South America

If this was the case with the Spaniard, it was far more marked in the case of the Portuguese. In some respects, perhaps, no nation colonized with quite the same amount of enthusiasm as this. Its pioneers once definitely settled in the country, whichever it might be, there arose no question of looking upon the new conquest as a place to be resided in for a certain number of years and no more. The Portuguese went to the east and to the south-west to make themselves part and parcel of the soil of the country they had annexed. To this end they mingled from the very start with the natives, and inter-married with an entire want of restraint with the Indian women.

Thus from the very inception of the Portuguese colonial era we are confronted with a race of half-castes, and we see the forces brought about by a mixture of blood and climatic conditions working more powerfully in the Portuguese colonies than in any others. The result was, in one sense, the formation of a new race, and an almost complete absence of rebellion and native unrest in those parts where genuine civilization had been attempted. That the race as a whole lost its European vigour and its northern principles was inevitable. This was the price of peace.

The subject is one into which climatic influence enters largely. Many of the districts of Brazil were not, and are not, in the least suited as a permanent place of residence for the white man. Were an attempt to be made to populate such places as these by Europeans, it could only be done by means of a continual change of inhabitants. That is to say, each resident, having spent a certain number of years in the spot, must be succeeded by another in order to preserve the integrity and vigour of the race.

Portugal, with an extraordinary generosity, flung her handful of white colonists into the vast lands she had discovered, and hoped by this means to raise the leaven of the whole. In India, as exemplified in Goa, the result has met with scant success. In Brazil, however, where the proportion of white to black was greater, a race of intellect and culture has been developed, although occasionally subject to the mental paroxysms of the dwellers in the tropics. In any case it may be said that the colour question has never existed in Brazil—so far, at all events, as the Indian is concerned. It was necessarily in evidence to a certain extent upon the first introduction of the negro slave, but even here the question has become of less and less importance, until, at the present day, the negro has in Brazil probably a more congenial resting-place than anywhere else in the world.

It must never be forgotten that these remarks as regards the Spanish colonies, and to almost as great an extent as regards the Portuguese, apply to the general run of the population. The majority of the leaders, both social and political, in all the South American colonies have been in the first instance, and have continued, men of good blood, and generally of ancient lineage, who have floated along with the rest, until they met with the inevitable current which bore them to the topmost of the new social layers. And once there, having been found the most fitting, they have remained.

CHAPTER V

THE CONQUEST OF PERU

The story of Pizarro and the Incas has been told many hundreds of times, yet owing to the sheer audacity of which its elements are composed it would seem to retain its interest almost unimpaired. That a mere handful of men should have banded themselves together to conquer a nation which counted its subjects by the hundred thousand, and which could claim a civilization that included great armies, remains almost beyond belief. The Incas themselves, moreover, were a conquering race, and their troops had marched to the north and to the south in their thousands, conquering nations less important than their own, and thus adding to the extent of the one formidable Empire of the Southern Continent.

Yet the downfall of these armies in this victorious State was achieved by less than two hundred European soldiers, led by the two fearless adventurers, Francisco Pizarro and Diego Almagro. These, accompanied by Hernando Luques, had begun to explore the neighbourhood of Panama in 1524. Every member of the force, it may be taken for granted, had a keen nose for gold, and it was not long before they came across some treasure of the kind which determined the leaders to possess themselves the country where the metal was to be found.

At this period the number of men commanded by Pizarro and Almagro was fewer even than the band with which they entered Peru. When it came to the knowledge of the Spaniards that the country of their desire was in reality so formidable an Empire, Pizarro sailed to Spain in search of reinforcements, and returned accompanied by his brothers and by a force of 180 men. It was on Pizarro's arrival in America that the first serious breach occurred between Almagro and himself. This was brought about by the arrangements which Pizarro had concluded in Spain, and in which Almagro considered, doubtless rightfully, he had not been fairly dealt with by his partner.

After a while a truce was patched up between the pair, and in 1531 an expedition, carried in three small vessels, set sail for the South. The troops were landed on the Peruvian coast, and they marched inland, defeating such small forces as endeavoured to oppose their progress. The valour and greed of the little army were every day becoming more deeply stirred by the trophies of gold and silver which they captured as they went. Fate was fighting strongly in favour of these desperate Spaniards. No circumstances could have been better adapted to successful invasion than those which obtained when Pizarro and Almagro entered the country, although these adventurous spirits knew nothing of this at the time. The land was divided against itself, for the first time in the comparatively short Inca history. Atahualpa and Huasca, the two sons of the recently dead Inca, Huana Capac, were engaged in a fierce struggle for the throne.

This in itself was something of a shock to the devout subjects of the Inca race, looking as they did upon the Imperial Children of the Sun as superhuman beings. It was thus a war of demigods waged by doubting and diffident mortals. The arrival of the Spaniards increased, of course, the drama of the situation. At the period of their advent Huasca was obtaining the worst of the struggle, and, seeing the possibility of salvation in the arrival of the newcomers, he sent to these beseeching their help. It can be imagined with what avidity Pizarro seized upon this pretext to enter into the domestic affairs of the nation. Atahualpa unconsciously helped to play the fate of the unfortunate Inca race still further into the hands of the Spaniards. Learning of the warlike might of the white man, he also sent an embassy of friendship to Pizarro, and a little later, in 1532, he started out in order to effect his first meeting with the strangers. This took place at Caxamalca.

