Fears of Pizarro. Honorable
Conduct of the Inca. The March to
Caxamarca. Hospitable Reception. Perfidious
Attack upon the Inca. His Capture
and Imprisonment. The Honor of De Soto. The
Offered Ransom. Treachery and Extortion
of Pizarro.
The report which De Soto brought back
was in many respects quite alarming to the Pizarros.
Though they were delighted to hear of the wealth which
had been discovered, and the golden ornaments decorating
houses, temples and shrines, they were not a little
alarmed in the contemplation of the large population
over which the Inca reigned, and of the power of his
government. The spectacle of the gallows also
at Guancabama, caused very uncomfortable sensations.
Both of these men were aware that
they and their troops had committed crimes which would
doom them to the scaffold, should the Inca be able
to punish them according to their deserts. Indeed
it subsequently appeared, that the Inca had heard
of their outrages. But with humanity and a sense
of justice which reflects lustre upon his name, he
had resolved not to punish them unheard in their own
defence. He knew not but that false representations
had been made of the facts. He knew not but that
the Spaniards had been goaded to acts of retaliation
by outrages on the part of the Peruvians.
He therefore invited the Spanish adventurers
to meet him at Caxamarca, assuring them of a safe
passage to that place. With fear and trembling
Pizarro consented, with his little band of two hundred
and fifty men, to visit the Peruvian camp, where fifty
thousand soldiers might be arrayed against him.
The path they were to traverse led through defiles
of the mountains, where a few hundred men could arrest
the march of an army. The Spaniards afterwards
could not but admit, that had the Inca cherished any
perfidious design, he might with the utmost ease have
utterly exterminated them. Not a man could have
escaped.
The march of these trembling men was
not with the triumphant tramp of conquerors.
They did not enter the Peruvian camp with flourish
of trumpets and bugle blasts, but as peaceful ambassadors,
with a showy retinue, who had been permitted to traverse
the country unharmed. The sun was just sinking
behind the rugged peaks of the mountains on the fifteenth
of November, 1532, when Pizarro’s band rode into
the streets of Caxamarca. In the centre of the
town there was a large public square. On one
side of that square was a spacious stone edifice, which
the Inca had caused to be prepared for the accommodation
of his guests. This building was a part of a
strong fortress, within whose massive walls, a small
party of well armed men might easily defend themselves
against a host.
The fact that Attahuallapa assigned
to them such quarters, proves conclusively that he
had no intention to treat them otherwise than in the
most friendly manner. The Inca, with the troops
immediately under his command, was encamped at a distance
of about three miles from the town. The treacherous
Pizarro was ever apprehensive of treachery on the
part of others. He was an entire stranger to that
calm and peaceful courage which seemed always to reign
in the bosom of De Soto.
Immediately after he reached Caxamarca
he dispatched De Soto to inform the Inca of his arrival.
The Peruvian camp covered several acres of ground,
with substantial and commodious tents. In the
centre there was truly a magnificent pavilion, gorgeous
in its decorations, which was appropriated to the
Inca. Attahuallapa was informed of the approach
of the Spanish cavaliers. He came from his tent
and took his seat upon a splendid throne prepared
for the occasion. The Peruvian soldiers gazed
with amazement upon the spectacle of these horsemen
as they were led into the presence of their sovereign.
De Soto, with the native grace which
attended all his actions, alighted from his horse,
bowed respectfully to the monarch, and said in words
which were interpreted by Filipillo.
“I am sent by my commander,
Don Francisco Pizarro, who desires to be admitted
to your presence, to give you an account of the causes
which have brought him to this country, and other
matters which it may behoove your majesty to know.
He humbly entreats you to allow him an interview this
night or to-morrow, as he wishes to make you an offer
of his services, and to deliver the message which has
been committed to him by his sovereign, the king of
Spain.”
Attahuallapa replied with much dignity
and some apparent reserve, that he cordially accepted
the friendly offers of Pizarro, and would grant him
the desired interview the following morning. The
Inca was a young man about thirty years of age.
He was tall, admirably formed, and with a very handsome
countenance. But there was an expression of sadness
overspreading his features, and a pensive tone in his
address, indicating that he was a man who had seen
affliction.
The splendid steed from which De Soto
had alighted was restlessly pawing the ground at a
short distance from the tent of the Inca, attracting
the particular attention and admiration of the sovereign.
