Indignation Of The Governor--Stern Resolution Of Pizarro-
Prosecution Of The Voyage--Brilliant Aspect Of Tumbez-
Discoveries Along The Coast--Return To Panama-
Pizarro Embarks For Spain
1527--1528
Not long after Almagro's departure, Pizarro sent off the remaining vessel,
under the pretext of its being put in repair at Panama. It probably
relieved him of a part of his followers, whose mutinous spirit made them
an obstacle rather than a help in his forlorn condition, and with whom he
was the more willing to part from the difficulty of finding subsistence on
the barren spot which he now occupied.
Great was the dismay occasioned by the return of Almagro and his
followers, in the little community of Panama; for the letter,
surreptitiously conveyed in the ball of cotton, fell into the hands for
which it was intended, and the contents soon got abroad with usual
quantity of exaggeration. The haggard and dejected mien of the
adventurers, of itself, told a tale sufficiently disheartening, and it was
soon generally believed that the few ill-fated survivors of the expedition
were detained against their will by Pizarro, to end their days with their
disappointed leader on his desolate island.
Pedro de los Rios, the governor, was so much incensed at the result of
the expedition, and the waste of life it had occasioned to the colony, that
he turned a deaf ear to all the applications of Luque and Almagro for
further countenance in the affair; he derided their sanguine anticipations
of the future, and finally resolved to send an officer to the isle of Gallo,
with orders to bring back every Spaniard whom he should find still living
in that dreary abode. Two vessels were immediately despatched for the
purpose, and placed under charge of a cavalier named Tafur, a native of
Cordova.
Meanwhile Pizarro and his followers were experiencing all the miseries
which might have been expected from the character of the barren spot on
which they were imprisoned. They were, indeed, relieved from all
apprehensions of the natives, since these had quitted the island on its
occupation by the white men; but they had to endure the pains of hunger
even in a greater degree than they had formerly experienced in the wild
woods of the neighboring continent. Their principal food was crabs and
such shell-fish as they could scantily pick up along the shores. Incessant
storms of thunder and lightning, for it was the rainy season, swept over
the devoted island, and drenched them with a perpetual flood. Thus,
halfnaked, and pining with famine, there were few in that little company
who did not feel the spirit of enterprise quenched within them, or who
looked for any happier termination of their difficulties than that afforded
by a return to Panama. The appearance of Tafur, therefore, with his two
vessels, well stored with provisions, was greeted with all the rapture that
the crew of a sinking wreck might feel on the arrival of some unexpected
succour; and the only thought, after satisfying the immediate cravings of
hunger, was to embark and leave the detested isle forever.
But by the same vessel letters came to Pizarro from his two confederates,
Luque and Almagro, beseeching him not to despair in his present
extremity, but to hold fast to his original purpose. To return under the
present circumstances would be to seal the fate of the expedition; and
they solemnly engaged, if he would remain firm at his post, to furnish
him in a short time with the necessary means for going forward.1
A ray of hope was enough for the courageous spirit of Pizarro. It does
not appear that he himself had entertained, at any time, thoughts of
returning. If he had, these words of encouragement entirely banished
them from his bosom, and he prepared to stand the fortune of the cast on
which he had so desperately ventured. He knew, however, that
solicitations or remonstrances would avail little with the companions of
his enterprise; and he probably did not care to win over the more timid
spirits who, by perpetually looking back, would only be a clog on his
future movements. He announced his own purpose, however, in a
laconic but decided manner, characteristic of a man more accustomed to
act than to talk, and well calculated to make an impression on his rough
followers.
Drawing his sword, he traced a line with it on the sand from east to west.
Then turning towards the south, "Friend and comrades!" he said, "on that
side are toil, hunger, nakedness, the drenching storm, desertion, and
death; on this side, ease and pleasure. There lies Peru with its riches;
here, Panama, and its poverty. Choose, each man, what best becomes a
brave Castilian. For my part, I go to the south." So saying, he stepped
across the line.2 He was followed by the brave pilot Ruiz; next by Pedro
de Candia, a cavalier, born, as his name imports, in one of the isles of
Greece. Eleven others successively crossed the line, thus intimating their
willingness to abide the fortunes of their leader, for good or for evil.3
Fame, to quote the enthusiastic language of an ancient chronicler, has
commemorated the names of this little band, "who thus, in the face or
difficulties unexampled in history, with death rather than riches for their
reward, preferred it all to abandoning their honor, and stood firm by their
leader as an example of loyalty to future ages." 4
But the act excited no such admiration in the mind of Tafur, who looked
on it as one of gross disobedience to the commands of the governor, and
as little better than madness, involving the certain destruction of the
parties engaged in it. He refused to give any sanction to it himself by
leaving one of his vessels with the adventurers to prosecute their voyage,
and it was with great difficulty that he could be persuaded even to allow
them a part of the stores which he had brought for their support. This
had no influence on their determination, and the little party, bidding
adieu to their returning comrades, remained unshaken in their purpose of
abiding the fortunes of their commander.5
There is something striking to the imagination in the spectacle of these
few brave spirits, thus consecrating themselves to a daring enterprise,
which seemed as far above their strength as any recorded in the fabulous
annals of knight-errantry. A handful of men, without food, without
clothing, almost without arms, without knowledge of the land to which
they were bound, without vessel to transport them, were here left on a
lonely rock in the ocean with the avowed purpose of carrying on a
crusade against a powerful empire, staking their lives on its success.
What is there in the legends of chivalry that surpasses it? This was the
crisis of Pizarro's fate. There are moments in the lives of men, which, as
they are seized or neglected, decide their future destiny.6 Had Pizarro
faltered from his strong purpose, and yielded to the occasion, now so
temptingly presented, for extricating himself and his broken band from
their desperate position, his name would have been buried with his
fortunes, and the conquest of Peru would have been left for other and
more successful adventurers. But his constancy was equal to the
occasion, and his conduct here proved him competent to the perilous
post he had assumed, and inspired others with a confidence in him which
was the best assurance of success.
