The Almagro Faction--Their Desperate Condition-
Conspiracy Against Francisco Pizarro--Assassination Of Pizarro-
Acts Of The Conspirators--Pizarro's Character
1541
When Gonzalo Pizarro reached Quito, he received tidings of an event
which showed that his expedition to the Amazon had been even more
fatal to his interests than he had imagined. A revolution had taken place
during his absence, which had changed the whole condition of things in
Peru.
In a preceding chapter we have seen, that, when Hernando Pizarro
returned to Spain, his brother the marquess repaired to Lima, where he
continued to occupy himself with building up his infant capital, and
watching over the general interests of the country. While thus employed,
he gave little heed to a danger that hourly beset his path, and this, too, in
despite of repeated warnings from more circumspect friends.
After the execution of Almagro, his followers, to the number of several
hundred, remained scattered through the country; but, however scattered,
still united by a common sentiment of indignation against the Pizarros,
the murderers, as they regarded them, of their leader. The governor was
less the object of these feelings than his brother Hernando, as having
been less instrumental in the perpetration of the deed. Under these
circumstances, it was clearly Pizarro's policy to do one of two things; to
treat the opposite faction either as friends, or as open enemies. He might
conciliate the most factious by acts of kindness, efface the remembrance
of past injury, if he could, by present benefits; in short, prove to them
that his quarrel had been with their leader, not with themselves, and that
it was plainly for their interest to come again under his banner. This
would have been the most politic, as well as the most magnanimous
course; and, by augmenting the number of his adherents, would have
greatly strengthened his power in the land. But, unhappily, he had not
the magnanimity to pursue it. It was not in the nature of a Pizarro to
forgive an injury, or the man whom he had injured. As he would not,
therefore, try to conciliate Almagro's adherents, it was clearly the
governor's policy to regard them as enemies, not the less so for being in
disguise,--and to take such measures as should disqualify them for doing
mischief. He should have followed the counsel of his more prudent
brother Hernando, and distributed them in different quarters, taking care
that no great number should assemble at any one point, or, above all, in
the neighborhood of his own residence.
But the governor despised the broken followers of Almagro too heartily
to stoop to precautionary measures. He suffered the son of his rival to
remain in Lima, where his quarters soon became the resort of the
disaffected cavaliers. The young man was well known to most of
Almagro's soldiers, having been trained along with them in the camp
under his father's eye, and, now that his parent was removed, they
naturally transferred their allegiance to the son who survived him.
That the young Almagro, however, might be less able to maintain this
retinue of unprofitable followers, he was deprived by Pizarro of a great
part of his Indians and lands, while he was excluded from the
government of New Toledo, which had been settled on him by his
father's testament.1 Stripped of all means of support, without office or
employment of any kind, the men of Chili, for so Almagro's adherents
continued to be called, were reduced to the utmost distress. So poor
were they, as is the story of the time, that twelve cavaliers, who lodged in
the same house, could muster only one cloak among them all; and, with
the usual feeling of pride that belongs to the poor hidalgo, unwilling to
expose their poverty, they wore this cloak by turns, those who had no
right to it remaining at home.2 Whether true or not, the anecdote well
illustrates the extremity to which Almagro's faction was reduced. And
this distress was rendered yet more galling by the effrontery of their
enemies, who, enriched by their forfeitures, displayed before their eyes
all the insolent bravery of equipage and apparel that could annoy their
feelings.
Men thus goaded by insult and injury were too dangerous to be lightly
regarded. But, although Pizarro received various intimations intended to
put him on his guard, he gave no heed to them. "Poor devils!" he would
exclaim, speaking with contemptuous pity of the men of Chili; "they
have had bad luck enough. We will not trouble them further."3 And so
little did he consider them, that he went freely about, as usual, riding
without attendants to all parts of the town and to its immediate
environs.4
News now reached the colony of the appointment of a judge by the
Crown to take cognizance of the affairs of Peru. Pizarro, although
alarmed by the intelligence, sent orders to have him well entertained on
his landing, and suitable accommodations prepared for him on the route.