In an evil moment for himself Atahualpa had determined to do his utmost to impress these foreigners from overseas with the evidence of his wealth and power. His body was covered with golden plates, armour, and decorations which shone with a strange brilliance as they flashed back the rays of the sun from its worshipper. He was attended, moreover, by a chosen company of nobles, whose adornments, although by comparison less splendid, were sufficient to cause the Spaniards' eyes to start from their heads with wonder and freshly-awakened lust.

Had the Inca come as a humble suppliant, the fate of the nation might have been postponed, if not altogether altered. The appearance of these resplendent beings signalled its instant doom. As Atahualpa was borne on his litter of state towards where Pizarro stood expectant in front of his soldiers, a priest strode forward, and, approaching him, urged him heatedly to embrace the religion of the Cross.

It is certain that the Inca understood nothing whatever of what was going on. What might have been his state of mind when he was handed the breviary is unknown; in any case he flung it to the ground. This was the signal for the attack on the part of the Spaniards. Drawing their swords, they flung themselves furiously upon the altogether unprepared Indians, slaying thousands of their numbers. Pizarro himself, hacking and striking as he went, fought his way to the Inca's litter of state, and it was his own hand which dragged the unfortunate ruler from his golden chair. The next moment he was guarding his captive fiercely from the chance blows which were rained upon the dusky monarch by the Spaniards who went charging by. He knew well enough the value of the Inca alive and captive in his hands. It was for this reason alone that he warded off the blows which his men would have dealt the fallen Child of the Sun.

The main onslaught had now died away. The field of the massacre was covered with the bodies of the dead and dying Peruvians; the rest had fled. Pizarro lost no time in improving the occasion from a financial point of view. A gallant knight, Fernando de Soto, was sent to the marvellous city of Cuzco—authorized both by the Inca and Pizarro—to despoil the temples of their treasures. Thus enormous hoards of gold and silver were obtained from the sacred buildings and from Atahualpa's loyal subjects as his ransom.

Even here Pizarro showed his want of good faith, for when the treasure demanded had been given up and amassed, he still retained the person of the Inca. Matters of policy and personal dislike soon sealed the fate of this latter. In 1533 he was tried for his life. After a parodied performance of justice he was executed, although Fernando de Soto and a number of other Spaniards protested vigorously against the act.

From a purely political point of view it is likely enough that the crime was profitable; in any case it sent a shock throughout the bounds of the Inca Empire from which its dusky inhabitants never afterwards fully recovered. There was now no powerful claimant to the Inca throne. The wrongs suffered by the race at the hands of the Spaniards need not cover the fact that the Indians themselves frequently proved capable of tyrannical and sanguinary acts. Thus on the news of Atahualpa's capture his enraged adherents had slain Huasca, who by that time had become a prisoner in their hands.

Pizarro now determined to take an active share in the government of the country. Placing a son of Atahualpa's on the throne, and having received reinforcements of men and arms, he marched throughout the Province at the head of 500 men, carrying with him the puppet King upon whom he placed great hopes. The latter disappointed these, since he died in the course of the expedition. In some respects this was doubly unfortunate for Pizarro, as there now remained one clear claimant to the throne of the Children of the Sun—Manco Capac, the brother of Huasca.

Manco Capac was by no means prepared to yield tamely to the situation. For a considerable time very little was effected on either side. The Incas were slowly recovering from the shocks and tribulations which they had undergone; the Spaniards, on the other hand, found their attention occupied by the unexpected arrival of a Spanish expedition commanded by Pedro de Alvarado. This leader had performed his part in the conquest of Mexico, and had now hastened to the South in order to ascertain what chances of enrichment were to be met with in the land, the reputation of which was now spreading itself abroad. For a while it looked very much as if open warfare would result between the rival parties. In the end, however, Pizarro consented to buy the departure of Alvarado, and this leader retired heavy in pocket. On the whole his visit had not proved unprofitable to the astute Pizarro, since many of Alvarado's men had remained in Peru to throw in their lot with him.

Pizarro and Almagro were now left in occupation of the Inca Empire. It was inevitable that jealousy should arise between the pair, and it was not long before the situation grew strained. Pizarro, true to his own interests, had insisted on returning to Spain in order to give an account of the doings in Peru. Needless to say, he employed the opportunity to obtain the royal sanction to advance still further his official position—somewhat at the expense of Almagro, of course. Almost directly after his return he founded the city of Lima, intending this to supersede Cuzco as the future capital of the country.

All this while the breach between Pizarro and Almagro had widened. In 1535 the latter, realizing that even the Empire of the Incas was not sufficiently large to hold the pair of Spanish leaders, determined to make for the South. The expedition was a tragic one. Almagro, though his spirit was undaunted, was now aged in years, and the barren country of the Atacama Desert and the attacks of the hostile Indians rendered the enterprise a failure from a monetary point of view. Almagro had invested all his fortune in this, and his affairs now became desperate.

