Dreadful Fate of Chalcukima. ­His Fortitude. ­Ignominy of Pizarro. ­De Soto’s Advance upon Cuzco. ­The Peruvian Highway. ­Battle in the Defile. ­De Soto takes the Responsibility. ­Capture of the Capital and its Conflagration. ­De Soto’s Return to Spain. ­His Reception there. ­Preparations for the Conquest of Florida.

Considering the relations which existed between De Soto and Pizarro, it is not improbable that each was glad to be released from the presence of the other.  It is very certain that so soon as De Soto was gone, Pizarro, instead of hurrying forward to support him in the hazardous encounters to which he was exposed, immediately engaged, with the main body of his army, in plundering all the mansions of the wealthy and the temples on their line of march.  And it is equally certain that De Soto, instead of waiting for the troops of Pizarro to come up, put spurs to his horse and pressed on, as if he were anxious to place as great a distance as possible between himself and his superior in command.

Though De Soto had allowed his troops to plunder the temple of Xauxa, he would allow no robbery of private dwellings, and rigidly prohibited the slightest act of violence or injustice towards the persons of the natives.

It will be remembered that Pizarro had threatened to hold Chalcukima responsible for any act of hostility on the part of the Peruvians.  He now summoned his captive before him, and charged him with treason; accusing him of having incited his countrymen to measures of resistance.  Chalcukima, with dignity and firmness which indicate a noble character, replied: 

“If it had been possible for me to communicate with the people, I should certainly have advised them to do their duty to their country, without any regard to my personal safety.  But you well know that the vigilance with which you have guarded me, has prevented me from making any communication of the kind.  I am sorry that it has not been in my power to be guilty of the fact with which you charge me.”

The wretched Pizarro, utterly incapable of appreciating the grandeur of such a character, ordered him to be burned at the stake.  The fanatic robber and murderer, insulting the cross of Christ, by calling himself a Christian, sent his private chaplain, Friar Vincent, to convert Chalcukima to what he called the Christian faith.  The priest gave an awful description of the glooms of hell, to which the prisoner was destined as a heathen.  In glowing colors he depicted the splendors of the celestial Eden, to which he would be admitted the moment after his execution if he would accept the Christian faith.  The captive coldly replied: 

“I do not understand your religion, and all that I have seen of it does not impress me in its favor.”

He was led to the stake.  Not a cry escaped his lips, as the fierce flames consumed his quivering flesh.  From that scene of short, sharp agony, we trust that his spirit ascended to be folded in the embrace of his Heavenly Father.  It is a fundamental principle in the teachings of Jesus, that in every nation he that feareth God, and doeth righteousness, is accepted of him.  But God’s ways here on earth are indeed past all finding out.  Perhaps the future will solve the dreadful mystery, but at present, as we contemplate man’s inhumanity to man, our eyes are often blinded with tears, and our hearts sink despairingly within us.

De Soto pressed rapidly onwards, league after league, over sublime éminences and through luxuriant vales.  The road was admirable:  smooth and clean as a floor.  It was constructed only for foot passengers, as the Peruvians had no animals larger than the lama or sheep.  This advance-guard of the Spanish army, all well mounted, and inspired by the energies of their impetuous chief, soon reached a point where the road led over a mountain by steps cut in the solid rock, steep as a flight of stairs.  Precipitous cliffs rose hundreds of feet on either side.  Here it was necessary for the troopers to dismount, and carefully to lead their horses by the bit up the difficult ascent.

The road was winding and irregular, leading through the most savage scenery.  This pass, at its summit, opened upon smooth table-land, luxuriant and beautiful under the influence of a tropical sun and mountain showers and dews.  About half way up this pass, upon almost inaccessible crags, several thousand Peruvians had assembled to make another attempt at resistance.  Arrows and javelins were of but little avail.  Indeed they always rebounded from the armor of the Spaniards as from the ledges of eternal rock.

