shore but Pizarro landed with the few horses which he had brought along
in the ship. A sharp engagement ensued, and the result might have been
disastrous to the Spaniards had not one of them fallen from his horse
during the fray. This diversion of what they considered a single
animal into two, both living, alarmed the Indians so much, that they
desisted from the attack and withdrew, the Spaniards taking advantage
of the chance to return to the ships.
What to do next was the problem. They had not {62} sufficient force or
supplies with them to encounter the natives, or conquer or even explore
the country. The expedition was about as meagrely equipped as it well
could be and be an expedition at all. There were long discussions on
the ships and a fierce quarrel between the two partners. Finally, it
was composed outwardly, and it was decided that Pizarro should remain
at the coast at some convenient point while Almagro, the traverser,
went back for reënforcements. Pizarro elected to pitch his camp on the
little Island of Gallo which they had discovered. Those who were
appointed to remain with him rebelled at the decision which left them
marooned on a desolate island with no adequate provisions for their
needs. Pizarro, however, insisted and Almagro sailed with the other
ship. Shortly afterward, Pizarro sent the remaining ship with the most
obstinate of the mutineers to Panama. A letter revealing their sad
plight, which was concealed in a ball of cotton sent as a present to
the wife of the governor by one of the men on the island of Gallo, was
smuggled ashore at Panama when Almagro's ship reached that point,
despite his vigilant efforts to allow no such communications to pass.
There was a new governor in Panama, Pedro de los Rios. Incensed by the
loss of life and the hardships of the two expeditions, with the lack of
definite and tangible results, and disregarding the remonstrances of
Almagro, he dispatched two ships under one Pedro Tafur to bring them
back. Life on the island of Gallo had been a hideous experience.
Famine, disease and inclement weather had taken off many and had broken
the spirit of the most of the rest of the band. Nothing could break
that of Pizarro. When Tafur appeared, he refused to return. Drawing
{63} an east-and-west line upon the sand with his sword, he made a
brief soldierly address to his men.
"Friends and comrades," he said, facing the south, "on that side of the
line are toil, hunger, nakedness, the drenching storm, destruction and
death. On this side," turning to the north, "are ease and pleasure.
There lies Peru with its riches. Here, Panama with its poverty.
Choose each man as best becomes a cavalier of Castile. For my part, I
go to the south."
Such was the effect of his electrifying words, that, as he stepped over
the line, a number of his comrades, led by Ruiz, the pilot, and Pedro
de Candia, a Greek gunner, followed him. The number varies from
thirteen to sixteen according to different authorities. The weight of
evidence inclines me to the smaller number.[3]
Tafur raged and threatened, but Pizarro and his men persisted. They
got themselves transferred to the Island of Gorgona where there were
water and game and no inhabitants, and there they stayed while Tafur
returned.
{64}
Less than a score of men marooned on a desert island in an unknown sea,
opposite a desolate and forbidding coast, without a ship or any means
of leaving the island, not knowing whether Almagro and Luque would be
able to succor them; their position was indeed a desperate one. It
shows, as nothing else could, the iron determination of the indomitable
Spaniard. At that moment when Pizarro drew the line and stepped across
it after that fiery address, he touched at the same time the nadir of
his fortunes and the zenith of his fame. Surely it stands as one of
the great dramatic incidents of history. The conquest of Peru turned
upon that very instant, upon the determination of that moment; and upon
the conquest of Peru depended more things in the future history of the
earth than were dreamed of in the narrow philosophy of any Spaniard
there present, or of any other man in existence in that long-past day.
Peru has played a tremendously important part in the affairs of men.
It was the treasure of Peru that armed the soldiers of Alva and laid
the keels of the Armada. It was the treasure of Peru that relieved the
Spanish people of the necessity of wresting a national revenue out of a
soil by agriculture; which abrogated the auxiliary of agriculture,
manufactures; which precluded the possibility of the corollary of the
other two, commerce. It was the treasure of Peru that permitted the
Spanish people to indulge that passion for religious bigotry which was
stifling to liberty and throttling to development, and which put them
hopelessly out of touch with the onward and progressive movement of
humanity in one of the most vital periods and movements in history. It
was the treasure of Peru that kindled the fires of the Inquisition,
{65} in which the best blood of the nation lighted it to its downfall,
and blazed the way for Manila and Santiago. Philip II, and his
decadent and infamous successors depended upon the mines of Potosi and
the mines of Potosi hung upon Pizarro and his line in the sand. The
base-born, ignorant, cruel soldier wrecked in one moment a nation, made
and unmade empires, and changed the whole course of the world.
It was largely the Spanish zeal and intolerance that developed and made
perfect the Reformation, for no great cause has ever won success
without opposition, nay, persecution. "The blood of the martyr," says
St. Augustine, "is the seed of the church."
To return to the situation. Tafur presently reached Panama and
reported. The governor and the people of that city looked upon Pizarro
as a madman. Luque and Almagro were unwearying in their efforts and
importunities, however, and finally they wrung a reluctant permission
from De los Rios for Ruiz and one small ship and a few men to go to the
rescue, with the proviso that a return must be made within six months.
One can imagine the joy with which the desperate adventurers on the
island saw the sails of that ship whitening the horizon. Once more
they set sail to the south, arriving finally before a large and
populous town called Tumbez. Here they saw undoubted signs of the
existence of a great empire in a high state of civilization. The
little party had some pleasant intercourse with the natives of Tumbez.
They gathered a considerable amount of gold and silver, some of it
exquisitely wrought by cunning artificers into the forms of beautiful
and unknown plants and animals. There was no possible doubt as to {66}
the truth of their golden dreams. The empire of Peru in all its
magnificence lay before them.
Too meagre a force to embrace the opportunity, there was nothing to do
but to return to Panama. There it was agreed that Pizarro, with De
Candia, should go over to Spain, taking with him Peruvians and
treasures, tell what he had seen, and secure the royal countenance and
support for their future undertaking, while Almagro and Luque remained
at Panama preparing for the final expedition. Pizarro had no sooner
set foot in Spain than he was arrested for debt on some ancient charge
by Encisco, but he was too big a man, now, for such petty persecution
and he was at once released and ordered to present himself at court.
The rough, blunt soldier, with his terrible yet romantic tale with its
infinite possibilities, was received with astonishing cordiality. He
gained a royal commission to discover and conquer the empire of Peru
for Spain for the distance of two hundred leagues south of the Santiago
River, and received the title of Governor and Captain-General with
large powers and revenue appertaining, which it was easy for the crown
to bestow since Pizarro had to get them himself.
Almagro, who justly felt himself slighted and his services inadequately
valued, was made Governor of Tumbez; Luque was appointed Bishop for the
same place and Protector of the Peruvians; Ruiz was named Grand Pilot
of the Southern Ocean; De Candia, a General of Artillery; and every one
of the thirteen who had crossed the line at Gallo was ennobled and made
an Hidalgo of Spain.
Then Pizarro went back to Trujillo. Certainly it must have been a
happy moment for the neglected {67} bastard who had been a swineherd to
return to his native village under such enviable conditions. He set
sail for America early in 1530, with three ships. His four brothers
came with him, the able Hernando being made second in command. Almagro
and Luque were very much chagrined at the meagre reward that had fallen
to them, and Almagro looked with deep antagonism upon the advent of the
Pizarros, who, he realized instinctively, would undermine his influence
with his partner. This hatred the new Pizarros repaid in kind. Some
sort of peace, however, was patched up between them, and in January,
1531, with three small ships and one hundred and eighty-three men,
including thirty-seven horses, Francisco set forth on his final voyage
of conquest.
Nearly seven years had elapsed since the first attempt was made. As
yet they had little but empty titles, large powers, purely potential,
however, and drained purses to show for their heroic endeavor, but the
persistence of Pizarro was about to triumph at last. After a voyage of
thirteen days, the squadron arrived at San Mateo, where the horses and
soldiers were landed and ordered to march along the shore southward,
while the ships were sent back for reënforcements which Almagro was
gathering as usual. They returned with thirty more men and thirty-six
additional horses. Arriving at the Gulf of Guayaquil, Pizarro
established himself on the island of Puna, opposite Tumbez, which he
cleared of its inhabitants by a series of desperate battles. There he
was reënforced by a detachment of one hundred men with an additional
number of horses under the command of young Hernando de Soto, another
gallant Estremaduran, and quite the most attractive among this band of
desperadoes, whose {68} design was to loot an empire and proclaim the
Holy Gospel of Christ as the Spanish people had received the same. I
have no doubt at all that the desire to propagate their religion was
quite as real and as vividly present to them at all times as was their
greed for gold. They had a zeal for God, but not according to
knowledge; like the men of the Middle Ages who bore the cross on their
hauberks, every Spaniard was a crusader. Aside from De Soto, there is
no single character of all those, either Indian or Spaniard, who for
fifteen years made Peru a bloody battle-ground, except the unfortunate
young Inca Manco Capac, who is entitled to the least admiration or
affection.
In April, 1532, Pizarro embarked his men on the ships and landed, not
without some fierce fighting, at Tumbez, on the coast of Peru. At last
the expedition was on solid ground and nothing prevented its further
advance. On the 18th of May, therefore, they took up the march for the
interior, little dreaming of the ultimate fate that awaited them all.
III. "A Communistic Despotism."
The empire of Peru well deserved the title of Magnificent. The highest
civilization attained on the Western Hemisphere had been reached on
this South American coast. A form of government unique in history had
been developed and put in operation by a capable and enlightened
people. It was a "communistic despotism," a community with a despot
and a ruling class superimposed upon its socialism. The sway of these
despots was exceedingly mild and gentle, even if absolute. With
wonderful ingenuity and a rare capacity for organization, upon the {69}
ruins of an older civilization, they built the Inca Empire.