De Soto, perceiving the admiration which his steed
elicited, remounted, and touching the spirited animal
with the spur, went bounding with almost the speed
of the wind over the level plain, causing his horse
now to rear, and now to plunge, wheeling him around,
and thus exhibiting his excellent qualities. He
then came down at full speed to the spot where the
Inca stood, until within a few feet of the monarch,
when he checked his horse so suddenly as to throw him
back upon his haunches. Some of the attendants
of the Inca were evidently alarmed; but the Inca himself
stood proudly immovable. He reproved his attendants
for their timidity; and Mr. Prescott, who represents
Attahuallapa as a very cruel man, intimates that he
put some of them to death that evening for betraying
such weakness before the strangers. Refreshments
were offered to De Soto and his party, and a sort
of wine was presented to them in golden cups, of extraordinary
size.
As De Soto, having fulfilled his mission,
was about to leave the royal presence and return to
Caxamarca, Attahuallapa said:
“Tell your companions, that
as I am keeping a fast, I cannot to-day accept their
invitation. I will come to them to-morrow.
I may be attended by a large and armed retinue.
But let not that give you any uneasiness. I wish
to cultivate your friendship and that of your king.
I have already given ample proof that no harm is intended
you, though your captain, I am told, mistrusts me.
If you think it will please him better, I will come
with few attendants and those unarmed.”
De Soto warmly assured the Inca that
no man could doubt his sincerity, and begged him to
consult his own taste entirely in reference to the
manner in which he would approach the Spaniards.
Upon the return of the cavalier to
Pizarro, with an account of the interview, that perfidious
chieftain proposed to his men, that they should seize
the Inca and hold him in captivity as a hostage.
Mr. Prescott, in his account of this infamous procedure,
speaks of it in the following apologetic terms:
“Pizarro then summoned a council
of his officers, to consider the plan of operations,
or rather to propose to them the extraordinary
plan on which he had himself decided. This was
to lay an ambuscade for the Inca, and take him
prisoner in the face of his whole army. It
was a project full of peril, bordering as it might
well seem on desperation. But the circumstances
of the Spaniards were desperate. Whichever way
they turned they were menaced by the most appalling
dangers. And better was it to confront the
danger, than weakly to shrink from it when there
was no avenue for escape. To fly was now
too late. Whither could they fly? At the
first signal of retreat the whole army of the
Inca would be upon them. Their movements
would be anticipated by a foe far better acquainted
with the intricacies of the Sierra than themselves;
the passes would be occupied, and they would be hemmed
in on all sides; while the mere fact of this retrograde
movement would diminish the confidence and with it
the effective strength of his own men, while it
doubled that of the enemy.”
The next morning was Saturday, the
16th of November, 1532. The sun rose in a cloudless
sky, and great preparations were made by the Inca
to display his grandeur and his power to his not very
welcome guests. A large retinue preceded and
followed the monarch, while a courier was sent forward
to inform Pizarro of his approach. The Inca, habited
in a dress which was glittering with gems and gold,
was seated in a gorgeous open palanquin, borne upon
the shoulders of many of his nobles.
It was five o’clock in the afternoon,
when the Inca, accompanied by a small but unarmed
retinue, entered the public square of the city.
The tents of his troops left outside, spread far and
wide over the meadows, indicating the presence of
an immense host. The Inca was clothed in a flowing
robe of scarlet, woven of the finest wool, and almost
entirely covered with golden stars and the most precious
gems. His head was covered with a turban of variegated
colors, to which there was suspended a scarlet fringe,
the badge of royalty. The palanquin, or throne,
on which he was seated, was apparently of pure gold;
and the cushion upon which he sat was covered with
the most costly gems. His nobles were also dressed
in the highest possible style of Peruvian wealth and
art. It was estimated that the number of the
nobles and officers of the court who accompanied the
king into the square, was about two thousand.
A large company of priests was also in attendance,
who chanted the Peruvian National Hymn.
It is very difficult for an honest
mind to form any just conception of such a religious
fanatic, and such an irreligious wretch as this Francisco
Pizarro. Just before the Peruvians arrived he
had attended a solemn mass, in which the aid of the
God of the Christians was fervently implored in behalf
of their enterprise. The mass was closed with
chanting one of the psalms of David, in which God is
called upon to arise and come to judgment. Friar
Vincent, who was Pizarro’s spiritual adviser,
and grand chaplain of the so-called Christian army,
was then sent forward with the Bible in one hand and
a crucifix in the other, to expound to the Inca the
doctrines of the Christian faith, stating that it
was for that purpose, and for that only, that the
Spaniards had come into the country.