But the natives had abundantly provided themselves with enormous stones to roll down upon the heads of men and horses.  Quite a band of armed men were also assembled upon the open plain at the head of the pass.  As the Spaniards were almost dragging their horses up the gorge, suddenly the storm of war burst upon them.  Showers of stone descended from the cliff from thousands of unseen hands.  Huge boulders were pried over and went thundering down, crashing all opposition before them.  It seems now incomprehensible why the whole squadron of horsemen was not destroyed.  But in this awful hour the self-possession of De Soto did not for one moment forsake him.  He shouted to his men: 

“If we halt here, or attempt to go back, we must certainly perish.  Our only safety is in pressing forward.  As soon as we reach the top of the pass, we can easily put these men to flight.”

Suiting his action to his words, and being at the head of his men, he pushed forward with almost frantic energy, carefully watching and avoiding the descending missiles.  Though several horses and many men were killed, and others sorely wounded, the majority soon reached the head of the pass.  They then had an unobstructed plain before them, over which their horses could gallop in any direction at their utmost speed.

Impetuously they fell upon the band collected there, who wielded only the impotent weapons of arrows, javelins and war clubs.  The Spaniards, exasperated by the death of their comrades, and by their own wounds, took desperate vengeance.  No quarter was shown.  Their sabres dripped with blood.  Few could escape the swift-footed steeds.  The dead were trampled beneath iron hoofs.  Night alone ended the carnage.

During the night the Peruvians bravely rallied from their wide dispersion over the mountains, resolved in their combined force to make another attempt to resist their foes.  They were conscious that should they fail here, their case was hopeless.

At the commencement of the conflict a courier had been sent back, by De Soto, to urge Almagro to push forward his infantry as rapidly as possible.  By a forced march they pressed on through the hours of the night, almost upon the run.  The early dawn brought them to the pass.  Soon the heart of De Soto was cheered as he heard their bugle blasts reverberating among the cliffs of the mountains.  Their banners appeared emerging from the defile, and two hundred well-armed men joined his ranks.

Though the Peruvians were astonished at this accession to the number of their foes, they still came bravely forward to the battle.  It was another scene of slaughter for the poor Peruvians.  They inflicted but little harm upon the Spaniards, while hundreds of their slain soon strewed the ground.

The Spanish infantry, keeping safely beyond the reach of arrow or javelin, could, with the deadly bullet, bring down a Peruvian as fast as they could load and fire, while the horsemen could almost with impunity plunge into the densest ranks of the foe.  The Peruvians were vanquished, dispersed, and cut down, until the Spaniards even were weary with carnage.  This was the most important battle which was fought in the conquest of Peru.

The field was but twenty-five miles from the capital, to which the army could now advance by an almost unobstructed road.  De Soto was anxious to press on immediately and take possession of the city.  He however yielded to the earnest entreaties of Almagro, and consented to remain where he was with his band of marauders.  This delay, in a military point of view, proved to be very unfortunate.  Had they gone immediately forward, the vanquished and panic-stricken Peruvians would not have ventured upon another encounter.  But Almagro was the friend of Pizarro, dependent upon him, and had been his accomplice in many a deed of violence.  He was anxious that Pizarro should have the renown of a conqueror, and should enjoy the triumph of riding at the head of his troops into the streets of the vanquished capital.

This delay of several days gave the Peruvians time to recover from their consternation, and they organized another formidable line of defense in a valley which the Spaniards would be compelled to traverse, a few miles from the city.  Pizarro was still several miles in the rear.  De Soto dispatched a courier to him, informing him of the new encounter to which the army was exposed, and stating that the Peruvians were well posted, and that every hour of delay added to their strength.  Still Pizarro loitered behind; still Almagro expressed his decided reluctance to advance before Pizarro’s arrival.  To add to De Soto’s embarrassments, he declared that De Soto was acting without authority and in direct opposition to the orders of his superior.  After a little hesitancy De Soto resolved to take the responsibility and to advance.  He said to Almagro: 

“A soldier who is entrusted with an important command, is not bound in all cases to await the orders of his superior.  Where there is manifestly an important advantage to be gained, he must be allowed to act according to his own discretion.”