In the vessel that bore back Tafur and those who seceded from the
expedition the pilot Ruiz was also permitted to return, in order to
cooperate with Luque and Almagro in their application for further
succour.
Not long after the departure of the ships, it was decided by Pizarro to
abandon his present quarters, which had little to recommend them, and
which, he reflected, might now be exposed to annoyance from the
original inhabitants, should they take courage and return, on learning the
diminished number of the white men. The Spaniards, therefore, by his
orders, constructed a rude boat or raft, on which they succeeded in
transporting themselves to the little island of Gorgona, twenty-five
leagues to the north of their present residence. It lay about five leagues
from the continent, and was uninhabited. It had some advantages over
the isle of Gallo; for it stood higher above the sea, and was partially
covered with wood, which afforded shelter to a species of pheasant, and
the hare or rabbit of the country, so that the Spaniards, with their cross-
bows, were enabled to procure a tolerable supply of game. Cool streams
that issued from the living rock furnished abundance of water, though the
drenching rains that fell, without intermission, left them in no danger of
perishing by thirst. From this annoyance they found some protection in
the rude huts which they constructed; though here, as in their former
residence, they suffered from the no less intolerable annoyance of
venomous insects, which multiplied and swarmed in the exhalations of
the rank and stimulated soil. In this dreary abode Pizarro omitted no
means by which to sustain the drooping spirits of his men. Morning
prayers were duly said, and the evening hymn to the Virgin was regularly
chanted; the festivals of the church were carefully commemorated, and
every means taken by their commander to give a kind of religious
character to his enterprise, and to inspire his rough followers with a
confidence in the protection of Heaven, that might support them in their
perilous circumstances.7
In these uncomfortable quarters, their chief employment was to keep
watch on the melancholy ocean, that they might hail the first signal of the
anticipated succour. But many a tedious month passed away, and no
sign of it appeared. All around was the same wide waste of waters,
except to the eastward, where the frozen crest of the Andes, touched with
the ardent sun of the equator, glowed like a ridge of fire along the whole
extent of the great continent. Every speck in the distant horizon was
carefully noticed, and the drifting timber or masses of sea-weed, heaving
to and fro on the bosom of the waters, was converted by their
imaginations into the promised vessel; till, sinking under successive
disappointments, hope gradually gave way to doubt, and doubt settled
into despair.8
Meanwhile the vessel of Tafur had reached the port of Panama. The
tidings which she brought of the inflexible obstinacy of Pizarro and his
followers filled the governor with indignation. He could look on it in no
other light than as an act of suicide, and steadily refused to send further
assistance to men who were obstinately bent on their own destruction.
Yet Luque and Almagro were true to their engagements. They
represented to the governor, that, if the conduct of their comrade was
rash, it was at least in the service of the Crown, and in prosecuting the
great work of discovery. Rios had been instructed, on his taking the
government, to aid Pizarro in the enterprise; and to desert him now
would be to throw away the remaining chance of success, and to incur
the responsibility of his death and that of the brave men who adhered to
him. These remonstrances, at length, so far operated on the mind of that
functionary, that he reluctantly consented that a vessel should be sent to
the island of Gorgona, but with no more hands than were necessary to
work her, and with positive instructions to Pizarro to return in six months
and report himself at Panama, whatever might be the future results of his
expedition.
Having thus secured the sanction of the executive, the two associates lost
no time in fitting out a small vessel with stores and a supply of arms and
ammunition, and despatched it to the island. The unfortunate tenants of
this little wilderness, who had now occupied it for seven months,9 hardly
dared to trust their senses when they descried the white sails of the
friendly bark coming over the waters. And although, when the vessel
anchored off the shore, Pizarro was disappointed to find that it brought
no additional recruits for the enterprise, yet he greeted it with joy, as
affording the means of solving the great problem of the existence of the
rich southern empire, and of thus opening the way for its future conquest.
Two of his men were so ill, that it was determined to leave them in the
care of some of the friendly Indians who had continued with him through
the whole of his sojourn, and to call for them on his return. Taking with
him the rest of his hardy followers and the natives of Tumbez, he
embarked, and, speedily weighing anchor, bade adieu to the "Hell," as it
was called by the Spaniards, which had been the scene of so much
suffering and such undaunted resolution.10
Every heart was now elated with hope, as they found themselves once
more on the waters, under the guidance of the good pilot Ruiz, who,
obeying the directions of the Indians, proposed to steer for the land of
Tumbez, which would bring them at once into the golden empire of the
Incas, --the El Dorado, of which they had been so long in pursuit.
Passing by the dreary isle of Gallo, which they had such good cause to
remember, they stood farther out to sea until they made point Tacumez,
near which they had landed on their previous voyage. They did not
touch at any part of the coast, but steadily held on their way, though
considerably impeded by the currents, as well as by the wind, which
blew with little variation from the south. Fortunately, the wind was light,
and, as the weather was favorable, their voyage, though slow, was not
uncomfortable. In a few days, they came in sight of Point Pasado, the
limit of the pilot's former navigation; and, crossing the line, the little bark
entered upon those unknown seas which had never been ploughed by
European keel before. The coast, they observed, gradually declined
from its former bold and rugged character, gently sloping towards the
shore, and spreading out into sandy plains, relieved here and there by
patches of uncommon richness and beauty; while the white cottages of
the natives glistening along the margin of the sea, and the smoke that
rose among the distant hills, intimated the increasing population of the
country.
At length, after the lapse of twenty days from their departure from the
island, the adventurous vessel rounded the point of St. Helena, and
glided smoothly into the waters of the beautiful gulf of Guayaquil. The
country was here studded along the shore with towns and villages,
though the mighty chain of the Cordilleras, sweeping up abruptly from
the coast, left but a narrow strip of emerald verdure, through which
numerous rivulets, spreading fertility around them, wound their way into
the sea.