The spirits of Almagro's followers were greatly raised by the tidings.
They confidently looked to this high functionary for the redress of their
wrongs; and two of their body, clad in suits of mourning, were chosen to
go to the north, where the judge was expected to land, and to lay their
grievances before him.
But months elapsed, and no tidings came of his arrival, till, at length, a
vessel, coming into port, announced that most of the squadron had
foundered in the heavy storms on the coast, and that the commissioner
had probably perished with them. This was disheartening intelligence to
the men of Chili, whose "miseries," to use the words of their young
leader, "had become too grievous to be borne."5 Symptoms of
disaffection had already begun openly to manifest themselves. The
haughty cavaliers did not always doff their bonnets, on meeting the
governor in the street; and on one occasion, three ropes were found
suspended from the public gallows, with labels attached to them, bearing
the names of Pizarro, Velasquez the judge, and Picado the governor's
secretary.6 This last functionary was peculiarly odious to Almagro and
his followers. As his master knew neither how to read nor write, all his
communications passed through Picado's hands; and, as the latter was of
a hard and arrogant nature, greatly elated by the consequence which his
position gave him, he exercised a mischievous influence on the
governor's measures. Almagro's poverty-stricken followers were the
objects of his open ridicule, and he revenged the insult now offered him
by riding before their young leader's residence, displaying a tawdry
magnificence in his dress, sparkling with gold and silver, and with the
inscription, "For the Men of Chili," set in his bonnet. It was a foolish
taunt; but the poor cavaliers who were the object of it, made morbidly
sensitive by their sufferings, had not the philosophy to despise it.7
At length, disheartened by the long protracted coming of Vaca de Castro,
and still more by the recent reports of his loss, Almagro's faction,
despairing of redress from a legitimate authority, determined to take it
into their own hands. They came to the desperate resolution of
assassinating Pizarro. The day named for this was Sunday, the twenty-
sixth of June, 1541- The conspirators, eighteen or twenty in number,
were to assemble in Almagro's house, which stood in the great square
next to the cathedral, and, when the governor was returning from mass,
they were to issue forth and fall on him in the street. A white flag,
unfurled at the same time from an upper window in the house, was to be
the signal for the rest of their comrades to move to the support of those
immediately engaged in the execution of the deed.8
These arrangements could hardly have been concealed from Almagro,
since his own quarters were to be the place of rendezvous. Yet there is
no good evidence of his having taken part in the conspiracy.9 He was,
indeed, too young to make it probable that he took a leading part in it.
He is represented by contemporary writers to have given promise of
many good qualities, though, unhappily, he was not placed in a situation
favorable for their development. He was the son of an Indian woman of
Panama; but from early years had followed the troubled fortunes of his
father, to whom he bore much resemblance in his free and generous
nature, as well as in the violence of his passions. His youth and
inexperience disqualified him from taking the lead in the perplexing
circumstances in which he was placed, and made him little more than a
puppet in the hands of others.10
The most conspicuous of his advisers was Juan de Herrada, or Rada, as
his name is more usually spelt,--a cavalier of respectable family, but
who, having early enlisted as a common soldier, had gradually risen to
the highest posts in the army by his military talents. At this time he was
well advanced in years; but the fires of youth were not quenched in his
bosom, and he burned with desire to avenge the wrongs done to his
ancient commander. The attachment which he had ever felt for the elder
Almagro he seems to have transferred in full measure to his son; and it
was apparently with reference to him, even more than to himself, that he
devised this audacious plot, and prepared to take the lead in the
execution of it.
There was one, however, in the band of conspirators who felt some
compunctions of conscience at the part he was acting, and who relieved
his bosom by revealing the whole plot to his confessor. The latter lost no
time in reporting it to Picado, by whom in turn it was communicated to
Pizarro. But, strange to say, it made little more impression on the
governor's mind than the vague warnings he had so frequently received.