He then appealed to his own dragoons, saying to them: 

“The whole success of our expedition now depends upon the celerity of our movements.  While we are waiting for Pizarro, our best chance for victory will be lost.”

With one united voice the dragoons of De Soto demanded to be led forward.  Availing himself of this enthusiasm, De Soto put his troops in motion.  The Peruvians were a few miles in advance, strongly posted in a deep and rugged ravine, where they hoped that the movements of the horses would be so impeded that they could accomplish but little.  They pressed forward, and the battle was immediately commenced.  Both parties fought with great fury.  In the midst of the conflict a large reinforcement of the natives came rushing upon the field, under the leadership of a young Peruvian noble, who displayed truly chivalric courage and energy.  De Soto was ever where the blows fell thickest and where danger was most imminent.

Quite a number of the Peruvians were slain, and many dead horses were strewed over the field.  At one time De Soto, separated from his comrades by the surging tides of the battle, found himself surrounded by twenty Peruvians, who, with arrows, javelins and battle clubs, assailed him with the utmost impetuosity.  Javelins and arrows glanced harmless from the Spanish armor.  But war clubs, armed with copper and wielded by sinewy arms, were formidable weapons even for the belted knight to encounter.  De Soto, with his keen and ponderous sword, cut his way through his assailants, strewing the ground with the dead.  The young Peruvian, who, it is said, was heir to the throne of the Inca, had assumed the general command.

He gazed with astonishment upon the exploits of De Soto, and said in despairing tones to his attendants:  “It is useless to contend with such enemies!  These men are destined to be our masters.”

Immediately he approached De Soto, throwing down his arms, advancing alone, and indicating by gestures that he was ready to surrender.  The battle at once ceased, and most of the Peruvian army rushed precipitately back towards the city.  In a state of frenzy they applied the torch in all directions, resolved to thwart the avarice of the conqueror by laying the whole city and all its treasures in ashes.  The inhabitants of Cuzco, almost without exception, fled.  Each one seized upon whatever of value could be carried away.  Volumes of smoke and the bursting flames soon announced to the Spaniards the doom of the city.

De Soto and his dragoons put spurs to their horses and hastened forward, hoping to extinguish the conflagration.  Now that the battle was fought and the victory won, Francisco Pizarro, with his band of miscreants, came rushing on to seize the plunder.

“They came like wolves or jackals to fatten on the prey which never could have been attained by their own courage or prowess.  The disappointment of Pizarro and his congenial associates, when they found that the principal wealth of the city had been carried off by the Peruvians, vented itself in acts of diabolical cruelty.  They seized on the aged and sick persons who had been unable to escape, and put many of them to the torture to make them confess where the treasures of Cuzco were concealed.  Either these unfortunate people could not give the information required, or they had sufficient firmness to endure agony and death rather than betray the consecrated treasures of their national monuments and altars into the hands of their enemies."

It was late in the afternoon of a November day, 1533, when the dragoons of De Soto, closely followed by the whole Spanish army, entered the burning streets of Cuzco.  They ran about eagerly in all directions searching for gold in the blazing palaces and temples.  Thus an immense amount of spoil was found, which the Peruvians had been unable to remove.  It is said that after one-fifth had been subtracted for the Spanish crown, and the officers had received their abundant shares, the common soldiers, four hundred and eighty in number, received each one a sum amounting to four thousand dollars.