The voyagers were now abreast of some of the most stupendous heights
of this magnificent range; Chimborazo, with its broad round summit,
towering like the dome of the Andes, and Cotopaxi, with its dazzling
cone of silvery white, that knows no change except from the action of its
own volcanic fires; for this mountain is the most terrible of the American
volcanoes, and was in formidable activity at no great distance from the
period of our narrative. Well pleased with the signs of civilization that
opened on them at every league of their progress, the Spaniards, at
length, came to anchor, off the island of Santa Clara, lying at the
entrance of the bay of Tumbez.11
The place was uninhabited, but was recognized by the Indians on board,
as occasionally resorted to by the warlike people of the neighboring isle
of Puna, for purposes of sacrifice and worship. The Spaniards found on
the spot a few bits of gold rudely wrought into various shapes, and
probably designed as offerings to the Indian deity. Their hearts were
cheered, as the natives assured them they would see abundance of the
same precious metal in their own city of Tumbez.
The following morning they stood across the bay for this place. As they
drew near, they beheld a town of considerable size, with many of the
buildings apparently of stone and plaster, situated in the bosom of a
fruitful meadow, which seemed to have been redeemed from the sterility
of the surrounding country by careful and minute irrigation. When at
some distance from shore, Pizarro saw standing towards him several
large balsas, which were found to be filled with warriors going on an
expedition against the island of Puna. Running alongside of the Indian
flotilla, he invited some of the chiefs to come on board of his vessel.
The Peruvians gazed with wonder on every object which met their eyes,
and especially on their own countrymen, whom they had little expected
to meet there. The latter informed them in what manner they had fallen
into the hands of the strangers, whom they described as a wonderful race
of beings, that had come thither for no harm, but solely to be made
acquainted with the country and its inhabitants. This account was
confirmed by the Spanish commander, who persuaded the Indians to
return in their balsas and report what they had learned to their townsmen,
requesting them at the same time to provide his vessel with refreshments,
as it was his desire to enter into a friendly intercourse with the natives.
The people of Tumbez were gathered along the shore, and were gazing
with unutterable amazement on the floating castle, which, now having
dropped anchor, rode lazily at its moorings in their bay. They eagerly
listened to the accounts of their countrymen, and instantly reported the
affair to the curaca or ruler of the district, who, conceiving that the
strangers must be beings of a superior order, prepared at once to comply
with their request. It was not long before several balsas were seen
steering for the vessel laden with bananas, plantains, yuca, Indian corn,
sweet potatoes, pine-apples, cocoa-nuts, and other rich products of the
bountiful vale of Tumbez. Game and fish, also, were added, with a
number of llamas, of which Pizarro had seen the rude drawings
belonging to Balboa, but of which till now he had met with no living
specimen. He examined this curious animal, the Peruvian sheep,--or, as
the Spaniards called it, the "little camel" of the Indians,--with much
interest, greatly admiring the mixture of wool and hair which supplied
the natives with the materials for their fabrics.
At that time there happened to be at Tumbez an Inca noble, or orejon, --
for so, as I have already noticed, men of his rank were called by the
Spaniards, from the huge ornaments of gold attached to their ears. He
expressed great curiosity to see the wonderful strangers, and had,
accordingly, come out with the balsas for the purpose. It was easy to
perceive from the superior quality of his dress, as well as from the
deference paid to him by the others, that he was a person of
consideration, and Pizarro received him with marked distinction. He
showed him the different parts of the ship, explaining to him the uses of
whatever engaged his attention, and answering his numerous queries, as
well as he could, by means of the Indian interpreters. The Peruvian chief
was especially desirous of knowing whence and why Pizarro and his
followers had come to these shores. The Spanish captain replied, that he
was the vassal of a great prince, the greatest and most powerful in the
world, and that he had come to this country to assert his master's lawful
supremacy over it. He had further come to rescue the inhabitants from
the darkness of unbelief in which they were now wandering. They
worshipped an evil spirit, who would sink their souls into everlasting
perdition; and he would give them the knowledge of the true and only
God, Jesus Christ, since to believe in him was eternal salvation.12
The Indian prince listened with deep attention and apparent wonder; but
answered nothing. It may be, that neither he nor his interpreters had any
very distinct ideas of the doctrines thus abruptly revealed to them. It
may be that he did not believe there was any other potentate on earth
greater than the Inca; none, at least, who had a better right to rule over
his dominions. And it is very possible he was not disposed to admit that
the great luminary whom he worshipped was inferior to the God of the
Spaniards. But whatever may have passed in the untutored mind of the
barbarian, he did not give vent to it, but maintained a discreet silence,
without any attempt to controvert or to convince his Christian antagonist.
He remained on board the vessel till the hour of dinner, of which he
partook with the Spaniards, expressing his satisfaction at the strange
dishes, and especially pleased with the wine, which he pronounced far
superior to the fermented liquors of his own country. On taking leave, he
courteously pressed the Spaniards to visit Tumbez, and Pizarro
dismissed him with the present, among other things, of an iron hatchet,
which had greatly excited his admiration; for the use of iron, as we have
seen, was as little known to the Peruvians as to the Mexicans.
On the day following, the Spanish captain sent one of his own men,
named Alonso de Molina, on shore, accompanied by a negro who had
come in the vessel from Panama, together with a present for the curaca
of some swine and poultry, neither of which were indigenous to the New
World. Towards evening his emissary returned with a fresh supply of
fruits and vegetables, that the friendly people sent to the vessel. Molina
had a wondrous tale to tell. On landing, he was surrounded by the
natives, who expressed the greatest astonishment at his dress, his fair
complexion, and his long beard. The women, especially, manifested
great curiosity in respect to him, and Molina seemed to be entirely won
by their charms and captivating manners. He probably intimated his
satisfaction by his demeanor, since they urged him to stay among them,
promising in that case to provide him with a beautiful wife.