"It is a device of the priest," said he; "he wants a mitre." 11 Yet he
repeated the story to the judge Velasquez, who, instead of ordering the
conspirators to be seized, and the proper steps taken for learning the
truth of the accusation, seemed to be possessed with the same infatuation
as Pizarro; and he bade the governor be under no apprehension, "for no
harm should come to him, while the rod of justice," not a metaphorical
badge of authority in Castile, "was in his hands." 12 Still, to obviate
every possibility of danger, it was deemed prudent for Pizarro to abstain
from going to mass on Sunday, and to remain at home on pretence of
illness.
On the day appointed, Rada and his companions met in Almagro's house,
and waited with anxiety for the hour when the governor should issue
from the church. But great was their consternation, when they learned
that he was not there, but was detained at home, as currently reported, by
illness. Little doubting that their design was discovered, they felt their
own ruin to be the inevitable consequence, and that, too, without
enjoying the melancholy consolation of having struck the blow for which
they had incurred it. Greatly perplexed, some were for disbanding, in the
hope that Pizarro might, after all, be ignorant of their design. But most
were for carrying it into execution at once, by assaulting him in his own
house. The question was summarily decided by one of the party, who
felt that in this latter course lay their only chance of safety. Throwing
open the doors, he rushed out, calling on his comrades "to follow him, or
he would proclaim the purpose for which they had met." There was no
longer hesitation, and the cavaliers issued forth, with Rada at their head,
shouting, as they went, "Long live the king! Death to the tyrant!" 13
It was the hour of dinner, which, in this primitive age of the Spanish
colonies, was at noon. Yet numbers, roused by the cries of the
assailants, came out into the square to inquire the cause. "They are
going to kill the marquess," some said very coolly; others replied, "It is
Picado." No one stirred in their defence. The power of Pizarro was not
seated in the hearts of his people.
As the conspirators traversed the plaza, one of the party made a circuit to
avoid a little pool of water that lay in their path. "What!" exclaimed
Rada, "afraid of wetting your feet, when you are to wade up to your
knees in blood!" And he ordered the man to give up the enterprise and
go home to his quarters. The anecdote is characteristic.14
The governor's palace stood on the opposite side of the square. It was
approached by two courtyards. The entrance to the outer one was
protected by a massive gate, capable of being made good against a
hundred men or more. But it was left open, and the assailants, hurrying
through to the inner court, still shouting their fearful battle-cry, were met
by two domestics loitering in the yard. One of these they struck down.
The other, flying in all haste towards the house, called out, "Help, help!
the men of Chili are all coming to murder the marquess!"
Pizarro at this time was at dinner, or, more probably, had just dined. He
was surrounded by a party of friends, who had dropped in, it seems, after
mass, to inquire after the state of his health, some of whom had remained
to partake of his repast. Among these was Don Martinez do Alcantara,
Pizarro's half-brother by the mother's side, the judge Velasquez, the
bishop elect of Quito, and several of the principal cavaliers in the place,
to the number of fifteen or twenty. Some of them, alarmed by the uproar
in the court-yard, left the saloon, and, running down to the first landing
on the stairway, inquired into the cause of the disturbance. No sooner
were they informed of it by the cries of the servant, than they retreated
with precipitation into the house; and, as they had no mind to abide the
storm unarmed, or at best imperfectly armed, as most of them were, they
made their way to a corridor that overlooked the gardens, into which
they easily let themselves down without injury. Velasquez, the judge,
the better to have the use of his hands in the descent, held his rod of
office in his mouth, thus taking care, says a caustic old chronicler, not to
falsify his assurance, that "no harm should come to Pizarro while the rod
of justice was in his hands"! 15
Meanwhile, the marquess, learning the nature of the tumult, called out to
Francisco de Chaves, an officer high in his confidence, and who was in
the outer apartment opening on the staircase, to secure the door, while he
and his brother Alcantara buckled on their armour. Had this order,
coolly given, been as coolly obeyed, it would have saved them all, since
the entrance could easily have been maintained against a much larger
force, till the report of the cavaliers who had fled had brought support to
Pizarro. But unfortunately, Chaves, disobeying his commander, half
opened the door, and attempted to enter into a parley with the
conspirators. The latter had now reached the head of the stairs, and cut
short the debate by running Chaves through the body, and tumbling his
corpse down into the area below. For a moment they were kept at bay by
the attendants of the slaughtered cavalier, but these, too, were quickly
despatched; and Rada and his companions, entering the apartment,
hurried across it, shouting out, "Where is the marquess? Death to the
tyrant!"