The Incas were the ruling tribe, the Emperor being the Inca par
excellence. Their empire was as thoroughly organized as it is possible
for a community to be. Indeed, it was organized to death; the Inca was
the empire, and one source of the empire's speedy downfall was due to
the fact that the national spirit of the Peruvians had been so crushed
by the theocratic despotism of their rulers that they viewed the change
of masters with more or less indifference. When the Incas conquered a
country and people they so arranged affairs as to incorporate the
people as part of the empire. They called their domains
grandiloquently "the four quarters of the earth." They did not govern
this great territory by brute force as did the Aztecs--although they
knew how to use the sword if necessary--but by methods dictated by
prudent and profound policy, productive of peaceful success. The mild
government of the Incas was at once patriarchal, theocratic and
despotic. Whatever it was, from the Incas' point of view it was
absolute and satisfactory.
Prescott's account of the Inca civilization reads like a romance, yet
it is practically borne out by all chroniclers who have discussed the
subject, some of whom appear to desire to find the great American
historian at fault. Large and populous cities existed, communication
between which was had by great national roads traversing every part of
the land. Vast herds of llamas were domesticated, from the hair of
which the exquisitely woven cloth was made. Agriculture flourished.
The country, upraised from the sea by the great range of mountains,
afforded every variety of {70} climate from temperate to tropic, and
the diversified products of the soil corresponded with the
opportunities presented. And every foot of space was utilized for a
population of millions of industrious workers, with an economy and
resourcefulness only emulated by the Chinese in the working of their
country. Even the mountain-sides were terraced by tiny farms.
The Peruvians had made some progress in the arts, less in science.
They lacked the art of writing, although they possessed a highly
developed system of mnemonic aids in the form of curiously knotted and
particolored strings called quipus. Their literature, if the
contradiction be permitted, was handed down like their history, by oral
tradition.
Great as had been their achievements, however, they were in a curious
state of arrested development. With the Peruvians, says Helps,
"everything stopped short." They had not arrived at a finality
anywhere, save perhaps in their mode of government. They could erect
enormous time-defying buildings, but they knew of no way to roof them
except by thatching them. Their roads were marvels of engineering
construction, but they could not build bridges except frail ones made
out of osier cables. No wheels ran along the smooth, well-paved,
magnificent highways. They could refine gold and silver and make
weapons of tempered copper, but they were entirely ignorant of the use
of iron. The greatest human development has depended upon that last
metal. The great nations are those which have had the steel-tempered
sword blades in their hands. They could administer a colony in a way
to excite the admiration of the world, and yet not write a line. There
is little probability that they would have progressed much beyond the
state at which {71} they had arrived, _for there was no individual
liberty in the land_. That was the fatal defect in their system. It
was the lack which put that touch of finality to their otherwise
marvelously developed condition and which limited inexorably their
civilization. The unchangeable conditions were stifling to ambition
and paralyzing to achievement. The two things the country lacked were
the two vital things to human progress and human success--letters and
liberty.
The religious development of the Peruvians was very high. They
worshipped an unknown Supreme Being and they worshipped him, it is
conclusively demonstrated, without human sacrifice. Objectively they
paid their chief adoration to the sun, moon and stars, and to the Inca
as the child or earthly representative of the sun. Sun-worship is the
noblest and highest of all the purely natural religions. When to this
was superadded an instinctive feeling for a great First Cause, of which
the solar magnificence was but a manifestation, the religion of the
Peruvians is entitled to great respect.
Their history ran back into the mists of the past. At the time of the
arrival of Pizarro, a curious condition, anomalous in their records,
had arisen. Huayna Capac, one of the greatest monarchs of the Inca
line, had extended his dominion by force of arms over the rich province
of Quito, far to the north. He had taken as one of his concubines the
daughter of the conquered monarch of Quito and by her had a son named
Atahualpa.[4]
The son of the monarch by his sister, his only legal {72} wife, or
Coya--the irrevocable Peruvian method of providing for the Inca
succession--was named Huascar. Huayna on his deathbed, after a
glorious reign of forty years, made the fatal mistake of dividing his
dominion between Huascar, to whom was given ancient Peru, and
Atahualpa, who took Quito to the north. World-history, of which Huayna
could have known nothing, has shown conclusively enough that such a
policy has always brought about civil war, and this startling reversal
of Peruvian custom by a doting monarch on his deathbed produced the
usual results.
The armies of Atahualpa, led by two famous soldiers called Quiz-Quiz
and Chalcuchima, had met and defeated the troops of Huascar in a series
of bloody battles. They had taken that unhappy monarch prisoner and,
by a series of terrible massacres instigated by Atahualpa, had striven
with large success to cut off the family of the unfortunate Inca root
and branches. The land had been devastated by the fierceness of the
internecine conflict, towns had been carried by storm, the inhabitants
put to the sword; the ordinary course of events had been interrupted
and agriculture had languished; the empire lay gasping under the paw of
the Peruvian usurper when Pizarro landed upon the shore. The strife
that was to ensue was between two base-born, cruel-hearted soldiers of
fortune, one at the head of a little body of white men, but with all
the prestige of their color and development in warfare, and weapons,
the other, the now undisputed monarch of a vast if prostrate and
exhausted empire, at the head of great armies flushed with victory and
eager for new conquests.
What would the result of the struggle be?
{73}
IV. The Treacherous and Bloody Massacre of Caxamarca.
Having marched some thirty miles south of Tumbezin the pleasant spring
weather, Pizarro, finding what he conceived to be a favorable location
for a permanent colony, encamped his army, laid out and began to build
a city, which he called San Miguel. The Spaniards were great builders
and the city was planned and fortified on an extensive scale and the
more important buildings erected, so that it was not until September
that Pizarro considered his base of supplies had been made secure.
Meanwhile he had been assiduously seeking information on every hand
concerning the internal dissensions in the Peruvian empire, so that he
could undertake his conquest intelligently. On the 24th of September,
1532, the valiant little army was mustered and, after deducting a small
garrison for San Miguel, those appointed for the expedition were found
to include sixty-seven horsemen, three arquebusiers, twenty crossbowmen
and eighty-seven footmen, in all one hundred and seventy-seven.[5]
They were accompanied by two pieces of small artillery called
falconets, each having a bore of two inches and carrying a shot
weighing about a pound and a half, being, with the three arquebusiers,
General De Candia's command. With this insignificant force, augmented,
I suppose, by some Indian captives acting as pack-mules, Pizarro
started out to conquer an empire conservatively estimated to contain
from ten to twelve millions of people, supporting an army of
disciplined {74} soldiers whose numbers ran into the hundreds of
thousands.
The Spanish forces were well equipped and in good condition, but as
they left the sea-shore and advanced, without molestation, to be sure,
through the populous country, some idea of the magnitude of their
self-appointed task permeated the minds of the common soldiery, and
evidences of hesitation, reluctance and dissension speedily appeared.
The unwillingness of the men grew until Pizarro was forced to take
notice of it. Halting on the fifth day in a pleasant valley, he met
the emergency in his usual characteristic fashion. Parading the men,
he addressed to them another of those fiery speeches for which he was
famous, and the quality of which, from so illiterate a man, is
amazingly high.
He painted anew the dangers before them, and then adroitly lightened
the shadows of his picture by pointing to the rewards. He appealed to
all that was best in humanity by saying that he wanted none but the
bravest to go forward.[6]
He closed his address by offering to allow all who wished to do so to
return to San Miguel, whose feeble garrison, he said, he should be glad
to have reënforced. And, with a subtler stroke of policy, he promised
that those who went back should share in the rewards gained by their
more constant brethren. But four infantrymen and five horsemen
shamefacedly availed themselves of this permission. The rest
enthusiastically clamored to be led forward. Both mutiny and timidity
were silenced forever in that band.
{75}
On a similar occasion, Cortes had burnt his ships. It is hard to
decide which was the better expedient. Certainly Cortes was
incomparably a much abler man than Pizarro, but somehow Pizarro managed
to rise to the successive emergencies which confronted him, just the
same.
Greatly refreshed in spirits, the army, purged of the malcontents,
proceeded cautiously on its way south. They were much elated from time
to time at receiving envoys from Atahualpa, who coupled a superstitious
reverence for the invaders as Children of the Sun with demands as to
their purposes, and a request that they halt and wait the pleasure of
the Inca. Pizarro dissembled his intentions and received them with
fair words, but refusing to halt, kept steadily on, announcing his
intention of visiting Atahualpa wherever he might be found.
Pursuing their journey, the Spaniards came early in November to the
foot of the mountains. To the right of them, that is toward the south,
extended a great well-paved road which led to the imperial capital of
Cuzco. In front of them, a narrow path rose over the mountains. One
was easy, the other hard. In spite of suggestions from his soldiery,
Pizarro chose the hard way. He had announced his intention of visiting
the Inca, and visit him he would although the way to the city of Cuzco
was open and the place might easily be taken possession of. The seat
of danger and the source of power were alike with the Inca, and not in
Cuzco.
With sixty foot and forty horse, this old man, now past sixty years,
led the way over the mountains, while his brother brought up the rear
with the remainder. The passage was a terrible one, but the
indomitable {76} band, catching some of the spirit of their leader,
surmounted all the obstacles, and a few days after from the summits of
a mighty range, surveyed the fertile, beautiful plains spread out
before them on the farther side of the mountain. Close at hand was the
white-walled city, Caxamarca or Cajamarca, embowered in verdure in a
fruitful valley. The place was an important position, well fortified
and containing, under ordinary circumstances, a population of ten
thousand. The reader should remember the name, for it was the scene of
one of the most remarkable and determinative events in history. The
conquest, in fact, was settled there.