Their surprise was equally great at the complexion of his sable
companion. They could not believe it was natural, and tried to rub off
the imaginary dye with their hands. As the African bore all this with
characteristic good-humor, displaying at the same time his rows of ivory
teeth, they were prodigiously delighted.13 The animals were no less
above their comprehension; and, when the cock crew, the simple people
clapped their hands, and inquired what he was saying.14 Their intellects
were so bewildered by sights so novel, that they seemed incapable of
distinguishing between man and brute.
Molina was then escorted to the residence of the curaca, whom he found
living in much state, with porters stationed at his doors, and with a
quantity of gold and silver vessels, from which he was served. He was
then taken to different parts of the Indian city, saw a fortress built of
rough stone, and, though low, spreading over a large extent of ground.15
Near this was a temple; and the Spaniard's description of its decorations.
blazing with gold and silver, seemed so extravagant, that Pizarro,
distrusting his whole account, resolved to send a more discreet and
trustworthy emissary on the following day.16
The person selected was Pedro de Candia, the Greek cavalier mentioned
as one of the first who intimated his intention to share the fortunes of his
commander. He was sent on shore, dressed in complete mail as became
a good knight, with his sword by his side, and his arquebuse on his
shoulder. The Indians were even more dazzled by his appearance than
by Molina's, as the sun fell brightly on his polished armour, and glanced
from his military weapons. They had heard much of the formidable
arquebuse from their townsmen who had come in the vessel, and they
besought Candia "to let it speak to them." He accordingly set up a
wooden board as a target, and, taking deliberate aim, fired off the
musket. The flash of the powder and the startling report of the piece, as
the board, struck by the ball, was shivered into splinters, filled the
natives with dismay. Some fell on the ground, covering their faces with
their hands, and others approached the cavalier with feelings of awe,
which were gradually dispelled by the assurance they received from the
smiling expression of his countenance.17
They then showed him the same hospitable attentions which they had
paid to Molina; and his description of the marvels of the place, on his
return, fell nothing short of his predecessor's. The fortress, which was
surrounded by a triple row of wall, was strongly garrisoned. The temple
he described as literally tapestried with plates of gold and silver.
Adjoining this structure was a sort of convent appropriated to the Inca's
destined brides, who manifested great curiosity to see him. Whether this
was gratified is not clear; but Candia described the gardens of the
convent, which he entered, as glowing with imitations of fruits and
vegetables all in pure gold and silver!18 He had seen a number of
artisans at work, whose sole business seemed to be to furnish these
gorgeous decorations for the religious houses.
The reports of the cavalier may have been somewhat over-colored.19 It
was natural that men coming from the dreary wilderness, in which they
had been buried the last six months, should have been vividly impressed
by the tokens of civilization which met them on the Peruvian coast. But
Tumbez was a favorite city of the Peruvian princes. It was the most
important place on the northern borders of the empire, contiguous to the
recent acquisition of Quito. The great Tupac Yupanqui had established a
strong fortress there, and peopled it with a colony of mitimaes. The
temple, and the house occupied by the Virgins of the Sun, had been
erected by Huayna Capac, and were liberally endowed by that Inca, after
the sumptuous fashion of the religious establishments of Peru. The town
was well supplied with water by numerous aqueducts, and the fruitful
valley in which it was embosomed, and the ocean which bathed its
shores, supplied ample means of subsistence to a considerable
population. But the cupidity of the Spaniards, after the Conquest, was
not slow in despoiling the place of its glories; and the site of its proud
towers and temples, in less than half a century after that fatal period, was
to be traced only by the huge mass of ruins that encumbered the
ground.20
The Spaniards were nearly mad with joy, says an old writer, at receiving
these brilliant tidings of the Peruvian city. All their fond dreams were
now to be realized, and they had at length reached the realm which had
so long flitted in visionary splendor before them. Pizarro expressed his
gratitude to Heaven for having crowned his labors with so glorious a
result; but he bitterly lamented the hard fate which, by depriving him of
his followers, denied him, at such a moment, the means of availing
himself of his success. Yet he had no cause for lamentation; and the
devout Catholic saw in this very circumstance a providential
interposition which prevented the attempt at conquest, while such
attempts would have been premature. Peru was not yet torn asunder by
the dissensions of rival candidates for the throne; and, united and strong
under the sceptre of a warlike monarch, she might well have bid defiance
to all the forces that Pizarro could muster. "It was manifestly the work
of Heaven," exclaims a devout son of the Church, "that the natives of the
country should have received him in so kind and loving a spirit, as best
fitted to facilitate the conquest; for it was the Lord's hand which led him
and his followers to this remote region for the extension of the holy faith,
and for the salvation of souls." 21
Having now collected all the information essential to his object, Pizarro,
after taking leave of the natives of Tumbez, and promising a speedy
return, weighed anchor, and again turned his prow towards the south.
Still keeping as near as possible to the coast, that no place of importance
might escape his observation, he passed Cape Blanco, and, after sailing
about a degree and a half, made the port of Payta. The inhabitants, who
had notice of his approach, came out in their balsas to get sight of the
wonderful strangers, bringing with them stores of fruits, fish, and
vegetables, with the same hospitable spirit shown by their countrymen at
Tumbez.
After staying here a short time, and interchanging presents of trifling
value with the natives, Pizarro continued his cruise; and, sailing by the
sandy plains of Sechura for an extent of near a hundred miles, he
doubled the Punta de Aguja, and swept down the coast as it fell off
towards the east, still carried forward by light and somewhat variable
breezes. The weather now became unfavorable, and the voyagers
encountered a succession of heavy gales, which drove them some
distance out to sea, and tossed them about for many days. But they did
not lose sight of the mighty ranges of the Andes, which, as they
proceeded towards the south, were still seen, at nearly the same distance
from the shore, rolling onwards, peak after peak, with their stupendous
surges of ice, like some vast ocean, that had been suddenly arrested and
frozen up in the midst of its wild and tumultuous career. With this
landmark always in view, the navigator had little need of star or compass
to guide his bark on her course.
As soon as the tempest had subsided, Pizarro stood in again for the
continent, touching at the principal points as he coasted along.