Martinez de Alcantara, who in the adjoining room was assisting his
brother to buckle on his mail, no sooner saw that the entrance to the
antechamber had been gained, than he sprang to the doorway of the
apartment, and, assisted by two young men, pages of Pizarro, and by one
or two cavaliers in attendance, endeavored to resist the approach of the
assailants. A desperate struggle now ensued. Blows were given on both
sides, some of which proved fatal, and two of the conspirators were
slain, while Alcantara and his brave companions were repeatedly
wounded.
At length, Pizarro, unable, in the hurry of the moment, to adjust the
fastenings of his cuirass, threw it away, and, enveloping one arm in his
cloak, with the other seized his sword, and sprang to his brother's
assistance. It was too late; for Alcantara was already staggering under
the loss of blood, and soon fell to the ground. Pizarro threw himself on
his invaders, like a lion roused in his lair, and dealt his blows with as
much rapidity and force, as if age had no power to stiffen his limbs.
"What ho!" he cried, "traitors! have you come to kill me in my own
house?" The conspirators drew back for a moment, as two of their body
fell under Pizarro's sword; but they quickly rallied, and, from their
superior numbers, fought at great advantage by relieving one another in
the assault. Still the passage was narrow, and the struggle lasted for
some minutes, till both of Pizarro's pages were stretched by his side,
when Rada, impatient of the delay, called out, "Why are we so long
about it? Down with the tyrant!" and taking one of his companions,
Narvaez, in his arms, he thrust him against the marquess. Pizarro,
instantly grappling with his opponent, ran him through with his sword.
But at that moment he received a wound in the throat, and reeling, he
sank on the floor, while the swords of Rada and several of the
conspirators were plunged into his body. "Jesu!" exclaimed the dying
man, and, tracing a cross with his finger on the bloody floor, he bent
down his head to kiss it, when a stroke, more friendly than the rest, put
an end to his existence.16
The conspirators, having accomplished their bloody deed, rushed into
the street, and, brandishing their dripping weapons, shouted out, "The
tyrant is dead! The laws are restored! Long live our master the emperor,
and his governor, Almagro!" The men of Chili, roused by the cheering
cry, now flocked in from every side to join the banner of Rada, who soon
found himself at the head of nearly three hundred followers, all armed
and prepared to support his authority. A guard was placed over the
houses of the principal partisans of the late governor, and their persons
were taken into custody. Pizarro's house, and that of his secretary
Picado, were delivered up to pillage and a large booty in gold and silver
was found in the former. Picado himself took refuge in the dwelling of
Riquelme, the treasurer; but his hiding-place was detected, --betrayed,
according to some accounts, by the looks, though not the words, of the
treasurer himself,--and he was dragged forth and committed to a secure
prison.17 The whole city was thrown into consternation, as armed
bodies hurried to and fro on their several errands, and all who were not
in the faction of Almagro trembled lest they should be involved in the
proscription of their enemies. So great was the disorder, that the
Brothers of Mercy, turning out in a body, paraded the streets in solemn
procession, with the host elevated in the air, in hopes by the presence of
the sacred symbol to calm the passions of the multitude.