So far as we can judge from the uncertain
records which have reached us, the views he presented
were what are called evangelical, though highly imbued
with the claims of the Papal Church. He described
the creation of man, his fall, the atonement by the
crucifixion of the Son of God, his ascension, leaving
Peter and his successors, as his vicegerents upon
earth. Invested with this divine power, one of
his successors, the present Pope, had commissioned
Pizarro to visit Peru, to conquer and convert the
natives to the true faith.
The Inca listened attentively to the
arguments of the priest, but was apparently unmoved
by them. He calmly replied:
“I acknowledge that there is
but one God, the maker of all things. As for
the Pope, I know him not. He must be insane to
give away that which does not belong to him.
The king of Spain is doubtless a great monarch, and
I wish to make him my friend, but I cannot become his
vassal.”
A few more words were interchanged,
when the priest returned into the stone fortress,
where Pizarro stood surrounded by his soldiers.
The priest reported the conversation which had taken
place; declared that the Inca, in the pride of his
heart, had rejected Christianity. He therefore
announced to Pizarro that he was authorized by the
divine law, to make war upon the Inca and his people.
“Go set on them at once,”
said he; “spare them not; kill these dogs which
so stubbornly despise the law of God. I absolve
you.”
The extraordinary scene which then
ensued cannot perhaps be better described than in
the language of Mr. Prescott:
“Pizarro saw that the hour had
come. He waved a white scarf in the air,
the appointed signal. The fatal gun was fired
from the fortress. Then springing into the
square, the Spanish captain and his followers
shouted the old war cry of ‘St. Jago, and
at them!’ It was answered by the battle cry of
every Spaniard in the city, as rushing from the
avenues of the great halls in which they were
concealed, they poured into the Plaza, horse and
foot, and threw themselves into the midst of the
Indian crowd.
“The latter, taken by surprise,
stunned by the reports of artillery and musketry,
the echoes of which reverberated like thunder
from the surrounding buildings, and blinded by the
smoke which rolled in sulphurous volumes along
the square, were seized with a panic. They
knew not whither to fly for refuge from the coming
ruin. Nobles and commoners all were trampled
down under the fierce charge of the cavalry, who dealt
their blows right and left, without sparing; while
their swords, flashing through the thick gloom,
carried dismay into the hearts of the wretched
natives, who now, for the first time, saw the
horse and his rider in all their terrors.
They made no resistance, as indeed they had no weapons
with which to resist.
“Every avenue to escape was closed,
for the entrance to the square was choked up with
the dead bodies of men who had perished in vain
efforts to fly. And such was the agony of the
survivors, under the terrible pressure of their assailants,
that a large body of Indians, by their convulsive
struggles, burst through the wall of stone and
dried clay, which formed the boundary of the Plaza.
It fell, leaving an opening of more than a hundred
paces, through which multitudes now found their
way into the country, still hotly pursued by the
cavalry, who, leaping the piles of rubbish, hung
on the rear of the fugitives, striking them down in
all directions.
“There were two great objects
in view in this massacre. One was to strike
terror into the heart of the Peruvians; the other
was to obtain possession of the person of the Inca.
It seems that the nobles regarded their sovereign
with almost idolatrous homage. They rallied
thickly around him, placed their own bodies between
him and the sabres of their assailants, and made
frantic endeavors to tear the cavaliers from their
saddles. Unfortunately they were unarmed, and
had neither arrows, javelins nor war clubs.
The Inca sat helpless in his palanquin, quite
bewildered by the awful storm of war which had
thus suddenly burst around him. In the swaying
of the mighty mass, the litter heaved to and fro,
like a ship in a storm.”
At length several of the nobles who
supported it being slain, the palanquin was overthrown,
and the Inca, as he was falling to the ground, was
caught by the Spaniards. In the confusion of the
affray, Pizarro was slightly wounded in the hand by
one of his own men. This was the only hurt received
by any Spaniard during the bloody affray.
The Inca being captured, the conflict
in the square ceased. But there was another object
in view, as has been stated, and that was to strike
terror into the hearts of the Peruvians. Consequently
the steel-clad cavaliers pursued the fugitives in
all directions, cutting them down without mercy.
Night, which followed the short twilight of the tropics,
put an end to the carnage, and the trumpets of Pizarro
recalled the soldiers, wiping their dripping sabres,
to their fortress. The number slain is variously
estimated. The secretary of Pizarro says that
two thousand fell. A Peruvian annalist swells
the number of victims to ten thousand.
Attahuallapa, the monarch of the great
kingdom of Peru, thus suddenly found himself a prisoner
in one of his own fortresses; surrounded by a band
of stern warriors, who had penetrated the heart of
his empire from a distance of more than two thousand
leagues. Pizarro treated the unhappy king with
respect, and testifies to the dignity with which he
met his awful reverses. What part De Soto took
in the outrages just described, cannot now be known.