Everywhere he was received with the same spirit of generous hospitality;
the natives coming out in their balsas to welcome him, laden with their
little cargoes of fruits and vegetables, of all the luscious varieties that
grow in the tierra caliente. All were eager to have a glimpse of the
strangers, the "Children of the Sun," as the Spaniards began already to be
called, from their fair complexions, brilliant armour, and the
thunderbolts which they bore in their hands.22 The most favorable
reports, too, had preceded them, of the urbanity and gentleness of their
manners, thus unlocking the hearts of the simple natives, and disposing
them to confidence and kindness. The iron-hearted soldier had not yet
disclosed the darker side of his character. He was too weak to do so.
The hour of Conquest had not yet come.
In every place Pizarro received the same accounts of a powerful monarch
who ruled over the land, and held his court on the mountain plains of the
interior, where his capital was depicted as blazing with gold and silver,
and displaying all the profusion of an Oriental satrap. The Spaniards,
except at Tumbez, seem to have met with little of the precious metals
among the natives on the coast. More than one writer asserts that they
did not covet them, or, at least, by Pizarro's orders, affected not to do so.
He would not have them betray their appetite for gold, and actually
refused gifts when they were proffered!23 It is more probable that they
saw little display of wealth, except in the embellishments of the temples
and other sacred buildings, which they did not dare to violate. The
precious metals, reserved for the uses of religion and for persons of high
degree, were not likely to abound in the remote towns and hamlets on the
coast.
Yet the Spaniards met with sufficient evidence of general civilization
and power to convince them that there was much foundation for the
reports of the natives. Repeatedly they saw structures of stone and
plaster, and occasionally showing architectural skill in the execution, if
not elegance of design. Wherever they cast anchor, they beheld green
patches of cultivated country redeemed from the sterility of nature, and
blooming with the variegated vegetation of the tropics; while a refined
system of irrigation, by means of aqueducts and canals, seemed to be
spread like a net-work over the surface of the country, making even the
desert to blossom as the rose. At many places where they landed they
saw the great road of the Incas which traversed the sea-coast, often,
indeed, lost in the volatile sands, where no road could be maintained, but
rising into a broad and substantial causeway, as it emerged on a firmer
soil. Such a provision for internal communication was in itself no slight
monument of power and civilization.
Still beating to the south, Pizarro passed the site of the future flourishing
city of Truxillo, founded by himself some years later, and pressed on till
he rode off the port of Santa. It stood on the banks of a broad and
beautiful stream; but the surrounding country was so exceedingly arid
that it was frequently selected as a burial-place by the Peruvians, who
found the soil most favorable for the preservation of their mummies. So
numerous, indeed, were the Indian guacas, that the place might rather be
called the abode of the dead than of the living.24
Having reached this point, about the ninth degree of southern latitude,
Pizarro's followers besought him not to prosecute the voyage farther.
Enough and more than enough had been done, they said, to prove the
existence and actual position of the great Indian empire of which they
had so long been in search. Yet, with their slender force, they had no
power to profit by the discovery. All that remained, therefore, was to
return and report the success of their enterprise to the governor at
Panama. Pizarro acquiesced in the reasonableness of this demand. He
had now penetrated nine degrees farther than any former navigator in
these southern seas, and, instead of the blight which, up to this hour, had
seemed to hang over his fortunes, he could now return in triumph to his
countrymen. Without hesitation, therefore, he prepared to retrace his
course, and stood again towards the north.
On his way, he touched at several places where he had before landed. At
one of these, called by the Spaniards Santa Cruz, he had been invited on
shore by an Indian woman of rank, and had promised to visit her on his
return. No sooner did his vessel cast anchor off the village where she
lived, than she came on board, followed by a numerous train of
attendants. Pizarro received her with every mark of respect, and on her
departure presented her with some trinkets which had a real value in the
eyes of an Indian princess. She urged the Spanish commander and his
companions to return the visit, engaging to send a number of hostages on
board, as security for their good treatment. Pizarro assured her that the
frank confidence she had shown towards them proved that this was
unnecessary. Yet, no sooner did he put off in his boat, the following day,
to go on shore, than several of the principal persons in the place came
alongside of the ship to be received as hostages during the absence of the
Spaniards,--a singular proof of consideration for the sensitive
apprehensions of her guests.
Pizarro found that preparations had been made for his reception in a style
of simple hospitality that evinced some degree of taste. Arbours were
formed of luxuriant and wide-spreading branches, interwoven with
fragrant flowers and shrubs that diffused a delicious perfume through the
air. A banquet was provided, teeming with viands prepared in the style
of the Peruvian cookery, and with fruits and vegetables of tempting hue
and luscious to the taste, though their names and nature were unknown to
the Spaniards. After the collation was ended, the guests were entertained
with music and dancing by a troop of young men and maidens simply
attired, who exhibited in their favorite national amusement all the agility
and grace which the supple limbs of the Peruvian Indians so well
qualified them to display. Before his departure, Pizarro stated to his
kind host the motives of his visit to the country, in the same manner as he
had done on other occasions, and he concluded by unfurling the royal
banner of Castile, which he had brought on shore, requesting her and her
attendants to raise it in token of their allegiance to his sovereign. This
they did with great good-humor, laughing all the while, says the
chronicler, and making it clear that they had a very imperfect conception
of the serious nature of the ceremony. Pizarro was contented with this
outward display of loyalty, and returned to his vessel well satisfied with
the entertainment he had received, and meditating, it may be, on the best
mode of repaying it, hereafter, by the subjugation and conversion of the
country.
The Spanish commander did not omit to touch also at Tumbez, on his
homeward voyage. Here some of his followers, won by the comfortable
aspect of the place and the manners of the people, intimated a wish to
remain, conceiving, no doubt, that it would be better to live where they
would be persons of consequence than to return to an obscure condition
in the community of Panama. One of these men was Alonso de Molina,
the same who had first gone on shore at this place, and been captivated
by the charms of the Indian beauties. Pizarro complied with their
wishes, thinking it would not be amiss to find, on his return, some of his
own followers who would be instructed in the language and usages of the
natives. He was also allowed to carry back in his vessel two or three
Peruvians, for the similar purpose of instructing them in the Castilian.