In the meantime the crafty Pizarro had been permitted to enjoy very little peace and tranquillity in Peru. Manco Capac had bided his time, and his Indian subjects, fervently loyal to the sacred dynasty, had crowded about him in their thousands. The Peruvians now assumed the aggressive. Thousands of Inca troops scoured the country, and, falling on remote and unprepared bands of Spaniards, obtained some modicum of revenge in slaughtering all they found.

Encouraged by such minor successes, the Inca army advanced against the main bodies of the Spaniards. Some historians place the numbers of the native troops at no fewer than 200,000. With astonishing suddenness the situation became altered. Pizarro found himself besieged in Lima, while his brothers, shut up in Cuzco, experienced an equal difficulty in beating off the attacks of the serried native ranks. Had the Spanish army in Peru been left to its own devices, there is no doubt but that their doom would have been sealed. The irony of fate, however, chose this very moment for the return of Almagro. Marching up with his grim and travel-worn band, he found himself before Cuzco, surveying the beleaguered Spaniards and the investing Incas.

Manco Capac had gleaned something of the disputes between the European leaders. He made advances to Almagro, and did all he could to win him to his side; but Almagro, little cause though he had to love Pizarro, proved himself stanch. He was in consequence attacked by the Inca troops, but these he repulsed with heavy losses, and then entered Cuzco in triumph. Manco Capac himself escaped, and retired to the other side of the Andes.

Almagro was destined to receive small thanks for his intervention. The aged conquistador laid claim to the city as part of his own dominions, and this woke into fresh activity the warfare between himself and Francisco Pizarro. Almagro, defeated, lost his head, a white and seventy-year-old head though it was. His fate by no means ended the tragedies in Peru. The current of sinister events was running here in a strangely full flood. It was only three years afterwards that Pizarro himself was murdered by his enemies, the adherents of Almagro's son, whom they wished to see elevated to the Governorship of the country, an event which actually occurred, although it proved of very short duration.

By the time this had come about, the power of the Incas had been broken for good and all, so far as practical purposes were concerned. Driven from their temples and strongholds, certain sections of the race survived, although among them were remarkably few of the noble families who had formed the salt of the land. Great numbers of the rank and file of the race met with the fate which was at that time so universal throughout the country, or rather in its metal-bearing lands. They were sent to the mines, and, worked and flogged to death, their numbers diminished with a ghastly rapidity. Some sections, more fortunate, were at a rather later age set to agriculture, and, forced to somewhat more congenial tasks than the first workers, they continued to serve the Spaniards.

CHAPTER VI

SPANIARD AND NATIVE

The collisions with the various peoples of the Continent had now afforded the conquistadores an opportunity of testing the power of each. The force of the impact had, it is true, swept into the background the first peoples with whom they had come into contact; but, as the scanty numbers of the pioneers filtered across the new territories, they found that the task of annexation was by no means so easy in every case.

So far as a warlike spirit was concerned, the difference between the aboriginal tribes of the tropics and those of the southern regions was most marked. The Incas were, in many respects, a warlike race—that is to say, they had possessed themselves by force of arms of the country in the neighbourhood of Lake Titicaca, wresting this from whatever tribe of the Aymaras it was which, highly civilized, had held the land before them. This nucleus of empire, once obtained, they had spread to the south and to the north, and to a certain extent to the east, conquering all with whom they had come into contact, with the notable exception of the Araucanians in Southern Chile.

The Chibchas, too, in the far north, whose civilization in some respects equalled that of the Incas, might be termed a conquering race. They dominated the north of the Continent, and upheld their empire securely by force of arms. Yet it is curious that both these nations, representing the chief civilizing and inventive powers of the Continent, presented nothing beyond the most futile resistance to the invaders. Their gods desecrated, their faith outraged, stung to utter fury and hate, even these passions failed to lead them to a single victory of consequence, notwithstanding the fact that their tens of thousands of warriors were faced by no more than a few dozen Spaniards. Disheartened by the terrifying onslaught of the men in mail mounted on gigantic horses, they appear to have reconciled themselves with melancholy submission to a fate which only on two or three occasions during the following centuries they endeavoured with any earnestness at all to disturb.

How different were the battles of the south! The Spaniards who found themselves face to face with the Araucanian Indians, and with those of the Pampa on the other side of the Andes, had a far more strenuous tale to tell. The armour which had resisted with such contempt the more delicate weapons of the Peruvians and of the northern warriors in general was crushed in and dented beneath the tremendous blows dealt by the clubs of the muscular and warlike Araucanians, who charged into the battle with a wild joy that left them as drunk with triumph at the end of the combat as they had been with their native spirit at the beginning.

These Araucanians were, indeed, born fighters. In common with the general run of mankind, it was their lot to be defeated from time to time. Nevertheless, they repaid the defeats frequently with very tragic interest; in any case, subdued by force of arms they certainly never were. Much the same may be said of the Indians of the Argentine and Uruguayan plains. The aggressive tactics here were by no means confined to the Spaniards. On the first landing of the conquistadores, these found themselves, after having given provocation in the first instance, cooped up within the flimsy walls of their new settlements, surrounded by fierce and vindictive enemies, who charged on them from time to time with bewildering fury, choosing as often as not for the purpose the hour just before dawn, which they would make horrid with their warlike cries and shrill yells. These, too, remained entirely unsubdued to the last. They had the ill-fortune to be favoured with fewer natural advantages than the Araucanians. They had neither woodland valleys nor mountains in which to take shelter in the time of need. They fought on a plain which was as open as day, and as flat as a table from horizon to horizon. No crude strategy was possible—at all events, in the daytime—and the attack of the charging Indians was necessarily visible from a distance of leagues.