Peru was conquered, but the victors had indeed gained a loss.  Nearly all who were engaged in the enterprise perished miserably.  Almagro was eventually taken captive by the Peruvians and strangled.  Hernando Pizarro, returning to Spain, languished for weary years in a prison.  The younger brother was beheaded.  Friar Vincent, who had given the support of religion to many of the most atrocious of these crimes, fell into an ambush with a small party, and they all were massacred.  Francisco Pizarro himself fell a victim to a conspiracy among his own soldiers, and at mid-day was put to death in his own palace.  But we must leave these wild men to their career of cruelty and crime, while we follow the footsteps of De Soto.

Early in the year 1534, De Soto took leave of his comrades in Peru, and embarked for Spain.  He had left his native land in poverty.  He now returned after an absence of about fifteen years, greatly enriched, prepared in opulence as well as in illustrious birth to take his stand with the proudest grandees of that then opulent realm.  His last labors in Peru were spent in unavailing endeavors to humanize the spirit of his countrymen there, and to allay the bitter feuds which were springing up among them.  But his departure seemed to remove from them all restraints, and Spaniards and Peruvians alike were whelmed in a common ruin.

No account has been transmitted to us of De Soto’s return voyage.  While he was in Peru, Don Pedro had died.  His sick-bed was a scene of lingering agony, both of body and of mind.  The proud spirit is sometimes vanquished and crushed by remorse; but it is never, by those scorpion lashes, subdued, and rendered humble and gentle and lovable.  The dying sinner, whose soul was crimsoned with guilt, was overwhelmed with “a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation.”  The ecclesiastics, who surrounded his death-bed, assured him that such sins as he had been guilty of could only be expiated by the most liberal benefactions to the church.  He had never forgiven Isabella for her pertinacious adherence to De Soto.  In the grave he could not prohibit their nuptials.  By bequeathing his wealth to the church, he could accomplish a double object.  He could gratify his revenge by leaving his daughter penniless, and thus De Soto, if he continued faithful, would be compelled to receive to his arms a dowerless bride; and a miserable superstition taught him that he could thus bribe God to throw open to him the gates of paradise.

Don Pedro’s eldest daughter, Maria, was engaged to be married to Vasco Nunez, the very worthy governor who had preceded Don Pedro at Darien, and whom he had so infamously beheaded.  She had spent fifteen years in her father’s castle in the gloom and tears of this cruel widowhood.  Don Pedro bequeathed nearly all his fortune to the endowment of a monastery, over which Maria was appointed abbess.  Isabella was left unprovided for.  Thus suddenly the relative position of the two lovers was entirely changed.  De Soto found himself in possession of large wealth.  Isabella was reduced to poverty.  We know not where to find, in the annals of history, the record of a more beautiful attachment than that which, during fifteen years of separation, trial, and sorest temptations, had united the hearts of De Soto and Isabella.  Their love commenced when they were children, walking hand in hand, and playing in the bowers of Don Pedro’s ancestral castle.

De Soto had now attained the age of thirty-five years.  Isabella was only a few years younger.  When we contemplate her youth, her beauty, the long years of absence, without even a verbal message passing between them, the deadly hostility of her father to the union, and the fact that her hand had been repeatedly solicited by the most wealthy of the Spanish nobility, this fidelity of Isabella to her youthful love is one of the most remarkable in the records of time.

“During the long separation,” says Mr. Wilmer, “of these exemplary lovers, many important changes had taken place.  Time and sorrow had somewhat dimmed the lustre of Isabella’s beauty.  But she was still the fairest among ten thousand, and De Soto was too deeply enamored and too justly appreciative to value her the less, because the rose had partially faded from her cheek.”

Immediately upon De Soto’s return to Spain, as all obstacles to their union were removed, the nuptial ceremony was performed.  The voice of fame had already proclaimed De Soto as the real conqueror of Peru.  As such, he had not only enriched himself, but had also greatly enriched the Spanish crown.  All eyes were fixed upon him.  It is said that at once he became the most noted and most popular man in the kingdom.  He and his bride were received at the Spanish court with the most flattering marks of distinction.  In his style of living he assumed almost regal splendor.  He had acquired his money very suddenly, and he lavished it with an unsparing hand.  A contemporary annalist writes: 

    “He kept a steward, a gentleman usher, several pages, a     gentleman of the horse, a chamberlain, a footman, and all     other officers that the house of a nobleman requires.”