One of them, a youth named by the Spaniards Felipillo, plays a part of
some importance in the history of subsequent events.
On leaving Tumbez, the adventurers steered directly for Panama,
touching only, on their way, at the ill-fated island of Gorgona to take on
board their two companions who were left there too ill to proceed with
them. One had died, and, receiving the other, Pizarro and his gallant
little band continued their voyage; and, after an absence of at least
eighteen months, found themselves once more safely riding at anchor in
the harbor of Panama.25
The sensation caused by their arrival was great, as might have been
expected. For there were few, even among the most sanguine of their
friends, who did not imagine that they had long since paid for their
temerity, and fallen victims to the climate or the natives, or miserably
perished in a watery grave. Their joy was proportionably great,
therefore, as they saw the wanderers now returned, not only in health and
safety, but with certain tidings of the fair countries which had so long
eluded their grasp. It was a moment of proud satisfaction to the three
associates, who, in spite of obloquy, derision, and every impediment
which the distrust of friends or the coldness of government could throw
in their way, had persevered in their great enterprise until they had
established the truth of what had been so generally denounced as a
chimera. It is the misfortune of those daring spirits who conceive an idea
too vast for their own generation to comprehend, or, at least, to attempt
to carry out, that they pass for visionary dreamers. Such had been the
fate of Luque and his associates. The existence of a rich Indian empire
at the south, which, in their minds, dwelling long on the same idea and
alive to all the arguments in its favor, had risen to the certainty of
conviction, had been derided by the rest of their countrymen as a mere
mirage of the fancy, which, on nearer approach, would melt into air;
while the projectors, who staked their fortunes on the adventure, were
denounced as madmen. But their hour of triumph, their slow and
hardearned triumph, had now arrived.
Yet the governor, Pedro de los Rios, did not seem, even at this moment,
to be possessed with a conviction of the magnitude of the discovery,--or,
perhaps, he was discouraged by its very magnitude. When the
associates, now with more confidence, applied to him for patronage in an
undertaking too vast for their individual resources, he coldly replied, "He
had no desire to build up other states at the expense of his own; nor
would he be led to throw away more lives than had already been
sacrificed by the cheap display of gold and silver toys and a few Indian
sheep!" 26
Sorely disheartened by this repulse from the only quarter whence
effectual aid could be expected, the confederates, without funds, and
with credit nearly exhausted by their past efforts, were perplexed in the
extreme. Yet to stop now,--what was it but to abandon the rich mine
which their own industry and perseverance had laid open, for others to
work at pleasure? In this extremity the fruitful mind of Luque suggested
the only expedient by which they could hope for success. This was to
apply to the Crown itself. No one was so much interested in the result of
the expedition. It was for the government, indeed, that discoveries were
to be made, that the country was to be conquered. The government alone
was competent to provide the requisite means, and was likely to take a
much broader and more liberal view of the matter than a petty colonial
officer.
But who was there qualified to take charge of this delicate mission?
Luque was chained by his professional duties to Panama; and his
associates, unlettered soldiers, were much better fitted for the business of
the camp than of the court. Almagro, blunt, though somewhat swelling
and ostentatious in his address, with a diminutive stature and a
countenance naturally plain, now much disfigured by the loss of an eye,
was not so well qualified for the mission as his companion in arms, who,
possessing a good person and altogether a commanding presence, was
plausible, and, with all his defects of education, could, where deeply
interested, be even eloquent in discourse. The ecclesiastic, however,
suggested that the negotiation should be committed to the Licentiate
Corral, a respectable functionary, then about to return on some public
business to the mother country. But to this Almagro strongly objected.
No one, he said, could conduct the affair so well as the party interested
in it. He had a high opinion of Pizarro's prudence, his discernment of
character, and his cool, deliberate policy.27 He knew enough of his
comrade to have confidence that his presence of mind would not desert
him, even in the new, and therefore embarrassing, circumstances in
which he would be placed at court. No one, he said, could tell the story
of their adventures with such effect, as the man who had been the chief
actor in them. No one could so well paint the unparalleled sufferings and
sacrifices which they had encountered; no other could tell so forcibly
what had been done, what yet remained to do, and what assistance would
be necessary to carry it into execution. He concluded, with characteristic
frankness, by strongly urging his confederate to undertake the mission.
Pizarro felt the force of Almagro's reasoning, and, though with
undisguised reluctance, acquiesced in a measure which was less to his
taste than an expedition to the wilderness. But Luque came into the
arrangement with more difficulty. "God grant, my children," exclaimed
the ecclesiastic, "that one of you may not defraud the other of his
blessing!" 28 Pizarro engaged to consult the interests of his associates
equally with his own. But Luque, it is clear, did not trust Pizarro.
There was some difficulty in raising the funds necessary for putting the
envoy in condition to make a suitable appearance at court; so low had the
credit of the confederates fallen, and so little confidence was yet placed
in the result of their splendid discoveries. Fifteen hundred ducats were at
length raised; and Pizarro, in the spring of 1528, bade adieu to Panama,
accompanied by Pedro de Candia.29 He took with him, also, some of
the natives, as well as two or three llamas, various nice fabrics of cloth,
with many ornaments and vases of gold and silver, as specimens of the
civilization of the country, and vouchers for his wonderful story.