But no other violence was offered by Rada and his followers than to
apprehend a few suspected persons, and to seize upon horses and arms
wherever they were to be found. The municipality was then summoned
to recognize the authority of Almagro; the refractory were ejected
without ceremony from their offices, and others of the Chili faction were
substituted. The claims of the new aspirant were fully recognized; and
young Almagro, parading the streets on horseback, and escorted by a
well-armed body of cavaliers, was proclaimed by sound of trumpet
governor and captain-general of Peru.
Meanwhile, the mangled bodies of Pizarro and his faithful adherents
were left weltering in their blood. Some were for dragging forth the
governor's corpse to the market-place, and fixing his head upon a gibbet.
But Almagro was secretly prevailed on to grant the entreaties of Pizarro's
friends, and allow his interment. This was stealthily and hastily
performed, in the fear of momentary interruption. A faithful attendant
and his wife, with a few black domestics, wrapped the body in a cotton
cloth and removed it to the cathedral. A grave was hastily dug in an
obscure corner, the services were hurried through, and, in secrecy, and in
darkness dispelled only by the feeble glimmering of a few tapers
furnished by these humble menials, the remains of Pizarro, rolled in their
bloody shroud, were consigned to their kindred dust. Such was the
miserable end of the Conqueror of Peru,--of the man who but a few
hours before had lorded it over the land with as absolute a sway as was
possessed by its hereditary Incas. Cut off in the broad light of day, in the
heart of his own capital, in the very midst of those who had been his
companions in arms and shared with him his triumphs and his spoils, he
perished like a wretched outcast. "There was none, even," in the
expressive language of the chronicler, "to say, God forgive him!" 18
A few years later, when tranquillity was restored to the country, Pizarro's
remains were placed in a sumptuous coffin and deposited under a
monument in a conspicuous part of the cathedral. And in 1607, when
time had thrown its friendly mantle over the past, and the memory of his
errors and his crimes was merged in the consideration of the great
services he had rendered to the Crown by the extension of her colonial
empire, his bones were removed to the new cathedral, and allowed to
repose side by side with those of Mendoza, the wise and good viceroy of
Peru.19
Pizarro was, probably, not far from sixty-five years of age at the time of
his death; though this, it must be added, is but loose conjecture, since
there exists no authentic record of the date of his birth.20 He was never
married; but by an Indian princess of the Inca blood, daughter of
Atahuallpa and granddaughter of the great Huayna Capac, he had two
children, a son and a daughter. Both survived him; but the son did not
live to manhood. Their mother, after Pizarro's death, wedded a Spanish
cavalier, named Ampuero, and removed with him to Spain. Her
daughter Francisca accompanied her, and was there subsequently
married to her uncle Hernando Pizarro, then a prisoner in the Mota del
Medina. Neither the title nor estates of the Marquess Francisco
descended to his illegitimate offspring. But in the third generation, in the
reign of Philip the Fourth, the title was revived in favor of Don Juan
Hernando Pizarro, who, out of gratitude for the services of his ancestor,
was created Marquess of the Conquest, Marques de la Conquista, with a
liberal pension from government. His descendants, bearing the same
title of nobility, are still to be found, it is said, at Truxillo, in the ancient
province of Estremadura, the original birthplace of the Pizarros.21
Pizarro's person has been already described. He was tall in stature, well-
proportioned, and with a countenance not unpleasing. Bred in camps,
with nothing of the polish of a court, he had a soldier-like bearing, and
the air of one accustomed to command. But though not polished, there
was no embarrassment or rusticity in his address, which, where it served
his purpose, could be plausible and even insinuating. The proof of it is
the favorable impression made by him, on presenting himself, after his
second expedition--stranger as he was to all its forms and usages--at the
punctilious court of Castile.