Beyond the city, on the slopes of the hills, and divided from it by a
river, over which a causeway led, stood the white tents of the fifty
thousand soldiers of Atahualpa's army. The number of them filled the
Spaniards with amazement, and in some cases with apprehension. There
was no going back then, however; there was nothing to do but advance.
At the hour when the bells of Holy Church in their home land were
ringing vespers, in a cold driving rain mingled with sleet, the little
cortège entered the city, which they found as the French found Moscow,
deserted of its inhabitants. With the ready instinct of a soldier,
Pizarro led his force to the public square, or Plaza, which was in the
shape of a rude triangle surrounded on two sides by well-built,
two-story houses of stone. On the other side, or base, rose a huge
fortress with a tower overlooking the city on one hand and the Inca's
camp on the other.
Without hesitation, the weary Spaniards made themselves at home in the
vacant buildings around the square; guards were posted in order that
the strictest {77} watch might be kept, and other preparations made for
defence. Here they prepared for the repose of the night. Meanwhile
Hernando de Soto with twenty horse was sent as an ambassador to
Atahualpa's camp. He had been gone but a short time when Pizarro, at
the suggestion of his brother Hernando, who made the point that twenty
horsemen were not sufficient for defense and too many to lose,
despatched the latter with twenty more cavalrymen to reënforce the
first party.
The two cavaliers and their escort found the Inca in the midst of his
camp. The monarch was seated and surrounded by a brilliant assemblage
of nobles in magnificent vestments. He was guarded by a great army of
soldiers armed with war-clubs, swords and spears of tempered copper,
and bows and slings. He received the deputation with the impassivity
of a stone image, vouchsafing no answer to their respectful address
until it had been several times repeated. At last he declared he would
visit the strangers on the morrow, and directed them to occupy the
buildings in the public square, and none other until he came to make
arrangements. His demeanor was cold and forbidding to the last degree.
The results of the embassy were highly unsatisfactory. One incident
connected with the interview is worthy of mention.
De Soto, who was a most accomplished cavalier, a perfect centaur in
fact, noticing the amazed and somewhat alarmed glances of the Inca's
men at the movements of his restless horse, suddenly determined to
exhibit his skill at the manège. Striking spurs to his charger, he
caused him to curvet and prance in the open before the Inca, showing at
the same time {78} his own horsemanship and the fiery impetuosity of
the high-spirited animal. He concluded this performance--shall I say
circus?--by dashing at full speed toward the Inca, reining in his steed
with the utmost dexterity a few feet from the royal person. What the
Inca thought of this has not been recorded. I imagine he must have
been terribly affronted. Some of his nobles and soldiers, less able to
preserve their iron composure than their master, shrank back from the
onrushing avalanche of steed and steel presented by De Soto and his
horse. The Spaniards found their dead bodies the next day. It did not
do to show cowardice in the presence of the Inca! They had been
summarily executed by Atahualpa's order. Yet, I cannot think the Inca
a man of surpassing bravery after all. Certainly he was not a man of
sufficient ability worthily to hold the scepter of so great an empire.
He made a frightful mistake in not stopping the invaders where it would
have been easy for him to do so, in the narrow defiles of the
mountains, and he did not even yet seem to have decided in his own mind
how he should treat them. To be sure, according to some accounts, he
looked upon them as belonging to the immortal gods, but there have been
men brave enough in the defence of land and liberty to defy even the
immortal gods! A vast deal of sympathy, indeed, has been wasted upon
Atahualpa. Without doubt the Spaniards treated him abominably, and for
that treatment the wretched monarch has claims to our consideration,
but for his personal qualities or his past record, none. Helps
explains his name as derived from two words meaning, "sweet valor!"
Markham affirms that the words mean "A chance, or lucky, game-cock!"
Neither appellation, in view of {79} Atahualpa's history can be
considered as especially apt or happy.
Much dissatisfied and thoroughly perturbed, De Soto and Hernando
Pizarro returned to the city. Long and serious were the deliberations
of the leaders that night. At length they arrived at a momentous
decision, one for which they have been severely and justly censured,
but which under the circumstances was the only possible decision which
insured their safety. They had no business in that country. They had
come there with the deliberate intention of looting it without regard
to the rights of the inhabitants, and in that purpose lay the seeds of
all their subsequent crimes, treachery, murder, outrage and all other
abominations whatsoever. No surprise need be felt therefore, that they
determined upon the seizure of the person of the Inca. The example of
Cortes with Montezuma was before them. I have no doubt that his
amazing exploits in Mexico had been talked over frequently by every
camp-fire in the New and the Old World, and many bold spirits had
longed for an opportunity to emulate his doings. The Spaniards in Peru
had already learned enough of the local conditions to realize that with
the person of the Inca they could control the government. To seize him
was black treachery, of course; but being there, it was the only thing
to do, from their point of view. The night was an anxious one and the
morning found them engaged in preparations. De Candia was posted with
two small falconets and three arquebusiers on the roof of the fortress.
His guns pointed toward the Inca's camp, though he had instructions to
turn them on the square as soon as the Peruvians arrived. De Soto and
Hernando Pizarro divided the horse {80} between them and occupied the
houses on the other side of the square with them. The infantry were
distributed at various points of vantage. Pizarro reserved twenty of
the trustiest blades for his own escort. The arms of the men were
carefully looked to, and nothing that the skill or experience of the
captains could suggest was left undone to promote the success of their
hazardous and bold undertaking.
Mass was said with great solemnity by the priest of the expedition, Fra
Vincente de Valverde, an iron-souled, fierce-hearted Dominican, meet
ecclesiastic for such a band. Refreshments were then provided
liberally for the soldiers--it is not so stated, but it may be presumed
that some of them were in liquid shape--and then the whole party
settled down to await developments. Nothing seemed to be going on in
the Peruvian camp during the morning. The Inca moved toward the city
in the afternoon, but stopped just outside the walls, to the great
annoyance of the Spaniards, who had found the long wait a trying
experience indeed. Late in the afternoon, Pizarro received a message
that Atahualpa had changed his mind and would not visit him until the
following day. This did not suit his plans at all. He instantly
returned an answer to the Inca, begging him not to defer his visit,
saying that he had provided everything for his entertainment--which was
quite true although in a very different sense from that conveyed by the
words of his messenger--and requesting Atahualpa to arrange to sup with
him without fail that night. Pizarro had previously assured the Inca
that he would receive him as a "friend and brother"! What reasons
actuated the Inca we have no means of ascertaining. Suffice it to say
that he changed his mind and came.
{81}
A short time after sunset, therefore, the Inca, attended by a numerous
retinue, entered the square. Atahualpa was borne aloft on a throne
made of massive gold, supported on the shoulders of his attendants. He
was dressed with barbaric magnificence in robes of exquisite texture,
heavily embroidered and ornamented with gold and silver. Around his
neck blazed a necklace of emeralds of wonderful size and great
brilliancy. His forehead was hidden by a thick vivid scarlet fringe
depending from a diadem almost to the eyebrows. This tassel (or
_borla_, as the Spaniards called it; _llauta_, according to the
Peruvians) was the supreme mark of the imperial dignity in that no one
but the Inca could wear it. The Inca was surrounded by a gorgeously
attired body of retainers who were preceded by hundreds of menials who
cleared the streets of every obstacle which might impede the progress
of their master, the Son of the Sun. The processions divided at the
square, and the monarch was carried forward in the open. Not a
Spaniard save the watchful sentries pacing the fort above, was to be
seen.
"Where," asked Atahualpa, looking about in surprise, "are the
strangers?"
At this moment, at the request of Pizarro, Father Valverde came forward
in his canonicals, crucifix in one hand, breviary or Bible in the
other.[7] He was attended by one of the Peruvians whom Pizarro had
taken back to Spain, who was to act as interpreter. This precocious
little rascal, named Felippo, was the best interpreter that could be
found, which is saying little, for his Spanish was bad and mainly
picked up in the camps from the rude soldiery, and his Peruvian {82}
was only an uncouth dialect of the highly inflected and most flexible
and expressive Quichua, the language of the educated, indeed of the
most of the people. Approaching the litter of the Inca, Valverde
delivered an extraordinary address. He briefly explained the doctrines
of the Christian religion to the astonished Peruvian, requiring him to
conform to this religion and acknowledge the spiritual supremacy of the
Pope, and at the same time to submit to the sway of his Imperial
Majesty Charles V. It was a pretty heavy demand to spring upon a great
monarch in the midst of his people, and it was not to be wondered at
that Atahualpa rejected these requests with contempt.
The Inca answered the friar not without shrewdness. He had gathered
the idea from Felippo's vile mistranslation that the Christians
worshipped four Gods, i. e. the Trinity and the Pope. He declared that
he himself worshipped one, and there was its sign and symbol--pointing
to the declining sun; that he believed one God was better than four.
He rejected indignantly the idea that he, "The Lord of the Four
Quarters of the Earth," owed allegiance to any Charles V. or any other
earthly monarch, of whom he had never heard and who had assuredly never
heard of him either.
Valverde had referred to the book in his hand as he had spoken and
Atahualpa now asked to see it. The volume was a clasped one and he
found it difficult to open. Valverde, probably thinking he could show
him to unclasp the volume, stepped nearer to him. The Inca repulsed
him with disdain. Wrenching open the covers he glanced rapidly at the
book, and perhaps suddenly realizing the full sense of the insult which
had been offered to him in the demands {83} of the dogmatic and
domineering Dominican, he threw the sacred volume to the ground in a
violent rage.