From time to time a certain number of these fierce tribesmen were captured, but their fiery spirits could brook no domestic tasks, and when, at a very much later date, some of them were shipped upon a Spanish man-of-war with the purpose of testing their value as sailors, they rose in mutiny and slew many officers and men, and, indeed, obtained temporary control of the ship, until, seeing the uselessness of further efforts, they flung themselves overboard in a body.

It was the ancestors of such men as these who had in the first instance disputed the soil with the Spaniards. There is no doubt that, while the metal-bearing lands fell into the opened mouths of the Spaniards as easily as over-ripe plums, the maintaining of a foothold in the southern plains was a precarious and desperate matter. As has been said, the natural topographical advantages of Southern Chile made the wars here the grimmest and fiercest of all those waged throughout the Continent. The mere names of Caupolicán and Lautaro suffice to recall a galaxy of Homeric feats. The deeds of the two deserve a passing word of explanation.

It was the Chief Caupolicán who organized the first resistance to the invaders on a large scale, and who led his armies with a marvellous intrepidity against the Spaniards. He initiated a new species of attack, which proved very trying to the white troops. He would divide his men into a number of companies, and send one after another to engage the Spanish forces. Thus the first company would charge, and would engage for awhile, fighting desperately. Then they would retire at their leisure, to be succeeded without pause by the second, and so on. According to some of the older historians, it was by this method that Valdivia's forces were overcome on the occasion when the entire Spanish army, including its brave leader, was massacred.

The other famous chief, Lautaro, received his baptism of spears and of fire under the leadership of Caupolicán. Lautaro was probably the greatest scourge from which the Spaniards in Chile ever suffered. Twice he demolished the town of Concepcion, and once he pursued their retreating forces as far as Santiago itself. In an engagement on the outskirts of this city the victorious chief was killed, and after his death a certain amount of the triumphant spirit of the Indians deserted them. But only for a while. The indomitable spirit of the race awoke afresh, and asserted itself with renewed ardour in the course of the next series of the interminable struggles.

Compared with all this, the sun-bathed peaks of the centre and of the north breathed dreams and soft romance. Naturally the temperament of the inhabitants had tuned themselves to fit in with this. The few savage customs which had intruded themselves among the quaint rites and mysticism of these peoples had failed to inculcate a genuine warlike ardour or lust for blood. Their dreamily brooding natures revolted against the strain of prolonged strife. What measure of violent resistance was to be expected from the dwellers on the shores of Lake Guatavita?

The Lake of Guatavita had been a sacred water of the Indians of Colombia before the advent of the Spaniards. It was on this peaceful sheet that the cacique and his chiefs were rowed out in canoes while the people clustered in their thousands about the mountainous sides of the lake.

When the canoes had arrived at the centre of the lake the chiefs were accustomed to anoint the cacique, and to powder him with a great profusion of gold-dust. Then came the moment for the supreme ceremony. The multitude turned their backs on the lake, and the cacique dived from the canoe and plunged into its waters; at the same time the people threw over their shoulders their offerings of gold and precious stones, which fell with a splash into the waters.

The lake was further enriched after the arrival of the conquistadores, when the natives, tortured and ill-treated in order that gold should be wrung from them, conceived such a hatred of the metal that they threw all they had wholesale into the sacred waters. It is said that some Indians, goaded beyond endurance, taunted their conquerors and told them to search at the bottom of the lake, where they would find gold. They had no idea that the Spaniards would actually attempt this, but this the conquistadores did, and were digging in order, apparently, to drain the water off when the sides fell in and put an end to the attempt. It is said that even then they procured a large amount of gold and some magnificent emeralds.

As may well be imagined, it was people such as these who suffered most of all from the violence of the strange, pale beings who had descended into their midst to subdue them, first of all by means of the sword, and then by the ceaseless wielding of the more intimate and degrading thong. Since, notwithstanding all that has been urged to the contrary, the average Spaniard of those days—even those of his number who had to do with the Americas—was provided with the ordinary sentiments and passions of humanity, it was inevitable that in the course of the oppression and warfare waged against the natives some devoted being should sooner or later rise up to espouse the cause of the Indians.

This intermediary, of course, was Bartolomé de las Casas, so widely known as the Apostle of the Indies. There are many who fling themselves heart and soul into a cause of which they know nothing, and who, from the sheer impetus of good-hearted ignorance, cause infinite mischief. The case of Las Casas was different. Before he took up his spiritual labours he had lived for years at the theatre of his future work, and understood the conditions of the colonial and native life.

As a matter of fact, Las Casas' mission did not dawn upon him until he had enjoyed a very considerable practical experience in the industrial affairs of the New World. His connection with this latter did not begin with his own generation. He was the son of a shipmate of Columbus, who had sailed with the great explorer in his first voyage, and who had accompanied Ovando when that knight sailed out from Spain to take up his Governorship of the Indies.

