the

knot-tiers amongst ourselves.[40]

To return to the Peruvian author of whom I intended to speak. He is the

celebrated Garcilasso de la Vega, who published his _Commentarios

reales_ in 1609 and 1617.[41] Garcilasso's father was a European, but

his mother was a Peruvian, and, what is more, a _Palla_, that is to say,

a princess of the family of the Incas. Born in 1540, this Garcilasso had

received from his mother and a maternal uncle a great amount of

information as to the family, the history and the persons of the ancient

sovereigns. He was extremely proud of his origin; so much so, indeed,

that he issued his works under the name of "Garcilasso _el Inca_ de la

Vega," though he had no real title to the name of Inca, which could not

be transmitted by women. A genuine fervour breathes through his accounts

of the history of his Peruvian country and his glorious ancestors, and

it is to him that we owe the knowledge of many facts that would

otherwise have been lost. The interest of his narrative explains the

reputation so long enjoyed by his work, but the more critical spirit of

recent times has discovered that his filial zeal has betrayed him into

lavish embellishments of the situation created by the clever and

cautious policy of his forebears, the Incas. He has passed in silence

over many of their faults, and has attributed more than one merit to

them to which they have no just claim. But in spite of all this, when we

have made allowance for his family weakness, we may consult him with

great advantage as to the institutions and sovereigns of ancient Peru.

We must allow, with Garcilasso, that from the year 1000 A.D. onwards

(for he places the origin of their power at about this date) the Incas

had accomplished a work that may well seem marvellous in many respects.

Had there been any relations between Peru and Central America? Can we

explain the Peruvian civilization as the result of an emigration from

the isthmic region, or an imitation of what had already been realized

there? There is not the smallest trace of any such thing. No doubt it

would be difficult to justify a categorical assertion on a subject so

obscure; but it is certain that when they were discovered, Peru and the

kingdom of Quito were separated from North America by immense regions

plunged in the deepest savagery. Beginning at the Isthmus of Panama,

this savage district stretched over the whole northern portion of South

America, broken only by the demi-civilization of the Muyscas or Chibchas

(New Granada); and the Peruvians knew nothing of the Mexicans. Neither

the one nor the other were navigators, and nothing in the Peruvian

traditions betrays the least connection with Central America. The most

probable supposition is, that an indigenous civilization was

spontaneously developed in Peru by causes analogous to those which had

produced a similar phenomenon in the Maya country. In Peru, as in

Central America, the richness of the soil, the variety of its products,

the abundance of vegetable food, especially maize, secured the first

conditions of civilization. The Peruvian advance was further favoured by

the fact that it was protected towards the East by almost impassable

mountains, and towards the West by the sea, while to the North and South

it might concentrate its defensive forces upon comparatively narrow

spaces.

The whole territory of the empire was divided into three parts. The

first was the property of the Sun, that is to say of the priests who

officiated in his numerous temples; the second belonged to the reigning

Inca; and the third to the people. The people's land was divided out

every year in lots apportioned to the needs of each family, but the

portions assigned to the _Curacas_, or nobles, were of a magnitude

suited to their superior dignity. Taxes were paid in days of labour

devoted to the lands of the Inca and those of the Sun, or in

manufactured articles of various kinds, for the cities contained a

number of artizans. Indeed, it was one of the maxims of the Incas that

no part of the empire, however poor, should be exempt from paying

tribute of one kind or another. To such a length was this carried, that

so grave a historian as Herrera tells us how the Inca Huayna Capac,

wishing to determine what kind of tribute the inhabitants of Pasto were

to pay, and being assured that they were so entirely without resources

or capacity of any kind that they could give him nothing at all, laid on

them the annual tribute of a certain measure of vermine, preferring, as

he said, that they should pay this singular tax rather than nothing.[42]

We cannot congratulate the officials commissioned to collect the

tribute, but we cite this sample in proof of the rigour with which the

Incas carried out the principles which they considered essential to the

government of the country. The special principle we have just

illustrated was founded on the idea that the Sun journeys and shines for

every one, and that accordingly every one should contribute towards the

payment of his services. For the rest, the great herds of llamas, which

constituted a regular branch of the national wealth, could only be owned

by the temples of the Sun and by the Inca. Every province, every town

or village, had the exact nature and the exact quantity of the products

it must furnish assigned, and the Incas possessed great depots in which

were stored provisions, arms and clothes for the army. All this was

regulated, accounted for and checked by means of official Quipos.

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