"Tell your companions," he said, "that they shall give me an account of
their doings in my land. I will not go hence until they have made me
full satisfaction for all the wrongs they have committed!"
Then he turned and spoke to his people--the last word he was ever to
address them as a free monarch from his throne. There was a loud
murmur from the crowd.
Thereupon, according to some accounts, Valverde picked up the book
through which Atahualpa had offered such a deadly insult to his
religion and rushed back to Pizarro, exclaiming, "Do you not see that
while we stand here wasting our breath in talking with this dog, full
of pride as he is, the fields are filling with Indians? Set on at
once! I absolve you for whatever you do!" I would fain do no man an
injustice. Therefore, I also set down what other authorities say,
namely, that Valverde simply told Pizarro what had occurred.
There is no dispute, however, as to what happened immediately. Pizarro
stepped out from the doorway, and drawing a white scarf from his
shoulders, threw it into the air. Instantly a shot roared from the
fort above his head. The famous war-cry of the Spaniards, "St. Jago,
and at them!" rang over every quarter of the square into which, with
bared swords, couched lances and drawn bows, poured the mail-clad
soldiery horse and foot.
They burst upon the astonished ranks of the unarmed Indians with the
suddenness and swiftness of a tornado. From the roof above, the
gunners discharged their bullets into the swaying, seething mass. With
{84} their wands of office, with their naked hands, with whatever they
could seize, the Peruvians defended themselves. They rallied around
the person of the Inca, freely offering their breasts to the Spanish
blades with the vain attempt to protect their monarch.
Atahualpa sat upon his reeling throne gazing upon the bloody scene in a
daze of surprise. Pizarro and the twenty chosen cut their way to the
litter and, striking down the helpless bearers thereof, precipitated
the Inca to the ground. The Spaniards were mad with carnage now, and
were striking indiscriminately at any Indian. Then could be heard
Pizarro's stern voice ringing above the melée, "Let no man who values
his life strike at the Inca!" Such was the fierceness of his soldiery,
however, that in his frenzied attempt to protect the monarch, Pizarro
was wounded in one of his hands by his own men. As the Inca fell, he
had been caught by Pizarro and supported, although a soldier named
Estete snatched the imperial _llauta_ from his head as he fell.
With the capture of the Inca, what little futile resistance the unarmed
host had been able to make ceased. The Indians, relentlessly pursued
by their bloody conquerors, fled in every direction, and, to anticipate
events, the army deprived of its monarch and its generals, dispersed
the next day without striking a blow. Indeed the army was helpless for
offence while the Spaniards held the Inca as a hostage.
The estimates of the numbers slain in one half-hour's fighting in the
square of Caxamarca vary from two to ten thousand. Whatever the
number, it was great and horrible enough. An unparalleled act of
treachery had been consummated, and Peru, in the space of thirty
minutes had been conquered and Pizarro held {85} it in the hollow of
his hand. Not a Spaniard had been wounded except Pizarro himself, and
his wound had been received from his own men while he tried to protect
Atahualpa from the Spaniards' fury.
V. The Ransom and Murder of the Inca
Pizarro treated the Inca well enough, although he held him in rigorous
captivity. Nobody else in Peru seemed to know what to do under the
circumstances, and the Spaniards soon lost all apprehension of
resistance. Quiz-Quiz and Chalcuchima still held Huascar a captive at
Xuaca, a fortress between Caxamarca and Cuzco. Atahualpa, realizing
how important such a man would be to the Spaniards, sent orders that he
be put to death and the unfortunate deposed Inca was therefore executed
by the two generals. Although he was captive, Atahualpa's orders were
as implicitly obeyed as if he had been free. He was still the Inca, if
only by the right of sword, and the forces of his generals were
sufficiently great to render it impossible for the son of Huascar,
named Manco Capac, who had escaped the massacre of his kinfolk and who
was the legitimate heir to the throne, to claim the crown.
Pizarro, with a fine show of rectitude, affected to be horrified by
this evidence of brutal cruelty, and although Atahualpa claimed no
connection with the assassination of Huascar, it was impossible to
acquit him of it. Greatly desiring his freedom, Atahualpa, who had
observed the Spanish greed for gold, made an extraordinary proposition
to Pizarro. They were together in a room twenty-two feet long by
seventeen feet broad. Standing on his tiptoes and reaching as high as
he could, probably about eight feet, for he was a tall man, {86}
Atahualpa offered to fill the room with gold to the height he had
touched, if, when he had completed his undertaking, Pizarro would
release him.
Pizarro jumped at the offer, and well he might for no such proposition
had ever before been offered in the history of the world. The cubic
contents enclosed by the figures mentioned are three thousand three
hundred and sixty-six feet, or in round numbers, one hundred and
twenty-five cubic yards. Such a treasure was even beyond the most
delirious dreams of the conquerors.[8]
As soon as these astonishing terms had been formally accepted in
writing by Pizarro, the Inca sent orders to all parts of his dominion
for the people to bring in their treasures. He also directed the royal
palaces and temples to be stripped, and his orders were obeyed. He had
stipulated that he be allowed two months in which to raise the ransom
and day after day a stream of Indians poured into the city loaded with
treasure which dazzled the eyes of the astonished and delighted
conquerors. Atahualpa had stipulated also that the gold was not to be
smelted--that is, he would not be required to fill the spaces solidly
with ingots, but that it should be put into the room just as it was
brought in and allowed to take up as much space as was required, even
though it might be in the shape of a manufactured article.
[Illustration: "They Burst Upon the Ranks of the Unarmed Indians."]
{87}
Some of the gold was in the shape of ingenious plants and animals, one
especially beautiful object being the corn plant with blades of gold
and tassels of silver. Pizarro, to his credit, ordered that some of
these specimens of exquisite workmanship should be preserved intact.
Much of the treasure was in the shape of plates or tiles, from the
interior of the temples or palaces which did not take up much space.
The great temple of the Sun at Cuzco had a heavy outside cornice, or
moulding, of pure gold. It was stripped of this dazzling ornament to
satisfy the rapacity of the conquerors. There was also a vast quantity
of silver which was stored in other chambers. Silver hardly counted in
view of the deluge of the more precious metal.
[Illustration: "The Three Pizarros . . . Sallied Out to Meet Them"]
Atahualpa did not quite succeed in filling the space, but he came so
near it that Pizarro, in a formal agreement executed before a notary,
declared that the Inca had paid his ransom and that he was released
from any further obligation concerning it. That is the only release,
however, which the unfortunate Inca ever got. Obviously, it was
dangerous to turn loose such a man. Therefore, in spite of his legal
quittance, he still was held in captivity. The Spaniards concluded
finally that the only safe course was to get rid of him.
The ransom amounted in our money to over seventeen million dollars,
according to Prescott; to nearly eighteen million dollars, according to
Markham. Pizarro's personal share was seven hundred thousand dollars;
Hernando received three hundred and fifty thousand dollars; De Soto two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Each horse soldier received nearly
one hundred thousand; the principal foot soldiers, fifty thousand, and
the others smaller sums in accordance {88} with their rank and service.
The precious metals were so plentiful that for the time being they lost
their value, for men cheerfully paid thousands of dollars for a horse.
Indeed so bulky and unwieldly was the treasure with which the soldiers
were loaded, that it is solemnly averred that creditors avoided their
debtors fearing lest the latter should pay them what they owed in
further heaps of the bulky treasure; and it is certainly a fact that
even the animals shared in the opulence of the conquest, for the horses
were shod with silver. Silver was cheaper and easier to get than iron.
While they were revelling in the treasure, dividing the spoils and
deliberating what was to be done with Atahualpa, Almagro arrived with
his reënforcements. Naturally he and his men demanded a share of the
booty. Great was their disgust and furious their anger when Pizarro
and the other conquerors refused to give it up. Finally, the quarrels
that ensued were composed by presenting Almagro and his followers
certain sums, large in themselves though trifling in comparison with
what Pizarro's men had received. Almagro's men were also given to
understand that they could move on to the southwest at some convenient
season and conquer another empire and take all they could for
themselves. Unfortunately for them, there were no more empires like
Peru on this or any other side of the world left them to conquer.
Hernando Pizarro was then dispatched to Spain to deliver the royal
fifth to Charles, to give an account of the fortunes of the conquerors
and to secure what further rewards and privileges he could for them.
Atahualpa saw him leave with the greatest regret. He was a man of
fierce, stern, implacable disposition, {89} not a lovely character,
according to any of the chroniclers, but he seems to have been fairer,
and in his own way he had treated the unfortunate monarch better, than
any of the others, unless it was De Soto. Possibly Hernando might have
restrained his brother from the last infamy he was about to perpetrate
if he had been there. Certainly De Soto would have sought to dissuade
him. Pizarro realized this and got rid of De Soto by sending him away
to investigate as to the truth of rumors that Atahualpa was conspiring
to obtain his freedom. I have no doubt that he was so conspiring. I
hope so, for if he was, it was about the only manly thing that he did.
While De Soto was away, at the instigation of the soldiers, Pizarro
with seeming reluctance, allowed Atahualpa to be brought to trial. I
have no doubt that Pizarro instigated the soldiers himself. He was
adroit enough to do it, and he would have no scruples whatever to deter
him.
The Inca was tried on twelve charges, among which were included
accusations that he had usurped the crown, and given its prerogatives
to his friends (instead of to the Spaniards!). He was charged with
being an idolator, an adulterer and a polygamist, and finally it was
urged that he had endeavored to incite an insurrection against the
Spaniards. Such accusations came with a peculiarly bad grace from the
conquerors. The whole thing, charges and all, would have been a farce
had it not been for the certain grim and terrible outcome.
