The old and the new Peru

by Marie Robinson Wright

In order to reach Cajamarca, it was necessary for Pizarro and his men to cross the cumbre, or summit of the great Andean range, that rose before them like an impassable barrier. They had to march through treacherous defiles, where a mere handful of men in ambush could destroy a whole army, and the experience was one to be remembered long afterward; the sudden appearance of a huge fortress high up on the mountain side, strong enough to defy a regiment and large enough to shelter an army—the precipices that yawned in front of them at every turn—the intense cold and rarity of the atmosphere in the high altitude—were sources of constant fear and discomfort. But the Inca permitted the invaders to advance without opposition; indeed, he continued to send embassies to them every time they encamped on the way. Was it an exaggerated idea of their exalted origin and power, or absolute confidence in his own strength, or because the very audacity of Pizarro was incredible, that Atahuallpa permitted the Spaniards to advance on his encampment, when a small force could have prevented their crossing the cumbre? Perhaps Atahuallpa yielded to curiosity and permitted the Spaniard to visit his royal stronghold in order that he and his nobles might study the rara avis, intending to capture the invaders later, by surrounding them with his legions. The conquerors afterward expressed the opinion that the Inca probably wished to find out all about them, to have them explain the use of their weapons, etc., so that he might profit the more by their capture. One authority says: “Atahuallpa was very wise and discreet, and, although without enlightenment, yet a friend of knowledge, and possessing a subtle mind.”

AN INCAIC STREET, CUZCO.

One of the severest tests of the courage of Pizarro came when he led his little band out of the last defile of the mountains and saw, from the eminence on which they stood, the beautiful valley of Cajamarca spread before his gaze, radiant in the flush of summer time, with broad fields showing the fruits of industrious husbandry, a prosperous little city nestling just below, and farther away, at the other side of the valley, on the sloping hillsides, the encampment of the Inca, apparently sheltering a mighty host. A member of that bold little company naïvely relates: “With a courageous countenance, after having thoroughly surveyed the scene, we descended to the valley, and entered Cajamarca.” One can easily imagine that behind the “courageous countenance” there was much sinking of the heart, as the invaders made their way down the mountain side! While they were descending, the sky became overcast, and the sunlit valley took on a gloomy aspect. Ominous clouds obscured the surrounding summits, which a few hours before had glistened like steel-armored sentinels under the rays of the sun. It was as if the breath of an unholy ambition had already poisoned the air and the approaching spectre of crime had thrown its awful shadow across the place of tragedy.

Pizarro and his band entered Cajamarca on the afternoon of November 15, 1532. They found themselves in a city of considerable size, apparently the home of about ten thousand people, though, as the Spaniards rode through its streets, no one came out to welcome them, and they discovered that it had been entirely deserted by the inhabitants, “in order to give better accommodation to the distinguished visitors of the Inca,” as his messengers explained.

Impatient to know the nature of the reception he might expect from Atahuallpa, Pizarro had no sooner entered Cajamarca than he sent Hernando de Soto and his brother, Hernando Pizarro, to salute the Inca and to invite him to dine on the following day, at the same time begging that his majesty would let them know where they were to make their headquarters. The Spanish envoys were accompanied by a bodyguard of cavalry and made their appearance at the Inca’s camp in a sumptuous manner, dressed in splendid armor and carrying themselves with the arrogance and grace characteristic of the Castilian. They found the sovereign in the courtyard of his royal quarters, where he received them with such absence of demonstration that they were disconcerted and at a loss to understand his extraordinary attitude. They rode up slowly until within a few feet of the Inca, when, after making a respectful salute, Hernando Pizarro repeated his brother’s message. Atahuallpa heard it without giving the least sign of interest, without even a change of expression; the only response came from one of his nobles, in the single word “Ari,” which signified “It is well.” It was an embarrassing moment and left Pizarro’s ambassadors totally ignorant of the Inca’s intentions; but Hernando Pizarro was not of a disposition to accept such a situation as final, and he again addressed the Indian sovereign, requesting him to speak to them himself, explaining that he was Pizarro’s brother and had come to learn from the Inca’s own lips what was his royal pleasure. At this, Atahuallpa deigned to answer, with a smile, that he was keeping a fast, which would end the following morning, when he would be pleased to visit Pizarro; that, in the meantime, his guests were to occupy the royal tambo, or inn, in the great square of the city, “except the Hall of the Serpent, in the midst,” which he reserved for his own use.

During their interview with Atahuallpa, the Spaniards had an excellent opportunity to observe the Inca, who was seated on a cushion in the midst of his nobles and the princesses of the royal household. The monarch, who was thirty years of age, was of grave and kingly bearing, and had handsome, well-cut features; he wore a simpler costume than his courtiers, who were gorgeous in gayly ornamented attire; his crown was the crimson masca paicha, which he had assumed with the sovereignty of Cuzco, after his brother Huascar’s defeat. The appearance of the Inca, his splendid court, his troops numbering fifty thousand men, the evidences of great wealth, seen even in the large golden vessels from which the Spaniards were invited to drink the chicha offered by Atahuallpa’s order—everything impressed Pizarro’s envoys with the hopelessness of their scheme of conquest, and they returned to their chief with gloomy faces.

But Pizarro refused to see, think or hear of anything but success, and he trampled down every rising fear by the sheer force of his own confidence and determination; that very night he unfolded his bold plan of action—to make a sudden attack and seize the Inca in the midst of his troops. Once in possession of the monarch, Pizarro knew that he could dictate his own terms, for he had not been slow to recognize the sacred character of the worship rendered by the Indians to their emperor of celestial origin. Perhaps he had even calculated on the paralyzing effect such an audacious and sacrilegious act as the seizure of the Inca would have on a people completely held under the spell of their sovereign’s great and transcendent glory. But it is hardly to be supposed that he could have foreseen their utter prostration in the face of the calamity he was preparing to visit upon them!

ENTRANCE TO AN INCAIC HOUSE.