It was in Hispaniola, it appears, that Las Casas was ordained priest. In the first place he lived the ordinary life of the Spanish settler in the island. In common with everyone else, he accepted a repartimiento—that is to say, a supply of Indian labourers—and was undoubtedly on the road to riches when, little by little, the inhumanity of slave-owning became clear to him. To one of his enthusiastic temperament no half measures were possible. He gave up his Indians forthwith, allowed his estate to revert to Nature, and began his strenuous campaign, that had as its object the freedom of the native races.

By 1517 he had succeeded in attracting a wide attention to his efforts. Journeying to Spain, he persisted in his cause, and gave the high authorities of that country little peace until they lent an ear to the grievances of his dusky protégés. Las Casas was endowed to an unusual extent with both eloquence and fervour, and both these attributes he employed to the utmost of his powers in the service of the American aborigines. Thus he painted the sufferings and the terrible mortality of these unfortunate people with a fire and a force that left very few unmoved. Nevertheless, as was only to be expected, he met with considerable opposition from various quarters where the financial interests dependent on the New World outweighed all other considerations. In the end, rendered desperate by this opposition and by the active hostility which he encountered in these quarters, he determined to lead the way by the foundation of a model colony of his own in South America.

He obtained the cordial sanction of the Spanish King to this end. Nevertheless, when put into practice, the scheme failed utterly. The reasons for this were to be sought for in the poorness of the soil chosen and in the intrigues of the white settlers rather than in any fundamental fault of the plan itself. For all that, its failure came as a severe blow to Las Casas. After experiences such as these, the majority of men would probably have given up the attempt in despair. Las Casas, it is true, sought the refuge of a monastery for a while in order to recover his health and spirits, which had suffered from the shock. Once again in possession of these, he returned to the field, and, undaunted, continued to carry on his work.

This campaign of Las Casas is famous for a curious anomaly. That his work of mercy should have resulted in the introduction into the Continent of a greater number of dusky labourers than before appears on the face of it paradoxical. Yet so it was. For Las Casas, determined that the mortality among the Indians should cease, advocated the importation of African slaves into Central and South America. His idea was that the labours spread over so many more thousands of human bodies would prove by comparison bearable, and would thus end in fewer fatalities. It is certain enough that this introduction of the sturdy negro tended considerably to this end, and that many thousands of lives were prolonged, if nothing more, by this plan. For all that, it must be admitted that the venture was a daring one to emanate from the mind of a preacher who was fighting against the slave trade. But Las Casas, urged by his own experience, took a broad view, and none even of his contemporaries were able for one moment to impugn his motives.

Las Casas was as much a product of the period and place as were the wild and daring conquistadores themselves. The new Continent undoubtedly exerted a curious influence over its visitors from the Old World. It seemed to possess the knack of bringing out the virtues as well as the defects with an amazing and frequently disconcerting prodigality. Several of Las Casas' biographers have wondered at the reason why the Apostle of the Indies was never made a saint. Certainly hundreds of lesser heads have been kept warm by a halo which has never graced that of Las Casas.

CHAPTER VII

THE COLONIZATION OF THE SOUTH

It was natural that after the first occupation of the New World the tendency of the explorers should have been to turn their attention to the south and to the still undiscovered lands. At the first glimpse the aspect of the Atlantic coast to the south of Brazil gave little promise of the wealth—that is to say, of the gold—sought by the pioneers, since its shores were low, marshy, and alluvial.

In 1515 Juan de Solis sailed to the mouth of the River Plate, and landed on the coast of Uruguay. His party were immediately attacked by Charrúa Indians, and the bodies of De Solis himself and of a number of his crew were stretched dead on the sands. This ended the expedition, for the survivors left the place in haste and returned to Spain.

In 1526 Sebastian Cabot explored the River Plate, and, sailing up-stream, investigated the Paraná, and discovered the waters of the Paraguay River itself. In these inland waterways his fleet was met by that of another pioneer, Diego Garcia. This latter, doubtless from chivalrous motives, gave the pas to Cabot, and turned the bows of his vessels down-stream. It was Cabot's intention to establish himself permanently on the shores of this great river system. Near the present site of the town of Rosario he built the fort of Sancti Spiritus. Seeing, however, that his appeals to Spain for assistance remained unanswered, he eventually abandoned his attempt. There seems little doubt that he withdrew practically all his forces from the River Plate; but there are legends of some survivors who remained in the district after the main expedition had left. Some old historians allege that these underwent strange experiences and hardships, but the veracity of such narratives is more than doubtful.

It was in 1535, the year when Valdivia marched southward from Peru to conquer Chile, that the conquest and actual colonization of the River Plate was first seriously undertaken. Pedro de Mendoza, a soldier of fortune, ventured on the attempt. Mendoza's career as a mercenary soldier had proved quite unusually profitable even for those days, and he had acquired a large fortune at the sack of Rome alone. His purse provided a really formidable expedition.