Felippo, the Infamous, was the only interpreter. He had made love to
one of the Inca's wives, whom the Spaniards had allowed to share his
captivity. Atahualpa, furiously affronted, desired to have him {90}
put to death, but Felippo was too important to the Spaniards, and he
was spared. How Atahualpa's defense suffered from Felippo's
interpretations under such circumstances may easily be imagined. In
spite of the courageous opposition of a few of the self-appointed
judges, the Inca was convicted and sentenced to death, Father Valverde
concurring, in writing, with the sentence.
When the verdict of the court was communicated to Atahualpa, he did not
receive it with any remarkable degree of fortitude. He is a pitiful
rather than a heroic figure.
"What have I done," he cried, weeping, "what have my children done,
that I should meet with such a fate?" Turning to Pizarro, he added,
"And from your hands, too, who have met with friendship and kindness
from my people, to whom I have given my treasure, who have received
nothing but benefit from my hands!"
He besought the conqueror to spare his life, promising anything, even
to double the enormous ransom he had already paid, and offering to
guarantee in any appointed way the safety of every Spaniard in the
army. Pedro Pizarro, a cousin of the conqueror, who has left an
account of the interview, says that Pizarro was greatly affected by the
touching appeal of the unfortunate monarch, and that he wept in turn
also. However that may be, he refused to interfere. A man may weep
and weep, to paraphrase Shakespeare, "and be a villain!" There was no
help for it; Atahualpa had to die.
It was on the 29th of August, 1533. The trial and deliberations had
occupied the whole day. It was two hours after sunset before they were
ready to execute him in the great square of Caxamarca. {91} The
Spanish soldiers, fully armed, arranged themselves about a huge stake
which had been planted in the square. Back of them were groups of
terrified, awe-struck Peruvians, helplessly weeping and lamenting the
fate of their monarch which they were powerless to prevent. Flickering
torches held by the troops cast an uncertain light over the tragic
scene. Atahualpa was led forth in fetters and chained to the stake.
He showed little of the firmness and fortitude of a proud monarch or a
brave man. How feebly he appears when contrasted with the great Aztec
Guatemotzin, calmly enduring the tortures of the red-hot gridiron and
resolutely refusing to gratify either his captors' lust for treasure or
desire for revenge by vouchsafing them a single fact or a single moan.
By Inca's side was Valverde, who had been assiduous in his endeavors to
make him a Christian. The friar was ready to offer such grim
consolation as he could to the wretched Peruvian in whose death
sentence he had concurred. Atahualpa had hitherto turned a deaf ear to
all his importunities, but at the last moment Valverde told him that if
he would consent to receive baptism, he should be strangled instead of
burnt to death. Atahualpa asked Pizarro if this was true, and being
assured that it was, he abjured his religion to avoid the agonies of
fire, and was thereupon baptised under the name of Juan de Atahualpa.
The name John was given to him because this baptism _in extremis_ took
place on St. John the Baptist's day. Rarely, if ever, has there been a
more ghastly profanation of the Holy Sacrament of Regeneration!
Before he was garroted, Atahualpa begged that his remains might be
preserved at Quito with those of his mother's people. Then he turned
to Pizarro and {92} made a final request of that iron-hearted man, that
he would look after and care for the Inca's little children. While he
was strangled and his body was being burnt, the terrible soldiery could
be heard muttering the magnificent words of the Apostolic Creed for the
redemption of the soul of the monarch. Incidentally it may be noted
that a little later the Spaniards burnt old Chalcuchima, of whom they
had got possession by treacherous promises, at the stake. He did not
embrace Christianity at the last moment, but died as he had lived, a
soldier and a Peruvian.
The character of Atahualpa may be learned from his career. He was a
cruel, ruthless usurper, neither magnanimous in victory nor resolute in
defeat. As I have said, it is impossible to admire him, but no one can
think of his fate and the treacheries of which he was a victim without
being touched by his miseries. If he sowed the wind he reaped the
whirlwind, and bad as he was, his conquerors were worse.
Pizarro placed the diadem on Toparca, a youthful brother of the late
Inca. When he was alone with his attendants, the boy tore the _llauta_
from his forehead, and trampled it under his foot, as no longer the
badge of anything but infamy and shame, and in two short months he
pined and died from the consciousness of his disgrace. Whereupon
another Peruvian, Manco Capac, the legitimate heir of Huascar, appeared
before Pizarro, made good his claim, and on the entry of the conquerors
into Cuzco, was crowned Inca with all the ancient ceremonies. He soon
realized that he was but a puppet in Pizarro's hands, however, and by
and by he, too, made a bold stroke for freedom.
The conquest of Peru was complete. Charles V., dazzled by the report
of Hernando Pizarro, and the {93} substantial treasures placed before
him, created Pizarro a Marquis of the country, confirmed him in the
government of the country for two hundred and seventy leagues south of
the Santiago River and gave Almagro authority to conquer everything
beyond that limit. Almagro was very much dissatisfied with his share,
but concluded, before he made any violent objections, to go to the
south and find an El Dorado for himself.
Meanwhile Pizarro, who was almost as much of a builder as Rameses the
Great, laid out the city of Lima and the Spaniards flocked into Peru
from Spain in thousands. The natives were enslaved and the country
divided into great estates, and Almagro and his discontented started
for Chili. Hernando Pizarro, who was appointed governor of Cuzco, held
young Manco in close confinement, and everything outwardly was as fine
and lovely as a summer day. There was growing, however, a tremendous
uprising in which hitherto somnolent Fate was about to lay her belated
hands upon nearly all the actors of the great drama which had
heretofore been so successfully played.
VI. The Inca and the Peruvians Strike Vainly for Freedom
The city of Cuzco was, without doubt, the most superb capital on the
American continent. Indeed, in many respects, it would have compared
favorably with, let us say, Paris in the sixteenth century, with its
narrow, crooked, unpaved filthy streets, its indifferent protections,
and its utterly inadequate water and sewer system. The streets, which
were broad and level, crossed each other at regular intervals at right
angles. They were smoothly paved with large, carefully joined {94}
flagstones. The houses in the city were mainly built of stone. The
palace of the Inca, which stood alone in the great square, was of
marble. The temples and buildings for public assemblages, armories,
granaries, storehouses, _et cetera_, were of great size. The stones
used in their erection were of such dimensions that the Spanish
marvelled at the engineering genius which could have quarried them and
put them in place, just as the people of to-day are amazed at Baalbec
and the pyramids. Stone conduits ran down each street, bringing
delicious water to each doorway, and the city was traversed by two
mountain streams crossed by bridges cut by watergates. That the cold,
clear water might be kept pure and sweet, the beds of the rivers like
those of the Euphrates at Babylon, had been paved.
The city was surrounded by walls and dominated by a great fortress
called Sacsahuaman, which stood upon a steep and rocky hill overlooking
the capital. On the side toward the city the fortress was practically
impregnable on account of the precipitous slopes of the cliffs. The
other side was defended by three stone walls laid out in zigzag shape,
with salient and reëntrant angles (demi-lunes), like an old-fashioned
rail fence, with many doors, each closed by stone portcullis, in each
wall. Within the walls was a citadel of three tall towers. The whole
constituted a most formidable position.
While Francisco Pizarro was founding and laying out on a magnificent
scale and with lavish generosity the city of Lima, near the seaboard,
Hernando was made governor of Cuzco. Hernando was, without doubt, the
most able and most admirable of the Pizarros, although his fame has
been obscured by that of his {95} elder brother. He had been directed
by Charles V to treat the Inca and the people with kindness, and,
perhaps on that account, he had not exercised so rigorous a
surveillance over the movements of young Manco as his ordinary prudence
would have dictated. At any rate, the bold and youthful emperor found
no difficulty in leaving his ancient capital. He repaired immediately
to the Valley of Yucay, in the high mountains of the northeastward of
Cuzco. There had been brewing a vast conspiracy against the Spaniards
for some time, and at the summons of the Inca, thither resorted the
great chiefs of the Peruvians with their retainers and dependents,
including their women and children.
The partisans of the two Inca half-brothers, who had not been slain,
made common cause with each other. All internal differences were
forgotten in the presence of the common enemy. They had much to
revenge. Their treasures had been taken, their temples polluted, their
religion profaned, their monarchs slain, their women outraged and the
people forced into a degrading, exhausting slavery. Strange is it to
recognize that human slavery was introduced into Peru by the Christians!
It is good to think that the manhood of the Peruvians was awakened at
last. Manco, burning with fiery patriotic zeal, summoned his great
vassals and subjects to his standard. "Death to the Spaniards!" were
the watchwords that resounded with fierce war-cries among the mountains
and hills. With ancient ceremonies, drinking from a common cup, they
pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to their
hereditary chief in defense of their altars and their fires, their
native land.
{96}
Early in 1536 a vast army swept down through the mountain passes and
made toward the ancient capital. The three Pizarros, Hernando, Juan
and Gonzalo, put themselves at the head of their horsemen and sallied
out to meet them. They killed numbers of Peruvians, but all their
valor could not check the resistless force of the patriotic army. The
Spaniards were swept back into the city, glad to escape with their
lives before such overwhelming numbers; indeed, only a timely attack by
a detachment in the rear of the Peruvians saved them from destruction
then and there. Cuzco was at once invested. The Indians, with a
heroism which cannot be too greatly commended, endeavored to carry the
place by assault.[9]
They set fire to the thatched roofs of their own houses, devoting their
city to flames, like the Russians at Moscow, to compass the
annihilation of the detested invaders. The wind favored them, and a
besom of flame swept over the devoted town until over one-half of it
was laid in ruins. There were ninety Spanish horse in the city,
probably as many foot, and a thousand Indian auxiliaries, but they were
soldiers of the highest quality and led by three captains whose like
for daring and skill are not often seen.