One of the most splendid mansions in Seville he selected for his residence, and in less than two years he found that one-half of his princely fortune had melted away.  They were two years of adulation, of self-indulgence, of mental intoxication.  It was a delirious dream from which he suddenly awoke.  Reflection taught him that he must immediately curtail his expenses, and very seriously, or engage in some new enterprise to replenish his wasting purse.

The region of North America called Florida, a territory of undefined and boundless extent, was then attracting much attention as a fresh field for the acquisition of gold and glory.  Several expeditions had touched upon the unknown coast, but from various causes had proved entire failures.  Eight years before this De Narvaez had visited the country with three hundred adventurers.  He found the natives far more warlike than the Peruvians, and the country more difficult of access.  De Narvaez himself, and nearly all his band, fell before the fury of the Floridians.  Five only escaped.  One of these, Cabaca de Vaca, a man of glowing imagination, and who held the pen of a ready writer, wrote a Baron Munchausen account of the expedition.  He descanted upon the delicious clime, the luxuriant soil, the populous cities, the architectural splendor of the edifices, and the inexhaustible mines of silver and of gold.  There was no one to call his account in question.  His extravagant stories were generally believed.

De Soto, who was in the prime of his vigorous manhood, having as yet only attained his thirty-seventh year, read this narrative and pondered these statements with enthusiasm.  A couple of years of inaction in his luxurious saloons had inspired him with new zeal for romantic adventure; and to this there was added the powerful motive of the necessity of retrieving his fortunes.  He believed that gold could be gathered in Florida, even more abundantly than in Peru; that by the aid of the crown a numerous colony might be established where, under genial skies, every man could be put into possession of broad acres of the most luxuriant soil.  And he felt fully confident that his long experience on the isthmus and in Peru, qualified him in the highest degree to be the leader of such an enterprise.

In these views he was sustained by the common sentiment of the whole community.  De Soto applied to the king of Spain, the Emperor Charles Fifth, for permission to organize an expedition, at his own expense, for the conquest of Florida.  He offered to the crown, as usual for its share, one-fifth of the plunder.

Eagerly the Emperor, who was always in need of money, accepted the proposition, “asking no questions, for conscience sake.”  The Emperor was very profuse in conferring honors and titles upon his heroic subject.  He appointed him governor of the island of Cuba, which he was to make the base of his operations, investing him with almost dictatorial powers as both military and civil governor.  He also granted him a private estate in Florida, with the title of marquis, in whatever part of the country he might choose.  This magnificent estate was to consist of a region, ninety miles long and forty-five miles wide.

As soon as it was known throughout Spain that De Soto was about to embark on such an enterprise, volunteers began to flock to his standard.  He would accept of none but the most vigorous young men, whom he deemed capable of enduring the extremes of toil and hardship.  In a few months nine hundred and fifty men were assembled at San Lucar, eager to embark.  Many of these were sons of the wealthy nobles, who were thoroughly equipped in splendid style, with costly armor, and accompanied by a train of servants.

Twenty-four ecclesiastics, of various grades, joined the expedition, whose arduous task it was to convert the natives to that religion of the Spaniards which allowed them to rob their houses and their temples, to maltreat their wives and daughters, to set fire to their villages, to hunt them down with bloodhounds, and to trample them under the iron hoofs of their fiery steeds.

Never before had an expedition set out so abundantly supplied.  Not only was every necessity provided for, but luxury and even wasteful extravagance reigned through the armament.  De Soto himself was a man of magnificent tastes.  Many who were with him in Peru, and had become there enriched, had joined the enterprise.  And the young nobles of Spain surrounded themselves with the conveniences and splendor which large wealth could furnish.