The voyage to the mouth of the River Plate on this occasion was more productive of incident than was usual, even in those days of adventurous pioneers. The halts at Teneriffe and at Rio de Janeiro had resulted in some dissensions among Mendoza's men, and the execution by the orders of the Chief of one of his most popular leaders had all but caused open mutiny at the latter place. Nevertheless, when his forces landed at the site of the present town of Buenos Aires, they constituted a formidable company of men, admirably equipped with everything that the science of the age could devise for the purpose of conquest and colonization, particularly the former.

Having founded his settlement, Mendoza set himself to deal with the Indians and to bring them into subjection. In a very short while he found out that it was a very different tribe of aborigines with which he had to deal to the peace-loving inhabitants of Peru and the north-west. The agile, hardy, and fierce Pampa Indians, having once fallen foul of the invaders, allowed them no respite. Attacked by day and night, deprived of all supplies of food, Mendoza's troops began to suffer from exhaustion and hunger, to say nothing of the wounds inflicted by their enemies.

In the end, the leaders had to admit to themselves that the place was no longer tenable. Nevertheless, neither Mendoza nor his men had any intention of abandoning permanently these fertile plains through which ran the great rivers. The scarcity of minerals in these districts had now become sufficiently obvious to them; yet even to men in quest of little beyond gold the extraordinary fertility of the alluvial soil was not altogether lost. With a courage and pertinacity which does the adventurers every credit, they determined, instead of abandoning the river and putting out to sea, to sail far up-stream into the unknown, and to seek their fortune inland.

Mendoza's expedition first of all established itself for a while on the site of Sancti Spiritus, Cabot's old abandoned fort, which they now rechristened Corpus Christi. Shortly after their arrival at the place, Mendoza himself, who had doubtless suffered many disillusions concerning the gold and precious stones of these districts, and whose health had given way beneath the stress of the hardships and of the numerous precarious situations in which he had found himself, set sail for Spain. It was to be his fate never to return to his native land, since he died on his way home.

Juan de Ayolas was now left in command of the Spanish force. He was an able commander, and a man of determined character, eminently fitted to conduct an expedition such as this. Without hesitation, the new leader purposed to make his way farther up the stream. He got together the ships once again, and, manning them, he made his way from point to point along the great river system, attacked here and there by the Indians on the banks, and occasionally challenged by flotillas of canoes, which boldly came out to assume the aggressive. But in every case the lesson taught the Indians was a severe one, and, undeterred by the hostility shown him, Ayolas sailed inland until he came to Asuncion in Paraguay. At this spot the expedition came to a halt, and the weary pioneers landed, and immediately became lost in admiration of the fertile and delightful country in which they now found themselves.

There is no doubt that to the new-comers the country in the neighbourhood of Asuncion, with its pleasant valleys, rolling country, and forest-covered hills, must have come in the shape of a relief after the apparently interminable passage of the plains. It was the spot at which the pioneer would naturally halt, and endeavour to found his settlement.

The Guaraní Indians extended but a cold welcome to the daring adventurers. Their temperament was by nature far less warlike than that of the savage and intrepid natives in the regions of the coast. These Guaraní Indians, nevertheless, made some show of aggression, and would doubtless have been glad to scare away these undesired strangers. Owing to this, a collision between the two forces occurred; but so crushing was the defeat of the Indians that they resigned themselves submissively to the Spaniards, and henceforth became a vassal tribe, lending assistance to their white masters in both civil and warlike occupations.

Immediately after the victory, the Guaranís were set by the Spanish to assist in the construction of the new town, which was to be the head-quarters of the Imperial power in the south-east of the Continent. Once definitely settled here, the conquistadores set themselves to extend the frontiers of their dominions, which in the first place were confined to the neighbourhood of the new town of Asuncion itself.

The tribes in the immediate neighbourhood were now more than merely friendly: they were actively servile. But the case was different with the other native peoples, more especially with the Indians in the Chaco, the wooded and swampy district on the opposite side of the river. These showed themselves fiercely inimical to the new-comers, and it was seldom that the Spaniards were without a feud of some kind to suffer at their hands.

The new colonists had now time to look about them. Much had happened since they had first landed on the shores of the River Plate, but the main object of the expedition still remained clear to them. This was the discovery of a road from the south-east to Peru. Ayolas determined to take up this fascinating quest in person. Accompanied by a number of men, he sailed up the river until he came to a spot at which he judged that an attempt at the overland journey might well be attempted. Leaving Domingo Martinez de Irala, his lieutenant, in charge of the ships and of a force of men, Ayolas marched into the forest and disappeared into the unknown. It was his fate never to return. His company, ambushed and cut up by a tribe of hostile Indians, perished to a man.

It was months before Irala learned of the catastrophe. In the belief that his chief was still in the land of the living, he waited with his ships and men at the point where Ayolas had disembarked, varying his vigil from time to time by a cruise down-stream in search of provisions. The news came to him at length, shouted out by hoarse defiant voices from the recesses of the forest on the banks. For a while the Spaniards would not believe the surly message of death given by the unseen Indians. In the end, however, its truth could not be doubted, and Irala assumed command of the party. Returning to Asuncion, he was unanimously appointed Governor by the settlers of the place.

The character of Domingo Martinez de Irala was eminently suited to the post he now held. His courage was high, his determination inflexible, and his energy abundant. It is true that, in the same manner as his colleagues of the period, he was frequently totally careless of the means employed so long as the end was achieved. Nevertheless, he was in many respects an ideal leader, and his vigorous personality kept in check both the ambitions of the Spanish cliques and the dissatisfaction of the less friendly Indians.