No one ever questioned the courage or the military ability of the
Pizarros and certainly they exhibited both qualities in full measure
during the siege. Of all the brothers, it is probable that Hernando
was the most daring cavalier as well as the most capable captain,
although in personal prowess his younger brothers were not a whit
behind him. Indeed, Gonzalo was {97} reckoned as the best lance in the
New World. Stifled by the smoke, scorched by the flames, parched with
heat, choked with thirst, exhausted with hunger, crazed from loss of
sleep, yet battling with the energy of despair against overwhelming
numbers of Indians, who, with a reckless disregard for life, hurled
themselves upon the sword-points, the Spaniards after several days of
the most terrific fighting, were forced into the square, which they
held against their enemy by dint of the most heroic and continuous
endeavors.
The Peruvians barricaded the streets with the debris of their ruined
houses and sharpened stakes, and prepared to press home for a final
attack. Although the slaughter among the Indians had been fearful, the
odds against the Spaniards did not appear diminished, for it was
learned afterward that there were more than one hundred thousand
warriors engaged, and, with a host of followers and servants, the total
aggregated at least eighty thousand more. And, indeed, the Spaniards
mourned the death of many a brave cavalier and stout man-at-arms. In
all the fighting the young Inca, in full war-gear of gold and silver,
mounted on a captured horse, with a Spanish lance in his hand, had
played a hero's dauntless part.
At the commencement of the siege there had been a discussion as to
whether they should occupy the great fortress of Sacsahuaman, or not.
Juan Pizarro had dissuaded the Spanish from the attempt, for, he said:
"Our forces are too weak to hold both places. The city is the most
important, and should it happen that we need the fortress we can take
it any time." Without opposition the Indian High Priest had occupied
it with a large body of men.
It was evident, at last, that the Spaniards would {98} either have to
retreat from their town or seize the fortress, which, now that they had
been driven from the walls, commanded their position in the square.
Most of the cavaliers were for retreat. There is no doubt that the
horse could certainly have cut their way through the ranks of the
besiegers, and have escaped, together with most of the foot as well.
Hernando was quite as persistent as his indomitable brother Francisco,
however, and he talked equally as well to the soldiers. He made them a
stirring address which he closed by declaring that he had been sent
there to hold the town, and hold it he would if he had to hold it
alone; that he would rather die there in the square with the
consciousness that he had kept his trust than abandon the place. Juan
and Gonzalo seconded his stirring appeal. It was resolved that the
fortress should be taken. Hernando proposed to lead the assault in
person, but Juan interposed with the remark that he had objected to its
seizure in the first instance, and to him rightfully belonged the
leadership of the forlorn hope to repair the error. Hernando consented.
Juan and Gonzalo, with their commands and fifty of their best horse,
were detailed for the purpose. By Hernando's instructions they cut
through the Indians and galloped headlong down the road in the
direction of Lima. The Indians were deceived by the seeming dash of
the horsemen through the lines and, supposing them to be in retreat,
turned their attention to the Spaniards left in the square. The
conflict which had been intermitted for a space began again with the
utmost fury.
In the midst of it, Juan Pizarro, who had galloped about a league from
the town and then made a long {99} detour, suddenly appeared at
Sacsahuaman. The Spaniards immediately rushed to the assault. This
diversion caused the Indians, who had been literally forcing the
Spaniards in the town up against the wall, and in the last ditch, as it
were, to give ground. Thereupon the dauntless Hernando charged upon
them, drove them out of the square, and succeeded in establishing
communications with Juan and Gonzalo on the hill. He directed Juan to
hold his position and make no attack, but Juan thought he saw an
opportunity to gain the fortress, and at vespers the Spaniards rushed
at the walls.
There were Indians not only within but without the walls, and the
fighting was soon of the most sanguinary description. Juan Pizarro had
been wounded previously in a skirmish and on account of this wound was
unable to wear his morion. Hernando had especially cautioned him to be
careful on this account; but the impetuous valor of the Pizarros was
not to be restrained by considerations of any personal safety, and Juan
was in the front rank of the storming party. They had cut their way
through to the fort and were battling for entrance when a stone hurled
from the tower struck Juan in the head, knocking him senseless. The
wound was of such a character that two weeks afterward he died of it in
great agony. He was the first to pay the penalty. History has
preserved little concerning him, but some chroniclers have found him
the highest-minded of the brothers--possibly because less is known
about him! At any rate, he was a valiant soldier.
Gonzalo succeeded to the leadership, and although he and his men fought
heroically, they were at last forced back from the fortress in spite of
the fact that {100} they had gained the outer walls. The fighting had
transferred itself from the city to the hills, which was a sad tactical
error on the part of the Peruvians, for they had force enough to
overwhelm Hernando and his men in the city, while they held Juan and
Gonzalo in play at Sacsahuaman, in which case all the Spaniards would
eventually have fallen into their hands.
As night fell Hernando left the city and came up to the hill. The
Spaniards busied themselves in making scaling-ladders, and in the
morning, with the aid of the ladders, the assault was resumed with
desperate fury. Wall after wall was carried, and finally the fighting
ranged around the citadel. The Inca had sent five thousand of his best
men to reënforce the defenders, but the Spaniards succeeded in
preventing their entrance to the fort which was now in a sorry plight.
The ammunition--arrows, spears, stone, _et cetera_--of the garrison was
almost spent. The Spanish attack was pressed as rigorously as at the
beginning. The High Priest--priests have ever been among the first to
incite people to war, and among the first to abandon the field of
battle--fled with a great majority of his followers, and escaped by
subterranean passages from the citadel, leaving but a few defenders to
do or die.
First among them was a chief, whose name, unfortunately, has not been
preserved. He was one of those, however, who had drunk of the cup and
pledged himself in the mountains of Yucay. Driven from wall to wall
and from tower to tower, he and his followers made a heroic defense.
The Spanish chroniclers say that when this hero, whose exploits recall
the half-mythical legends of the early Roman Republic, when men were as
demi-gods, saw one of his men falter, he {101} stabbed him and threw
his body upon the Spaniards. At last he stood alone upon the last
tower. The assailants offered him quarter, which he disdained.
Shouting his war-cry of defiance, he dashed his sole remaining weapon
in the faces of the escaladers and then hurled himself bodily upon them
to die on their sword-points. Let him be remembered as a soldier, a
patriot, and a gentleman.
The fortress was gained! Dismayed by the fearful loss that they had
sustained, the Peruvians, who had fought so valiantly, if so
unsuccessfully, withdrew temporarily. Hernando Pizarro was master of
the situation. He employed the few days of respite given him in
gathering supplies and strengthening his position. It was well that he
did so, for in a short time the Peruvians once more appeared around the
city, to which they laid a regular siege.
There was more sharp fighting, but nothing like the Homeric combats of
the first investment. The Peruvians had risen all over the land.
Detached parties of Spaniards had been cut off without mercy.
Francisco Pizarro was besieged in Lima. Messengers and ships were
despatched in every direction, craving assistance. Francisco did not
know what had happened in Cuzco, and the brothers in that city began to
despair of their being extricated from their terrible predicament.
Help came to them from an unexpected source.
We left Almagro marching toward Chili. His was no lovely promenade
through a pleasant, smiling, fertile, wealthy land. He traversed vast
deserts under burning skies. He climbed lofty mountains in freezing
cold and found nothing. In despair, he turned back to Peru. The
limits assigned to Pizarro were {102} not clear. Almagro claimed that
the city of Cuzco was within his province, and determined to return and
take it. On the way his little army, under the command of a very able
soldier named Orgonez, met and defeated a large army of Peruvians.
This, taken with the arrival of the harvest time, which must of
necessity be gathered if the people were not to starve, caused the
subsequent dissipation of the Peruvian army. The Inca maintained a
fugitive court in the impregnable and secret fastnesses of the
mountains, but the Peruvians never gave any more trouble to the
Spaniards. They had spent themselves in this one fierce but futile
blow. I am glad for the sake of their manhood that at least they had
fought one great battle for their lands and liberties.
[Illustration: "He Threw His Sole Remaining Weapon in the Faces of the
Escaladers"]
VII. "The Men of Chili" and the Civil Wars
Almagro, assisted by treachery on the part of some of the Spaniards who
hated the Pizarros, made himself master of the city, and, breaking his
plighted word, seized Hernando and Gonzalo.
Meanwhile Francisco, the Marquis, had despatched a certain captain
named Alvarado with a force to relieve Cuzco. Almagro marched out with
his army and defeated the superior force of Alvarado in the battle of
Abancay, in July, 1537, in which, through the generalship of Orgonez,
Alvarado's troops were captured with little or no loss in Almagro's
army. Almagro had left Gonzalo Pizarro behind in Cuzco, but had taken
Hernando, heavily guarded, with him. Orgonez had urged Almagro to put
both of them to death. "Dead men," he pithily remarked, "need no
guards." On the principle of "In for a penny, in for a pound," {103}
Almagro was already deep enough in the bad graces of Francisco Pizarro,
and he might as well be in deeper than he was, especially as the
execution of Hernando would remove his worst enemy. But Almagro does
not appear to have been an especially cruel man. He was an easy-going,
careless, jovial, pleasure-loving soldier, and he spared the lives of
the two brothers. Gonzalo escaped, and assembling a force, immediately
took the field.