Unlike many of his countrymen, he had no passion for ostentatious dress,
which he regarded as an incumbrance. The costume which he most
affected on public occasions was a black cloak, with a white hat, and
shoes of the same color; the last, it is said, being in imitation of the Great
Captain, whose character he had early learned to admire in Italy, but to
which his own, certainly, bore very faint resemblance.22
He was temperate in eating, drank sparingly, and usually rose an hour
before dawn. He was punctual in attendance to business, and shrunk
from no toil. He had, indeed, great powers of patient endurance. Like
most of his nation, he was fond of play, and cared little for the quality of
those with whom he played; though, when his antagonist could not afford
to lose, he would allow himself, it is said, to be the loser; a mode of
conferring an obligation much commended by a Castilian writer, for its
delicacy.23
Though avaricious, it was in order to spend and not to hoard. His ample
treasures, more ample than those, probably, that ever before fell to the
lot of an adventurer,24 were mostly dissipated in his enterprises, his
architectural works, and schemes of public improvement, which, in a
country where gold and silver might be said to have lost their value from
their abundance, absorbed an incredible amount of money. While he
regarded the whole country, in a manner, as his own, and distributed it
freely among his captains, it is certain that the princely grant of a
territory with twenty thousand vassals, made to him by the Crown, was
never carried into effect; nor did his heirs ever reap the benefit of it.25
To a man possessed of the active energies of Pizarro, sloth was the
greatest evil. The excitement of play was in a manner necessary to a
spirit accustomed to the habitual stimulants of war and adventure. His
uneducated mind had no relish for more refined, intellectual recreation.
The deserted foundling had neither been taught to read nor write. This
has been disputed by some, but it is attested by unexceptionable
authorities.26 Montesinos says, indeed, that Pizarro, on his first voyage,
tried to learn to read; but the impatience of his temper prevented it, and
he contented himself with learning to sign his name.27 But Montesinos
was not a contemporary historian. Pedro Pizarro, his companion in
arms, expressly tells us he could neither read nor write;28 and Zarate,
another contemporary, well acquainted with the Conquerors, confirms
this statement, and adds, that Pizarro could not so much as sign his
name.29 This was done by his secretary--Picado, in his latter years-
while the governor merely made the customary rubrica or flourish at the
sides of his name. This is the case with the instruments I have examined,
in which his signature, written probably by his secretary, or his title of
Marques, in later life substituted for his name, is garnished with a
flourish at the ends, executed in as bungling a manner as if done by the
hand of a ploughman. Yet we must not estimate this deficiency as we
should in this period of general illumination,--general, at least, in our
own fortunate country. Reading and writing, so universal now, in the
beginning of the sixteenth century might be regarded in the light of
accomplishments; and all who have occasion to consult the autograph
memorials of that time will find the execution of them, even by persons
of the highest rank, too often such as would do little credit to a
schoolboy of the present day.
Though bold in action and not easily turned from his purpose, Pizarro
was slow in arriving at a decision. This gave him an appearance of
irresolution foreign to his character.30 Perhaps the consciousness of this
led him to adopt the custom of saying "No," at first, to applicants for
favor; and afterwards, at leisure, to revise his judgment, and grant what
seemed to him expedient. He took the opposite course from his comrade
Almagro, who, it was observed, generally said "Yes," but too often failed
to keep his promise. This was characteristic of the careless and easy
nature of the latter, governed by impulse rather than principle.31
It is hardly necessary to speak of the courage of a man pledged to such a
career as that of Pizarro. Courage, indeed, was a cheap quality among
the Spanish adventurers, for danger was their element. But he possessed
something higher than mere animal courage, in that constancy of purpose
which was rooted too deeply in his nature to be shaken by the wildest
storms of fortune. It was this inflexible constancy which formed the key
to his character, and constituted the secret of his success. A remarkable
evidence of it was given in his first expedition, among the mangroves
and dreary marshes of Choco. He saw his followers pining around him
under the blighting malaria, wasting before an invisible enemy, and
unable to strike a stroke in their own defence. Yet his spirit did not
yield, nor did he falter in his enterprise.
There is something oppressive to the imagination in this war against
nature. In the struggle of man against man, the spirits are raised by a
contest conducted on equal terms; but in a war with the elements, we
feel, that, however bravely we may contend, we can have no power to
control. Nor are we cheered on by the prospect of glory in such a
contest; for, in the capricious estimate of human glory, the silent
endurance of privations, however painful, is little, in comparison with the
ostentatious trophies of victory. The laurel of the hero---alas for
humanity that it should be so!--grows best on the battle-field.