Irala was destined to undergo many vicissitudes in the course of his Governorship. Very soon after he had been elected to this post it was his fate to be superseded for a while. Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, having obtained the appointment in Spain itself, came out by Royal Licence to govern the new province of which Asuncion was the capital. Cabeza de Vaca was essentially a humanitarian Governor, who proved himself extremely loth to employ coercion and the sword, which means, in fact, he only resorted to with extreme reluctance as a very last resource. His courage and determination were evidenced by his overland journey; for, instead of sailing up the great river system from the mouth of the River Plate, he brought his expedition overland from Santa Catalina in Brazil, advancing safely through the numerous tribes and difficult country which intervened between the coast and Asuncion.

The temperament of Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, however, was of too refined and trusting an order to deal with the turbulent and somewhat treacherous elements which abounded at Asuncion. After a while a revolt occurred, brought about probably by the Governor's objection to the wholesale plundering and enslavement of the Indians by the Spaniards. The populace turned strongly against the Governor. Cabeza de Vaca was flung into prison, and sent a prisoner to Spain, after which drastic procedure Irala was once again elected Governor by the colonists. Doubtless Cabeza de Vaca possesses the chief claim to sympathy of all those who had to do with Paraguay at this early period of its existence; yet at the same time it is impossible to refrain from admiration of the sheer determination and willpower with which Irala pursued his career.

For years Irala's position remained utterly precarious. He was the chosen of the colonists, but not of the Court of Spain, which alone possessed any legal right to appoint a person to so high an office as his. No exalted personages were more jealous of their privileges than these. Several times Irala was on the point of losing his Governorship, but on each occasion the measures he adopted, aided by good fortune, tided him over the crisis, and left him continuing in the seat of authority. In the end, after undergoing innumerable anxieties, Irala at last succeeded in obtaining the Royal Licence for the Governorship of Paraguay.

All the while his energy continued undiminished, and it was due to him that the colonization of the country made such rapid strides. The means by which this end was effected were, from the modern point of view, entirely dubious, for it was Irala who instituted in Paraguay encomiendas, or slave settlements, into which the natives of the country were congregated in order that their labour might be employed in agriculture and similar occupations. This, however, was the ordinary procedure of the period, and, as historians have already pointed out, Irala's faults, although serious enough, were really nothing beyond those of his age. In any case, his name stands as that of one of the most powerful of the conquistadores. During the later years of his office a comparatively undisturbed era obtained, and he held the reins of the Paraguayan Government with a firm hand till his death, which occurred at the age of seventy-one.

On Irala's death, it was only natural that those elements of discord and jealousy which his strong personality had kept in check should break out, and cause no little confusion and strife. For a while the Governorship of Paraguay was sought by many, and the conflicting claims led to numerous disputes, and even occasional armed collisions. One of the most notable of the Governors who succeeded Irala was Juan de Garay. It was this conquistador who was responsible for the second and permanent founding of the city of Buenos Aires. Garay was a far-seeing man, who, having established a number of urban centres inland, saw clearly the importance of a settlement at which vessels from Europe could touch on their first arrival at the Continent.

So the stream of white men, having been in the first instance swept by the force of circumstances rather than its own desire from the coast in a north-westerly direction, began now to roll back towards the coast once again, without, however, yielding up any of the territories which it had occupied in the interior.

In 1580 Juan de Garay determined that the supreme effort should be made. He led an expedition down the stream, and on the spot where Pedro de Mendoza had founded his first ill-fated settlement he built the pioneer structures of the second town of Buenos Aires. The wisdom of this move was evident to all, provided the place were able to withstand the attacks of the surrounding Indians. In this the garrison succeeded, and Buenos Aires, having now taken firm root, began the first slow growth of its development, which eventually made of it the greatest city in South America.

In the meantime much had been effected towards the colonization of the land to the west of the Andes. As has been related, Almagro's unfortunate expedition returned, dejected and diminished in numbers, from the apparently inhospitable soil in the south. This disaster lent to Chile an unenviable but entirely undeserved notoriety. Pedro de Valdivia was the next to venture into these regions. Valdivia naturally enjoyed several advantages over his predecessor, for he knew now, by the other's experiences, the dangers and perils against which he had to guard. In consequence of this his expedition met with considerably more success than had been anticipated. Marching southward across the great Atacama Desert, he penetrated to the fertile regions of the land, and founded the town of Santiago.

All this was not effected without encountering the hostility of the local Indians, and the inhabitants of the new town carried their lives in their hands for a considerable while after the foundation of the city. Perhaps, indeed, no pioneers experienced greater hardships than did those of Chile. For the first few years of its existence every member of the new colony became accustomed to live in an unceasing condition of short rations, and it was on very poorly furnished stomachs that the garrison was obliged to meet and to repel the attacks of the natives. In the end, however, the seeds which had been brought by the adventurers took root and grew. Provisions became fairly abundant, and the settlements in the neighbourhood of Santiago were now firmly established.