[Illustration: Fernando Cortes. From a Picture in the Florence Gallery]
There had been a meeting between Francisco and Almagro. The latter got
an inkling that there was treachery intended, and though the meeting
had begun with embraces and tears, it was broken off abruptly and both
the ancient partners prepared for an appeal to arms. Almagro had
released Hernando on his promise to return immediately to Spain. This
promise Hernando broke. Francisco made his brother commander of the
army, and the forces of the two commanders met on the plains of Salinas
on the 6th of April, 1538.
There were about seven hundred on one side, Pizarro's, and five hundred
on the other, equally divided between horse and foot, with a few pieces
of artillery in both armies. The men of Chili, as Almagro's forces
were called, hated their former comrades, and Pizarro's men returned
this feeling with such animosities as are engendered nowhere save in
civil war. Victory finally attended Hernando Pizarro. He had fought
in the ranks like a common soldier, save that he had been at great
pains so to distinguish himself by his apparel that every one could
know him, so that all who sought him could find him. Orgonez was slain
as he lay on the ground, wounded. Such was the close, fierce fighting
that the killed alone numbered nearly {104} two hundred, besides a
proportionately greater number wounded.
Almagro had watched the battle from an adjacent hill. He was old and
ill, broken down from excesses and dissipations. Unable to sit a
horse, he had been carried thither on a litter. The sight of his
routed army admonished him to try to escape. With great pain and
difficulty he got upon a horse, but being pursued, the animal stumbled
and Almagro fell to the ground. Some of Pizarro's men were about to
dispatch him when Hernando interfered. He was taken prisoner to Cuzco
and held in captivity for a while. Hernando had announced his
intention of sending him to Spain for trial, but a conspiracy to effect
his release, in which was our old friend De Candia, caused a change in
his purposes. Almagro was tried on charges which were easily trumped
up, was found guilty, of course, and in spite of his protestations and
piteous appeals for life, he was strangled to death at night in his
prison on the 8th of July, 1538, in the sixty-fifth year of his life.
His head was then struck from his shoulders and both were exhibited in
the great square at Cuzco. Vainglorious, ignorant, incompetent, yet
cheerful, generous, frank, kindly and open-hearted, and badly treated
by Pizarro and his brothers, he possibly deserved a better fate.
The Pizarro brothers affected to be overcome by the stern necessity
which compelled poor Almagro's execution. As Francisco had done when
he had killed Atahualpa, these two put on mourning and insisted upon
being pall-bearers, and exhibited every outward manifestation of deep
and abiding grief.
Almagro left a son, Diego, by an Indian woman, to whom he had not been
married. This young man {105} was under the guardianship of Pizarro at
Lima. The sword of Damocles hung over his head for a while, but he was
spared eventually and, the rebellion of Almagro having been cut down,
the revolt of the Inca crushed, peace appeared once more to dwell in
the land.
VIII. The Mean End of the Great Conquistador
But fate had not finished with the Pizarros as yet. Hernando was sent
back to Spain to explain the situation, and Gonzalo despatched to
Quito, of which province he was made governor. He had instructions to
explore the country eastward to see if he could find another Peru. He
made a marvelous march to the head-waters of the Amazon River, where he
was deserted by one of his commanders, Orellana, who built a
brigantine, sailed down the whole length of the Amazon, finally
reaching Europe, while Gonzalo and those few of his wretched followers
who survived the terrible hardships of that march, struggled back to
Quito.
Francisco, the Marquis, was thus left alone in Peru. The position of
the men of Chili was precarious. Although outwardly things were
peaceful, yet they felt that at any time Pizarro might institute war
against them. They got the young Almagro away from him, and a score of
men under Juan de Rada, a stout-hearted veteran, mercenary soldier,
determined to put the Marquis to death and proclaim the young Almagro
as Lord and Dictator of Peru.
On Sunday afternoon, the 26th of June, 1541, De Rada and nineteen
desperate men of Chili, met at De Rada's house in Lima. Pizarro had
received a number of warnings which he had neglected, confident {106}
in the security of his position, but the existence of the conspiracy
had been brought home to him with peculiar force that Sunday, and he
had remained in his palace at Lima surrounded by a number of gentlemen
devoted to his cause. At vespers--which seems to have been a favorite
hour for nefarious deeds among the Spaniards--the assassins sallied
forth from the home of De Rada and started for the palace.
Such was the indifference in which the people held the squabbles
between the Pizarrists and the Almagrists, that it was casually
remarked by many of them, as the assassins proceeded through the
streets, that they were probably on their way to kill the governor.
The governor was at supper on the second floor of his palace. There
was a sudden tumult in the square below. The door was forced open and
the Almagrists, shouting "Death to Pizarro!" rushed for the stairs.
Most of the noble company with the old Marquis fled. The great
conquistador at least had no thought of flight. There remained with
him, however, two pages, his brother Martin de Alcántara, Francisco de
Chaves, one of the immortal thirteen of Gallo, and another cavalier,
named De Luna.
As they heard the clash of arms on the stairs and the shouting of the
assailants, the Marquis ordered De Chaves to close the door; then he
sprang to the wall, tore from it his corselet and endeavored to buckle
it on his person. De Chaves unwisely attempted to parley, instead of
closing the door and barring it. The assailants forced the entrance,
cut down De Chaves, and burst into the room. Pizarro gave over the
attempt to fasten his breastplate, and seizing a sword and spear,
defended himself stoutly while pealing his war-cry: "Santiago!" through
the palace. The two pages, {107} fighting valiantly, were soon cut
down. De Alcántara and De Luna were also killed, and finally, Pizarro,
an old man over seventy years of age, stood alone before the murderers.
Such was the wonderful address of the sword play with which he defended
himself that the conspirators were at a loss how to take him, until De
Rada, ruthlessly seizing one of his comrades, pitilessly thrust him
upon Pizarro's sword-point, and, before the old man could withdraw the
weapon, cut him in the throat with his sword. Instantly Pizarro was
struck by a dozen blades. He fell back upon the floor, but he was not
yet dead, and with his own blood he marked a cross on the stones. It
is alleged by some that he asked for a confessor, but that is hardly
likely, for as he bent his head to press his lips upon the cross, one
of the murderers, seizing a huge stone bowl, or earthen vessel, threw
it upon his head and killed him. _Sic transit Pizarro_!
If he has been the subject of much severe censure, he has not lacked,
especially of late, zealous defenders. I have endeavored to treat him
fairly in these sketches. Considering him in comparison with his
contemporaries, Cortes surpassed him in ability, Hernando in executive
capacity, Almagro in generosity, Balboa in gallantry, and De Soto in
courtesy. On the other hand, he was inferior to none of them in
bravery and resolution, and he made up for his lack of other qualities
by a terrible and unexampled persistency. Nothing could swerve him
from his determination. He had a faculty of rising to each successive
crisis which confronted him, wresting victory from the most adverse
circumstances in a way worthy of the highest admiration. He was not so
cruel as Pedrarias, but he was {108} ruthless enough and his fame is
forever stained by atrocities and treacheries from which no personal or
public success can redeem it. In passing judgment upon him, account
must be taken of the humble circumstances of his early life, his lack
of decent, healthy environment, his neglected youth, his total
ignorance of polite learning. Take him all in all, in some things he
was better and in other things no worse than his day and generation.
IX. The Last of the Brethren
Hernando Pizarro was delayed on his voyage to Spain and some of
Almagro's partisans got the ear of the King before he arrived. He was
charged with having permitted by his carelessness the Peruvian uprising
and having unlawfully taken the life of Almagro. The story of his
desperate defense of Cusco was unavailing to mitigate the anger of the
King at the anarchy and confusion--and incidentally the diminution of
the royal revenue--which prevailed in Peru. Hernando was thrown into
prison at Medina, and kept there for twenty-three long and weary years.
He had married his own niece, Francisca Pizarro, illegitimate daughter
of the Marquis Francisco, by a daughter of the great Inca, Huayna
Capac. The woman was a half-sister of Atahualpa and Huascar. By this
questionable means, the family of the Pizarros, with certain dignities,
restored for their Peruvian service, was perpetuated in Spain.
Hernando died at the age of one hundred and four.
De Rada, after the assassination of Francisco, assembled the ancient
partisans of Almagro. They swore fealty to the young Almagro, and
immediately {109} took the field against a new governor sent out by
Charles V. to take charge of affairs in Peru. This Vaca de Castro,
through his able lieutenants, Alvarado and Carvajal, defeated the
forces of Almagro on the bloody and desperately fought field of Chapus,
took the young man prisoner to Cuzco, and beheaded him forthwith. He
met his death bravely, without beseeching or repining. Before the fate
of the battle was decided, Almagro, suspecting that the gunner, De
Candia, another of the thirteen who had adhered to his cause, was not
serving his artillery with so good effect as he might, ran him through
the body.
There remains but one of the brothers who gave Peru to Spain, the
magnificent cavalier, Gonzalo. His fate may be briefly summarized.
Another Viceroy, named Blasco Nuñez Vela, succeeded De Castro. He had
orders to release the Peruvians from servitude, which meant that the
conquerors and the thousands who had come after, would have been
compelled to work. Led by Gonzalo, who had been rewarded for his
services in the rebellion against Almagro by a domain in Peru which
included the newly discovered mines of Potosi, which provided him with
the sinews of war, the people rebelled against the Viceroy. Pizarro
and his lieutenant, Carvajal, deposed and defeated the Viceroy in a
battle near Quito on the 18th of January, 1546, the latter losing his
life.
Gonzalo Pizarro was now the supreme lord of Peru, which included
practically the whole of the South American coast from the Isthmus of
Darien to the Straits of Magellan, for Valdivia, one of Francisco
Pizarro's lieutenants, had partially conquered Chili at last.