This inflexible spirit of Pizarro was shown still more strongly, when, in
the little island of Gallo, he drew the line on the sand, which was to
separate him and his handful of followers from their country and from
civilized man. He trusted that his own constancy would give strength to
the feeble, and rally brave hearts around him for the prosecution of his
enterprise. He looked with confidence to the future, and he did not
miscalculate. This was heroic, and wanted only a nobler motive for its
object to constitute the true moral sublime.
Yet the same feature in his character was displayed in a manner scarcely
less remarkable, when, landing on the coast, and ascertaining the real
strength and civilization of the Incas, he persisted in marching into the
interior at the head of a force of less than two hundred men. In this he
undoubtedly proposed to himself the example of Cortes, so contagious to
the adventurous spirits of that day, and especially to Pizarro, engaged, as
he was, in a similar enterprise. Yet the hazard assumed by Pizarro was
far greater than that of the Conqueror of Mexico, whose force was nearly
three times as large, while the terrors of the Inca name--however justified
by the result--were as widely spread as those of the Aztecs.
It was doubtless in imitation of the same captivating model, that Pizarro
planned the seizure of Atahuallpa. But the situations of the two Spanish
captains were as dissimilar as the manner in which their acts of violence
were conducted. The wanton massacre of the Peruvians resembled that
perpetrated by Alvarado in Mexico, and might have been attended with
consequences as disastrous, if the Peruvian character had been as fierce
as that of the Aztecs.32 But the blow which roused the latter to madness
broke the tamer spirits of the Peruvians. It was a bold stroke, which left
so much to chance, that it scarcely merits the name of policy.
When Pizarro landed in the country, he found it distracted by a contest
for the crown. It would seem to have been for his interest to play off one
party against the other, throwing his own weight into the scale that suited
him. Instead of this, he resorted to an act of audacious violence which
crushed them both at a blow. His subsequent career afforded no scope
for the profound policy displayed by Cortes, when he gathered
conflicting nations under his banner, and directed them against a
common foe. Still less did he have the opportunity of displaying the
tactics and admirable strategy of his rival. Cortes conducted his military
operations on the scientific principles of a great captain at the head of a
powerful host. Pizarro appears only as an adventurer, a fortunate knight-
errant. By one bold stroke, he broke the spell which had so long held the
land under the dominion of the Incas. The spell was broken, and the airy
fabric of their empire, built on the superstition of ages, vanished at a
touch. This was good fortune, rather than the result of policy.
Pizarro was eminently perfidious, Yet nothing is more opposed to sound
policy. One act of perfidy fully established becomes the ruin of its
author. The man who relinquishes confidence in his good faith gives up
the best basis for future operations. Who will knowingly build on a
quicksand? By his perfidious treatment of Almagro, Pizarro alienated the
minds of the Spaniards. By his perfidious treatment of Atahuallpa, and
subsequently of the Inca Manco, he disgusted the Peruvians. The name
of Pizarro became a by-word for perfidy. Almagro took his revenge in a
civil war; Manco in an insurrection which nearly cost Pizarro his
dominion. The civil war terminated in a conspiracy which cost him his
life. Such were the fruits of his policy. Pizarro may be regarded as a
cunning man; but not, as he has been often eulogized by his countrymen,
as a politic one.