Of all the writers on ancient Peruvian history, no one has acquired so
wide celebrity, or been so largely referred to by later compilers, as the
Inca Garcilasso de la Vega. He was born at Cuzco, in 1540; and was a
mestizo, that is of mixed descent, his father being European, and his
mother Indian. His father, Garcilasso de la Vega, was one of that
illustrious family whose achievements, both in arms and letters, shed
such lustre over the proudest period of the Castilian annals. He came to
Peru, in the suite of Pedro de Alvarado, soon after the country had been
gained by Pizarro. Garcilasso attached himself to the fortunes of this
chief, and, after his death, to those of his brother Gonzalo,--remaining.
constant to the latter, through his rebellion, up to the hour of his rout at
Xaquixaguana, when Garcilasso took the same course with most of his
faction, and passed over to the enemy. But this demonstration of loyalty,
though it saved his life, was too late to redeem his credit with the
victorious party; and the obloquy which he incurred by his share in the
rebellion threw a cloud over his subsequent fortunes, and even over
those of his son, as it appears, in after years.
The historian's mother was of the Peruvian blood royal. She was niece
of Huayna Capac, and granddaughter of the renowned Tupac Inca
Yupanqui. Garcilasso, while he betrays obvious satisfaction that the
blood of the civilized European flows in his veins shows himself not a
little proud of his descent from the royal dynasty of Peru; and this he
intimated by combining with his patronymic the distinguishing title of
the Peruvian princes,---subscribing himself always Garcilasso Inca de la
Vega.
His early years were passed in his native land, where he was reared in the
Roman Catholic faith, and received the benefit of as good an education
as could be obtained, amidst the incessant din of arms and civil
commotion. In 1560, when twenty years of age, he left America, and
from that time took up his residence in Spain. Here he entered the
military service, and held a captain's commission in the war against the
Moriscos, and, afterwards, under Don John of Austria. Though he
acquitted himself honorably in his adventurous career, he does not seem
to have been satisfied with the manner in which his services were
requited by the government. The old reproach of the father's disloyalty
still clung to the son and Garcilasso assures us that this circumstance
defeated all his efforts to recover the large inheritance of landed property
belonging to his mother, which had escheated to the Crown. "Such were
the prejudices against me," says he, "that I could not urge my ancient
claims or expectations; and I left the army so poor and so much in debt,
that I did not care to show myself again at court; but was obliged to
withdraw into an obscure solitudes where I lead a tranquil life for the
brief space that remains to me, no longer deluded by the world or its
vanities."
The scene of this obscure retreat was not, however, as the reader might
imagine from this tone of philosophic resignation, in the depths of some
rural wilderness, but in Cordova, once the gay capital of Moslem
science, and still the busy haunt of men. Here our philosopher occupied
himself with literary labors, the more sweet and soothing to his wounded
spirit, that they tended to illustrate the faded glories of his native land,
and exhibit them in their primitive splendor to the eyes of his adopted
countrymen. "And I have no reason to regret," he says in his Preface to
his account of Florida, "that Fortune has not smiled on me, since this
circumstance has opened a literary career which, I trust, will secure to
me a wider and more enduring fame than could flow from any worldly
prosperity."
In 1609, he gave to the world the First Part of his great work, the
Commentarios Reales, devoted to the history of the country under the
Incas; and in 1616, a few months before his death, he finished the
Second Part, embracing the story of the Conquest, which was published
at Cordova the following year. The chronicler, who thus closed his
labors with his life, died at the ripe old age of seventy-six. He left a
considerabe sum for the purchase of masses for his soul, showing that the
complaints of his poverty are not to be taken literally. His remains were
interred in the cathedral church of Cordova, in a chapel which bears the
name of Garcilasso; and an inscription was placed on his monument,
intimating the high respect in which the historian was held both for his
moral worth and his literary attainments.
The First Part of the Commentarios Reales is occupied, as already
noticed, with the ancient history of the country, presenting a complete
picture of its civilization under the Incas,--far more complete than has
been given by any other writer. Garcilasso's mother was but ten years
old at the time of her cousin Atahuallpa's accession, or rather usurpation,
as it is called by the party of Cuzco. She had the good fortune to escape
the massacre which, according to the chroniclers befell most of her
kindred, and with her brother continued to reside in their ancient capital
after the Conquest. Their conversations naturally turned to the good old
times of the Inca rule, which, colored by their fond regrets, may be
presumed to have lost nothing as seen through the magnifying medium of
the past. The young Garcilasso Listened greedily to the stories which
recounted the magnificence and prowess of his royal ancestors, and
though he made no use of them at the time, they sunk deep into his
memory, to be treasured up for a future occasion. When he prepared,
after the lapse of many years, in his retirement at Cordova, to compose
the history of his country, he wrote to his old companions and
schoolfellows, of the Inca family, to obtain fuller information than he
could get in Spain on various matters of historical interest. He had
witnessed in his youth the ancient ceremonies and usages of his
countrymen, understood the science of their quipus, and mastered many
of their primitive traditions. With the assistance he now obtained from
his Peruvian kindred, he acquired a familiarity with the history of the
great Inca race, and of their national institutions, to an extent that no
person could have possessed, unless educated in the midst of them,
speaking the same language, and with the same Indian blood flowing in
his veins. Garcilasso, in short, was the representative of the conquered
race; and we might expect to find the lights and shadows of the picture
disposed under his pencil so as to produce an effect very different from
that which they had hitherto exhibited under the hands of the
Conquerors.
Such, to a certain extent, is the fact; and this circumstance affords a
means of comparison which would alone render his works of great value
in arriving at just historic conclusions. But Garcilasso wrote late in life,
after the story had been often told by Castilian writers. He naturally
deferred much to men, some of whom enjoyed high credit on the score
both of their scholarship and their social position. His object, he
professes, was not so much to add any thing new of his own, as to correct
their errors and the misconceptions into which they had been brought by
their ignorance of the Indian languages and the usages of his people. He
does, in fact, however, go far beyond this; and the stores of information
which he has collected have made his work a large repository, whence
later laborers in the same field have drawn copious materials. He writes
from the fulness of his heart, and illuminates every topic that he touches
with a variety and richness of illustration, that leave little to be desired
by the most importunate curiosity. The difference between reading his
Commentaries and the accounts of European writers is the difference that
exists between reading a work in the original and in a bald translation.
Garcilasso's writings are an emanation from the Indian mind.