Valdivia, determined to extend his frontiers, marched to the south. It was in the neighbourhood of the Biobio River that he first encountered the Araucanian warriors of the true stock. Here his forces met with a rude awakening. In discipline and fighting merit the companies of the Araucanians stood to the remaining tribes of South America in the same relation as did the Zulu regiments to the other fighting-men of Africa. A furious struggle began which was destined to last for generations and for centuries. But at no time were the fierce Araucanians subdued, although it fell to their lot to be defeated over and over again, as, indeed, proved the fate of the Spaniards likewise.

Some notion of the tremendous vigour with which these wars of the south were waged may be gathered from "La Araucana," the magnificent epic written by Ercilla, the Spanish poet, who composed his verses hot from the fight, his arms still weary from wielding the sword.

One of the first of the notable Spanish victims in the course of these wars was Valdivia himself. Attacked by furious hordes of Araucanians and overwhelmed, the intrepid European and his army perished to a man; while the Araucanians in triumph swept northwards, to be hurled to the south again by the next wave of battle which chanced to turn in favour of the Spaniards.

CHAPTER VIII

THE GOVERNMENT OF THE SOUTH AMERICAN COLONIES

Having now definitely obtained possession of the enormous territories of South America, it was equally the policy of both Spain and Portugal to retain the enjoyment of the new lands and of their produce for themselves alone. In order to effect this, stringent laws were laid down from the very inception of the colonization of the Continent. In a nutshell, they amounted to this: none but Spaniards might trade with the Spanish possessions of South America, and none but Portuguese with the Colony of Brazil. In the case of the latter country the regulations were by no means so strictly carried out as in the former. One of the chief reasons for this, no doubt, was the old-standing and traditional friendship existing between Portugal and England. With so many interests in common, and such strong sentimental bonds uniting the pair in Europe, it was difficult to shut out the English commerce altogether from Brazil.

In the Spanish colonies the enactments of the Court of Spain were far more rigorously carried out. Here, since the laws were so strict, the rewards for their breaking were naturally all the greater. Tempted by the magnitude of these latter, a great number of the officials made a lucrative profession of giving clandestine assistance to foreign commerce in direct contravention of the regulations laid down.

It is rather curious to remark that at the very height of her colonial commerce, when the riches of South America were pouring at the greatest rate into her coffers, how little actual wealth was accumulated by the Mother Country. Indeed, a monumental proof of the inefficiency of her organization is that, although she bled the filial nations with an almost incredible enthusiasm, Spain remained in debt. The influx of gold from her colonies demoralized and ruined such industries as she had possessed, and such goods as she sent out to South America and elsewhere were now almost devoid of any proportion of her own manufactures. The merchandise which she sent to the New World she purchased from other countries, principally from Great Britain, and the English merchants saw to it that their profit was no small one. Thus Spain at this period, from a mercantile point of view, was very reluctantly serving as a general benefactor to Europe.

All this, of course, was in spite of most extraordinary efforts to effect the contrary. As early as 1503 the Casa de Contratacion de las Indias had been established in Spain. This institution was practically the governing body of the colonies. It possessed numerous commercial privileges, since it held the monopoly of the colonial trade. These privileges were continued until as late as 1790.

The Casa de Contratacion, although in many respects a purely mercantile body, was endowed with special powers. So wide was its authority that to be associated with this body was wont to prove of enormous financial benefit. Thus, it was entitled to make its own laws, and it was specially enacted by Royal Decree that these were to be obeyed by all Spanish subjects as implicitly as any others of the nation.

So far as the commercial world was concerned, the powers of the Casa de Contratacion were sheerly autocratic. The institution, in fact, held the fortunes of all the colonials in its hand. It possessed, in the first place, the privilege of naming the price which the inhabitants of the New World should pay for the manufactured goods of the Old. In addition to this, it lay within its domain to arrange the rates at which the produce sent from the colonies was to be sold in the Spanish markets. From this it will be evident that, commercially speaking, its powers were feudal.

It was inevitable that frequent evils should have sprung from the inauguration of a system such as this. It became almost a religion to every Spanish official and trader to batten upon the unfortunate colonial, quite regardless of the fact that the pioneer settler was being strangled during the process. Since the hapless dweller in South America was not allowed to bargain or haggle, and was forced to take whatever was graciously sent out to him at a rate condescendingly fixed, it frequently happened that this latter was five or ten times the legitimate price.

The disadvantages endured by the humble oversea strugglers, however, did not end here, for their own produce received the coldest of financial greetings in Europe, and the prices realized from these frequently left the agriculturalists in despairing wonder as to whether it was worth while to continue with their various industries. Added to all these were further regulations which proved both irksome and costly to the men of the south. Twice a year the Casa de Contratacion sent out a formidable fleet from Cadiz, escorted by men-of-war. It was this fleet which carried the articles of which the colonials were in urgent need. Now, the main settlements of the Spanish merchants and officials, as distinguished from the colonial, were in Panama and the north, and it was largely in order to benefit these privileged beings that the ridiculous regulations were brought into force which made the fleet of galleons touch at the Isthmus of Panama alone. By this means it was insured that these goods should pass through the commercial head-quarters, and leave a purely artificial profit to the Spaniards concerned, instead of being sent direct to the various ports with which the coasts of the Continent were now provided.