He had unquestionably in good faith, and as an honorable
man, invited the Inca to visit Caxamarca, by which
invitation he had been enticed into the power of the
Spaniards.
There is evidence that De Soto had
no idea of the treachery which was intended, for it
was not until after he had left on his visit to the
Peruvian camp that the plot was formed for the seizure
of the Inca. Pizarro had two bodies of horsemen.
One was commanded by his brother Hernando, and the
other by De Soto. There were thirty dragoons in
each band. Unquestionably, Hernando was a very
eager participant in the horrors of this day.
It may be that De Soto, from the roof of the fortress,
was an inactive spectator of the scene. It does
not seem possible that with the character he had heretofore
developed, he could have lent his own strong arm and
those of his horsemen to the perpetration of a crime
so atrocious. Still military discipline is a
terrible power. It sears the conscience and hardens
the heart. The fact that De Soto was present
and that there are no evidences of remonstrances on
his part, has left a stigma upon his character which
time cannot efface.
The next morning these Spaniards,
so zealous for the propagation of the Christian faith,
unmindful of their professed Christian mission, betook
themselves, with all alacrity, to the work of pillage.
The golden throne, and the royal wardrobe, were of
very great value. The nobles were clad in their
richest garments of state, and the ground was strewn
with bodies of the dead, glittering in robes of gold
and gems. Having stripped the dead, they then
entered the houses and temples of Caxamarca and loaded
themselves down with golden vases, and other booty
of great value. As one suggestive item, which
reveals the conduct of these brutal men, the good
Las Casas states, that a Spanish soldier seized a
young Peruvian girl. When the mother rushed to
rescue her child, he cut off her arm with his sword,
and then in his rage hewed the maiden to pieces.
Pizarro now assumed the proud title
of “The Conqueror of Peru.” With
the sovereign as his prisoner, and elated by his great
victory, he felt that there was no resistance that
he had to fear. It seems that Attahuallapa had
penetration enough to discern that De Soto was a very
different man in character from the Pizarros.
He soon became quite cordial and unreserved in his
intercourse with him. And there is no evidence
that De Soto ever, in the slightest degree, betrayed
his confidence. One day the Inca inquired of
De Soto for what amount of ransom Pizarro would be
willing to release him. De Soto was well aware
of the timidity and avarice of the captain. The
love of the Peruvians for their sovereign was such,
that Pizarro was confident that so long as Attahuallapa
was in his power, they would not make war upon him.
De Soto felt therefore that there was no prospect
that Pizarro would release his captive for any ransom
whatever, and sadly advised him to resign all such
hope. The Inca was greatly distressed. After
a few moments of silence, he said:
“My friend, do not deprive me
of the only hope that can make life supportable.
I must be free, or I must die. Your commander
loves gold above all things. Surely I can purchase
my liberty from him at some price, and however unreasonable
it may be, I am willing to satisfy his demand.
Tell me, I entreat of you, what sum you think will
be sufficient?”
For a moment De Soto made no reply.
They were sitting in a room, according to the statement
of Pizarro’s secretary, twenty-two feet long
and seventeen feet broad. Then turning to the
Inca, and wishing to impress his mind with the conviction
that there was not any ransom which could effect his
release, he said:
“If you could fill this room
with gold as high as I can reach with my sword, Pizarro
might perhaps accept it as your ransom.”
“It shall be done,” the
Inca eagerly replied. “And I beg you to
let Pizarro know, that within a month from this day,
my part of the contract shall be fulfilled.”
De Soto was troubled, for he had not
intended that as an offer, but rather as a statement
of an impossibility. He however felt bound to
report the proposition to Pizarro. Much to his
surprise the avaricious captain readily accepted it.
The contract was drawn up, and Pizarro gave his solemn
pledge that upon the delivery of the gold the prison
doors of the captive should be thrown open. But
after the terms had all been settled, the perfidious
Spaniard craved a still higher ransom, and declared
that he would not release his victim unless another
room of equal size was equally filled with silver.
Attahuallapa could fully appreciate
such dishonorable conduct; for in all moral qualities
he seems to have been decidedly superior to his Spanish
antagonist. But without any undignified murmurs,
he submitted to this extortion also. Matters
being thus arranged, De Soto, with his characteristic
plain dealing, said to Pizarro:
“I hope you will remember, Don
Francisco, that my honor is pledged for the strict
fulfilment of the contract on the part of the Spaniards.
Observe, therefore, that as soon as the gold and the
silver are produced, Attahuallapa must have his liberty.”