Yet his Commentaries are open to a grave objection,--and one naturally
suggested by his position. Addressing himself to the cultivated
European, he was most desirous to display the ancient glories of his
people, and still more of the Inca race, in their most imposing form.
This, doubtless, was the great spur to his literary labors, for which
previous education, however good for the evil time on which he was
cast, had far from qualified him. Garcilasso, therefore, wrote to effect a
particular object. He stood forth as counsel for his unfortunate
countrymen, pleading the cause of that degraded race before the tribunal
of posterity. The exaggerated tone of panegyric consequent on this
becomes apparent in every page of his work. He pictures forth a state of
society such as an Utopian philosopher would hardly venture to depict.
His royal ancestors became the types of every imaginery excellence, and
the golden age is revived for a nation, which, while the war of
proselytism is raging on its borders, enjoys within all the blessings of
tranquillity and peace. Even the material splendors of the monarchy,
sufficiently great in this land of gold, become heightened, under the
glowing imagination of the Inca chronicler, into the gorgeous illusions of
a fairy tale.
Yet there is truth at the bottom of his wildest conceptions, and it would
be unfair to the Indian historian to suppose that he did not himself
believe most of the magic marvels which he describes. There is no
credulity like that of a Christian convert,---one newly converted to the
faith. From long dwelling in the darkness of paganism, his eyes, when
first opened to the light of truth, have not acquired the power of
discriminating the just proportions of objects, of distinguishing between
the real and the imaginary. Garcilasso was not a convert indeed, for he
was bred from infancy in the Roman Catholic faith. But he was
surrounded by converts and neophytes,--by those of his own blood, who,
after practising all their lives the rites of paganism, were now first
admitted into the Christian fold. He listened to the teachings of the
missionary, learned from him to give implicit credit to the marvellous
legends of the Saints, and the no less marvellous accounts of his own
victories in his spiritual warfare for the propagation of the faith. Thus
early accustomed to such large drafts on his credulity, his reason lost its
heavenly power of distinguishing truth from error, and he became so
familiar with the miraculous, that the miraculous was no longer a
miracle.
Yet, while large deductions are to be made on this account from the
chronicler's reports, there is always a germ of truth which it is not
difficult to detect, and even to disengage from the fanciful covering
which envelopes it; and after every allowance for the exaggerations of
national vanity, we shall find an abundance of genuine information in
respect to the antiquities of his country, for which we shall look in vain
in any European writer.
Garcilasso's work is the reflection of the age in which he lived. It is
addressed to the imagination, more than to sober reason. We are dazzled
by the gorgeous spectacle it perpetually exhibits, and delighted by the
variety of amusing details and animated gossip sprinkled over its pages.
The story of the action is perpetually varied by discussions on topics
illustrating its progress, so as to break up the monotony of the narrative,
and afford an agreeable relief to the reader. This is true of the First Part
of his great work. In the Second there was no longer room for such
discussion. But he has supplied the place by garrulous reminiscences,
personal anecdotes, incidental adventures, and a host of trivial details,--
trivial in the eyes of the pedant,--which historians have been too willing
to discard, as below the dignity of history. We have the actors in this
great drama in their private dress, become acquainted with their personal
habits, listen to their familiar sayings, and, in short gather up those
minutiae which in the aggregate make up so much of life and not less of
character.
It is this confusion of the great and the little, thus artlessly blended
together, that constitutes one of the charms of the old romantic
chronicle,--not the less true that, in this respect, it approaches nearer to
the usual tone of romance. It is in such writings that we may look to find
the form and pressure of the age. The wormeaten state-papers, official
correspondence, public records, are all serviceable, indispensable, to
history. They are the framework on which it is to repose; the skeleton of
facts which gives it its strength and proportions. But they are as
worthless as the dry bones of the skeleton, unless clothed with the
beautiful form and garb of humanity, and instinct with the spirit of the
age.--Our debt is large to the antiquarian, who with conscientious
precision lays broad and deep the foundations of historic truth; and no
less to the philosophic annalist who exhibits man in the dress of public
life,--man in masquerade; but our gratitude must surely not be withheld
from those, who, like Garcilasso de la Vega, and many a romancer of the
Middle Ages, have held up the mirror--distorted though it may somewhat
be-to the interior of life, reflecting every object, the great and the mean
the beautiful and the deformed, with their natural prominence and their
vivacity of coloring, to the eye of the spectator. As a work of art, such a
production may be thought to be below criticism. But, although it defy
the rules of art in its composition, it does not necessarily violate the
principles of taste; for it conforms in its spirit to the spirit of the age in
which it was written. And the critic, who coldly condemns it on the
severe principles of art, will find a charm in its very simplicity, that will
make him recur again and again to its pages, while more correct and
classical compositions are laid aside and forgotten.
I cannot dismiss this notice of Garcilasso, though already long
protracted, without some allusion to the English translation of his
Commentaries. It appeared in James the Second's reign, and is the work
of Sir Paul Rycaut, Knight. It was printed at London in 1688, in folio,
with considerable pretension in its outward dress, well garnished with
wood-cuts, and a frontispiece displaying the gaunt and rather sardonic
features, not of the author, but his translator. The version keeps pace
with the march of the original, corresponding precisely in books and
chapters, and seldom, though sometimes, using the freedom, so common
in these ancient versions, of abridgment and omission. Where it does
depart from the original, it is rather from ignorance than intention.
Indeed, as far as the plea of ignorance will avail him, the worthy knight
may urge it stoutly in his defence. No one who reads the book will doubt
his limited acquaintance with his own tongue, and no one who compares
it with the original will deny his ignorance of the Castilian. It contains as
many blunders as paragraphs, and most of them such as might shame a
schoolboy. Yet such are the rude charms of the original, that this ruder
version of it has found considerable favor with readers; and Sir Paul
Rycaut's translation, old as it is, may still be met with in many a private,
as well as public library.
History of the Conquest of Peru
by William Hickling Prescott