When Pizarro obtained possession of Cuzco, he found a country well
advanced in the arts of civilization; institutions under which the people
lived in tranquillity and personal safety; the mountains and the uplands
whitened with flocks; the valleys teeming with the fruits of a scientific
husbandry; the granaries and warehouses filled to overflowing; the whole
land rejoicing in its abundance; and the character of the nation, softened
under the influence of the mildest and most innocent form of
superstition, well prepared for the reception of a higher and a Christian
civilization. But, far from introducing this, Pizarro delivered up the
conquered races to his brutal soldiery; the sacred cloisters were
abandoned to their lust; the towns and villages were given up to pillage;
the wretched natives were parcelled out like slaves, to toil for their
conquerors in the mines; the flocks were scattered, and wantonly
destroyed, the granaries were dissipated; the beautiful contrivances for
the more perfect culture of the soil were suffered to fall into decay; the
paradise was converted into a desert. Instead of profiting by the ancient
forms of civilization, Pizarro preferred to efface every vestige of them
from the land, and on their ruin to erect the institutions of his own
country. Yet these institutions did little for the poor Indian, held in iron
bondage. It was little to him that the shores of the Pacific were studded
with rising communities and cities, the marts of a flourishing commerce.
He had no share in the goodly heritage. He was an alien in the land of
his fathers.
The religion of the Peruvian, which directed him to the worship of that
glorious luminary which is the best representative of the might and
beneficence of the Creator, is perhaps the purest form of superstition that
has existed among men. Yet it was much, that, under the new order of
things, and through the benevolent zeal of the missionaries, some
glimmerings of a nobler faith were permitted to dawn on his darkened
soul. Pizarro, himself, cannot be charged with manifesting any
overweening solicitude for the propagation of the Faith. He was no
bigot, like Cortes. Bigotry is the perversion of the religious principle;
but the principle itself was wanting in Pizarro. The conversion of the
heathen was a predominant motive with Cortes in his expedition. It was
not a vain boast. He would have sacrificed his life for it at any time; and
more than once, by his indiscreet seal, he actually did place his life and
the success of his enterprise in jeopardy. It was his great purpose to
purify the land from the brutish abominations of the Aztecs, by
substituting the religion of Jesus. This gave to his expedition the
character of a crusade. It furnished the best apology for the Conquest,
and does more than all other considerations towards enlisting our
sympathies on the side of the conquerors.
But Pizarro's ruling motives, so far as they can be scanned by human
judgment, were avarice and ambition. The good missionaries, indeed,
followed in his train to scatter the seeds of spiritual truth, and the
Spanish government, as usual, directed its beneficent legislation to the
conversion of the natives. But the moving power with Pizarro and his
followers was the lust of gold. This was the real stimulus to their toil,
the price of perfidy, the true guerdon of their victories. This gave a base
and mercenary character to their enterprise; and when we contrast the
ferocious cupidity of the conquerors with the mild and inoffensive
manners of the conquered, our sympathies, the sympathies even of the
Spaniard, are necessarily thrown into the scale of the Indian.33
But as no picture is without its lights, we must not, in justice to Pizarro,
dwell exclusively on the darker features of his portrait. There was no
one of her sons to whom Spain was under larger obligations for extent of
empire; for his hand won for her the richest of the Indian jewels that
once sparkled in her imperial diadem. When we contemplate the perils
he braved, the sufferings he patiently endured, the incredible obstacles
he overcame, the magnificent results he effected with his single arm, as it
were, unaided by the government,--though neither a good, nor a great
man in the highest sense of that term, it is impossible not to regard him
as a very extraordinary one.
Nor can we fairly omit to notice, in extenuation of his errors, the
circumstances of his early life; for, like Almagro, he was the son of sin
and sorrow, early cast upon the world to seek his fortunes as he might.
In his young and tender age he was to take the impression of those into
whose society he was thrown. And when was it the lot of the needy
outcast to fall into that of the wise and the virtuous? His lot was cast
among the licentious inmates of a camp, the school of rapine, whose only
law was the sword, and who looked on the wretched Indian and his
heritage as their rightful spoil.
Who does not shudder at the thought of what his own fate might have
been, trained in such a school? The amount of crime does not necessarily
show the criminality of the agent. History, indeed, is concerned with the
former, that it may be recorded as a warning to mankind; but it is He
alone who knoweth the heart, the strength of the temptations and the
means of resisting it, that can determine the measure of the guilt.