A Tour Through South America

by A. S. Forrest

Pizarro could make no such gorgeous display, being attended merely by a small band of soldiers and a priest. As always, this latter accompanied the Spanish adventurers to furnish a religious excuse for any excesses that might be deemed necessary. As the royal procession approached, the priest, Valverde by name, holding a crucifix in one hand and a breviary in the other, called upon the Inca to embrace the Christian faith, which he expounded at some length, and to acknowledge as his lawful sovereign the King of Castile, to whom the Pope, God’s viceregent on earth, had granted all the regions of the New World. Little understanding the badly translated harangue, the monarch indignantly refused to comply with the impudent demand, and this was the cue for one of the most remarkable exploits that even Pizarro ever carried out.

The signal was given to fire, and for the first time in their existence the Peruvians were made acquainted with the deadly effect of firearms. In this unprovoked attack, more than four thousand of them were slain, and Atahualpa, rudely dragged from his throne by Pizarro’s own hand, was cast into prison.

Although bent on the Inca’s destruction, Pizarro for a time, played with him with catlike cruelty. When there came a talk of liberty, Atahualpa offered to fill the room in which he was confined with vessels of gold as high as he could reach, provided he were allowed to go free. Pizarro jumped at so tempting a bargain, and the treasure was duly delivered, but the Inca was not given his liberty, and eventually the Spaniard had him strangled. Many pretexts were given for the crime, one being that he had ordered the death of his brother Huascar; another that he kept a great many concubines! But neither of these reasons nor any of the others cited revealed the dark motive in Pizarro’s soul. He was astute enough to perceive that so long as there was a single Inca alive a superstitious reverence would cling round his personality, and the domination of Spain would never be secure.

So perished the last of the Incas, and thereafter the great edifice of civilisation which they had erected crumbled into ruins. There was now a profuse distribution of gold and other treasure, some of which went to the Spanish court, a goodly proportion being reserved for Pizarro and his men.

It was only Almagro who did not get his just due, and Almagro must never be forgotten in the telling of this turbulent tale; for he played a big part in the events that preceded and followed the overthrow of the last Inca. Pizarro showed all through the piece that he was an implacable enemy and a treacherous friend, and his treatment of his comrade in arms exposes his character in the very worst light possible. While he rewarded the priestly Luque—ecclesiastical honours being outside the province of his own ambitions—he failed to fulfil hardly a single obligation to Almagro, who in those early Panama days had borne with him the burden and brunt of the battle.

INCA PORTRAITURE ON A PIECE OF OLD POTTERY.

For some years after, the history of Peru resolves itself into a duel between the two conquistadors, Almagro usually showing himself as the man of honour, Pizarro as the perjured schemer. But virtue did not avail men much in those days, and when Almagro at last fell into his rival’s hands it was plain that the game was up. He was sentenced to death, and bore his fate with fortitude.

For a little time after that, Pizarro remains the dominant figure in the picture, his rule, for he had long since thrown to the winds all pretence of obedience to Spain, being practically absolute. But the friends and supporters of Almagro had not forgotten the foul way in which their hero had been done to death, and they bided their time.

Their chance was not long in coming. On June 26th, 1541, Pizarro met his doom. A desperate band of conspirators burst into the palace in the square of Lima, broke down the resistance of the guard, and surprised the dictator just after he had risen from dinner. It may be said of him as it was said of Charles I, that nothing became him so much in life as his manner of leaving it. Armed with nothing more than a sword and buckler, he fought with all the vigour of his youthful days; but his courage was unavailing, for the conspirators were numerous and well-armed. Pizarro received a deadly thrust full in his throat, sank to the ground, and expired.