The Spanish monarch, three thousand miles away, {110} could do nothing
by force. He sent an able and devoted ecclesiastic, Gasca by name,
clothing him with dictatorial powers, to see what he could do. Gasca
arrived at Panama, cunningly and tactfully won the captains of
Gonzalo's navy to his side, went to Peru, assembled a force, and
although Centeno, one of his lieutenants, was badly defeated by Gonzalo
and Carvajal on the 26th of October, 1547, at Huarina, the bloodiest
battle ever fought in Peru, finally gained strength enough to march to
Cuzco, where Gonzalo had command of a large and splendidly equipped
army. Gasca, by promising that the obnoxious laws concerning the
Indians should be repealed, and adroitly pointing out that those who
adhered to Gonzalo were, in effect, in rebellion against their
sovereign, had so undermined the allegiance of his men that Gonzalo,
who had marched to the Valley of Xaquixaguana, found himself deserted
on the eve of the battle by all but a handful of faithful retainers.
"What shall we do?" asked one of the devoted followers.
"Fall on them and die like Romans."
"I believe I should prefer to die like a Christian," said Gonzalo
calmly.
Recognizing that it was all up with him, riding forward with Carvajal
and the rest, he coolly surrendered himself to Gasca.
Carvajal was hung, drawn and quartered.
Gonzalo, the last of the brothers, was beheaded in the great square at
Cuzco. He was magnificently arrayed as he rode to his death. His vast
estates, including the mines of Potosi, had been confiscated and all
his possessions were on his back. He met his fate with the courage of
the family. Before he {111} died he made a little address from the
scaffold. Contrasting his present poverty with his former state, he
asked those who had been his friends and who owed him anything, and
also those who had been his enemies, to lay out some of the treasure
they had gained through his family and himself in masses for the repose
of his soul. Then he knelt down before a table bearing a crucifix, and
prayed silently. At last he turned to the executioner and said:
"Do your duty with a steady hand!"
So he made a rather dramatic and picturesque exit there in the square
at Cuzco, on that sunny morning in April, 1548. His head was exhibited
at Lima with that of Carvajal. To it was attached this inscription:
"This is the head of the traitor, Gonzalo Pizarro, who rebelled in Peru
against his sovereign and battled against the royal standard at the
Valley of Xaquixaguana."
There remains but one other person whose fate excites a passing
interest, unless it be Bishop Valverde, who was killed, while on a
journey, by the Peruvians, some years before; this is the last Inca,
Manco Capac. When De Rada and his band started out to assassinate
Pizarro, one of the soldiers, named Gomez Perez, made a detour as they
crossed the square, to keep from getting his feet wet in a puddle of
muddy water which had overflowed from one of the conduits.
"You shrink," cried De Rada, in contempt, "from wetting your feet, who
are about to wade in the blood of the governor! Go back, we will have
none of you."
He had not permitted Perez to take part in the assassination. This
Perez, after the final defeat of the Almagrists, fled to the mountains
where Manco still exercised a fugitive sway over such of his people
{112} as could escape the Spaniards. He was afterward pardoned and
used as a medium of communication between Gasca and the Inca. The
priest viceroy was anxious to be at peace with the Inca, but Manco
refused to trust himself to the Spaniards.
Perez and he were playing bowls one day in the mountains. Perez either
cheated, or in some way incensed the unfortunate Inca, who peremptorily
reproved him, whereupon the Spaniard, in a fit of passion, hurled his
heavy stone bowl at the last of the Incas, and killed him. That was
the end of Perez, also, for the attendants of the young Inca stabbed
him to death.
Thus all those who had borne a prominent part in the great adventures
had gone to receive such certain reward as they merited; which reward
was not counted out to them in the form of gold and silver, or stones
of price. The sway in the new land of the king over the sea was
absolute at last, and there was peace, such as it was, in Peru.
[1] "What is this, Francisco Pizarro?" Balboa asked, in great
astonishment, of his former lieutenant and comrade, meeting him and his
soldiers on the way with the order of arrest. "You were not wont to
come out in this fashion to receive me!"
[2] Magellan had crossed it from the south five years before.
[3] Prescott, to whose remarkable accuracy, considering the time in
which he wrote, the authorities at his command, and the disabilities
under which he labored, I am glad to testify, in view of the prevalent
opinion that his books are literature and not history, says thirteen;
Helps says fifteen, while Markham and Fiske say sixteen. Kirk verifies
Prescott's conclusion with a good argument. One thing there is to
which no one but Prescott seems to have called attention or explained.
Everybody says Ruiz, the old pilot, was the first to follow Pizarro
across the line. If so, he must have stepped back again, probably at
Pizarro's request, for six months later we find him leaving Panama in
charge of the ship which took Pizarro and his devoted subordinates off
the Island of Gorgona. Ruiz could only have reached Panama in Tafur's
ship. Certain it is that only thirteen men were ennobled for their
heroic constancy on the Island of Gallo, as we shall see later. The
three names added to Prescott's list are put there on the authority of
Garcilasso de la Vega, the son of a Spanish cavalier and an Inca
princess. Two of the three men he mentions he claims told him
personally that they had been of the heroic band which had refused to
abandon Pizarro. Such claims made by men who may really believe them
to be true after the event, are not rare in history.
Whatever the exact number, there were but a handful. The rest,
choosing Panama, remained on the north side of the line, and I have no
doubt regretted their decision for the rest of their lives.
[4] Generally speaking, the Peruvians were monogamous, except in case
of the Inca, who had as many wives as he wished, and who sometimes
rewarded exceptional services by allowing some favored adherent an
extra wife.
[5] The exact number varies with different authorities, none of whom,
however, makes the total greater than two hundred.
[6] Napoleon at Toulon succeeded in getting volunteers to man a
particularly dangerous artillery outpost swept by the guns of the
enemy, by the simple expedient of denominating the position as the
"Battery of the Fearless," or the "Battery of those who are not
afraid." Even better than Pizarro, this great Corsican soldier of
fortune knew how to handle his men.
[7] Authorities differ as to which it was. The matter is not material,
anyway.
[8] The ransom of King John II. of France, taken prisoner by the Black
Prince, was three million golden crowns. The value of the ancient ecu
de la couronne varied between $1.50 and $1.30, so that the ransom of
John was between four and one-half and seven million dollars.
Estimating the purchasing power of money in John's time at two and
one-half times that of the present, we arrive at a ransom of between
eleven and eighteen million dollars. If we split the difference and
call the ransom fourteen and a half millions, we still find that the
Christian monarch was slightly undervalued as compared with his heathen
fellow in misery. However, all this is profitless, because the ransom
of John was never paid.
[9] Query: Does the reader not wish that the Peruvians had succeeded?
Indeed, how can the reader help wishing that? Yet would it have been
better for the world if the Peruvians had succeeded in expelling the
Spaniards, or would it have been worse? These questions afford matter
for interesting speculation.
{115}
IV
The Greatest Adventure in History
I. The Chief of all the Soldiers of Fortune
At the close of the fifteenth century, to be exact, in the year 1500,
in the town of Painala, in the Province of Coatzacualco, one of the
feudatory divisions of the great Aztec empire of Mexico, there was born
a young girl who was destined to exercise upon the fortunes of her
country an influence as great as it was baleful, as wonderful as it was
unfortunate. She was the daughter of the Cacique of Tenepal, who was
Lord of the town and province, a feoff of the Mexican Emperor Montezuma
Xocoyotzin. This was the second Montezuma who had occupied the
imperial throne and his last name means "The Younger," which he adopted
to distinguish him from his predecessor in the empire.
This Lord of Painala, whose name has been forgotten, unfortunately for
his country departed this life soon after the birth of his daughter,
who was called Malinal because she was born on the twelfth day of the
month, her name indicating that fact. His property naturally devolved
upon the young daughter. Her mother assumed the office of guardian and
regent of the state. This lady, whose name has also been lost in
oblivion, did not long remain single. After her second marriage, which
apparently took place with a somewhat indecent hurry, there was born to
{116} her and her new consort, a young son. To secure to this son the
inheritance, she sold her little daughter, too young to realize the
unfortunate transaction, to some traders of Xicalango, who in turn
disposed of her to a coast tribe of Aztecs called the Tabascans. She
lived in bondage with the Tabascans until she was nineteen years old.
She developed into a woman of rare beauty and unusual intellect.
Something of the power of high birth was evidently hers, for she
escaped the degrading servitude of the time, and was carefully trained
and prepared for some higher purpose. This girl was to be the
instrument of the downfall of her native land.
Now it happened that when Malinal was nineteen years old, the rumor of
a strange visitation ran up and down the shore among the people who
dwelt upon the great Gulf of Mexico. Some remarkable beings, the like
of whom had never been seen or heard of within the memory of living
man, in some remarkable boats which absolutely transcended the
imagination of the Aztecs, had been seen upon the coast and some of
them had landed at different points. Also there had sifted from the
south, from the Isthmus of Darien and the Panama States, some account
of these white-skinned demi-gods. Just enough rumor was current to
cause alarm and uneasiness in the Aztec Empire when the attention of
the rulers was called to some definite facts.
On Good Friday, March 23, 1519, the dreaded and expected happened, for
there landed at what is now the city of Vera Cruz, in the territory of
the Tabascans, vassals of Montezuma, a party of these strange
adventurers. They were led by a man of mature years, whose name was
Fernando Cortes--sometimes written {117} Hernando Cortes. Like
Pizarro, whose history has been related, he was from the forgotten
province of Estremadura. He was born in the year 1485, in the city of
Medellin. He was seven years old when Columbus set sail upon that
epoch-making voyage of discovery and he was thirty-four when he set
foot for the first time on the shores of Mexico. In the intervening
years much interesting and valuable experience had been enjoyed.