The Conquest of Peru was not undertaken without a solemn appeal to heaven, a ceremony which formed the prelude to all enterprises in those days, of whatever character or purpose. Mass was performed by the ecclesiastic, Vicente de Valverde, a Dominican friar, who had accompanied the expedition, and whose share in the events of the memorable day upon which they were now entering is only to be excused on the score of over-passionate zeal. During the religious service, the priest and his assistants invoked the divine aid in behalf of the soldiers of the Cross who were fighting to establish the Christian faith; and Exsurge, Domine was chanted with all the enthusiasm that the most devoted band of Crusaders would have shown on the eve of a battle with the Moors; the heritage of blood is strong, and in the exaltation of that moment, it is certain that the baser motives of the premeditated onslaught were submerged under a tide of religious emotions. But it is doubtful whether Pizarro allowed the religious side of the campaign to occupy his mind any further than was required by the temperament and spirit of his followers; he knew his men, and governed them through their strongest impulses, which he could control only by apparent sympathy.

Nothing was left undone in the preparations for capturing the Inca. Cavalry and infantry were stationed in great halls or barracks that opened on to the plaza through wide doors, which were to remain closed until a given signal. The confusing effect of a sudden surprise and unaccustomed sights and sounds had been carefully studied by Pizarro, who had two small pieces of ordnance placed in the fortress, and all the horses adorned with bells on their breastplates. It was understood that on the firing of the first gun, the whole army should rush into the plaza with their battle-cry: “Santiago, and at them!” and, after overpowering and killing the Inca’s guard, they were to capture the emperor himself and carry him to Pizarro’s quarters.

As if to further the treacherous plan of Pizarro, the Inca sent his ambassador to say that he would leave the greater part of his army behind and would enter Cajamarca without arms. A little before sunset the royal procession began to enter the gates of the city. First came the army of menials who were employed to clear the pathway of all obstacles, as was always done in the royal progresses which the Inca was accustomed to make throughout his kingdom; following these came the heralds announcing the approach of their sovereign, the nobles and princes of the blood royal, and lastly the Inca, surrounded by his bodyguard and a few of his soldiers, all unarmed. The royal palanquin was lined with the rich plumes of tropical birds and studded with plates of gold and silver; the monarch, seated on a throne of solid gold, was magnificently attired, and wore a collar of very large and brilliant emeralds.

As the great procession entered the plaza of Cajamarca and divided into two ranks to allow the royal retinue to pass between, the Inca observed that not a Spaniard was to be seen, and inquired what had become of them. At this moment Father Valverde stepped into the square, with a crucifix in one hand and a Bible in the other, and approaching the Inca, told him that he was there by order of his commander to expound to him the true faith, for which purpose the Spaniards had come to his country. He then explained to Atahuallpa the basis of the Christian faith, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the origin of the Roman Catholic hierarchy, telling him that the pope had given the Spanish sovereign the right to conquer and convert the natives of the western hemisphere, and that Pizarro had arrived to carry out this mission; he concluded by beseeching the Inca to embrace Christianity and acknowledge himself a vassal of the Emperor Charles V., who would, in that case, aid and protect him. Atahuallpa listened to Valverde’s harangue as interpreted by Felipillo, at first showing only curiosity, then scorn and, finally, fierce indignation, as the import of its meaning dawned upon him. His brow darkened with anger when he learned that he was asked to become the vassal of another, and he exclaimed: “I am the greatest prince on earth, and will be vassal to none; as for the Pope of whom you speak, he cannot give away countries which do not belong to him; and as your God was put to death by the human beings he created, I will not have him in exchange for mine, who lives there in the heavens and watches over his children! Where did you learn these things?” Valverde handed him the Bible, which the monarch looked at as nothing to be admired, either in material or appearance; he threw it on the ground in disgust, and told the priest to inform his companions that they would be called to account for all the evil they had done in his dominions.

The Inca was about to give a royal command to his messengers, when Valverde, scandalized by the heathen’s contempt for the sacred volume, and realizing that the effort to convert Atahuallpa had resulted only in incensing the Inca so that the lives of the Spaniards were in imminent danger, called out to Pizarro to “waste no more breath on the heathen reprobate,” exclaiming with all the fervor of the frenzied fanatic: Salid á él—que yo os absuelvo! “Take him,—I absolve you all!”

Valverde thus gave the first signal of attack; Pizarro then waved a white kerchief and the gun boomed its fateful command from the fortress. In an instant the Spaniards poured into the plaza, yelling their battle-cry, while the guns kept up a deafening noise; the horses plunged into the terror-stricken ranks of the Inca’s attendants, trampling hundreds under their iron hoofs; both infantry and cavalry wrought havoc with their swords, and the plaza—a few minutes before brilliant with the splendor and gaiety of a royal train, come to honor the stranger and accept his proffered hospitality—became a scene of carnage and death, a horrible spectacle, though welcome enough to the treacherous host, whose invitation had been given with this very object in view.

It is not strange that panic seized the followers of Atahuallpa when the Spaniards made their murderous onslaught, unaccustomed as the Indians were to the sound and smoke of the cannon, the sight of rearing, prancing steeds, and the glitter of the long, sharp swords, which the bearded “palefaces” used with such deadly effect. The Inca’s nobles pressed closely around the royal litter, sheltering their beloved sovereign until cut down by the assailants, when their places were immediately filled by others. His faithful attendants sought to force back the cavaliers by clinging to their saddles and trying to unhorse them, never loosening their grip until the cruel blade of the Spaniard put an end to their pitiful efforts. So persistently did the brave nobles interpose themselves between the enemy and the sacred person of their sovereign that it seemed impossible for Pizarro’s men to secure their prize; and some of his officers would have taken the Inca’s life to prevent his eluding them, had it not been for Pizarro’s command, “Let no one harm the Inca on peril of his life!” Finally, as the fierce struggle closed in around the royal palanquin, and one after another of those who bore it aloft was slain, it was overturned, the monarch being saved from a fall by Pizarro, who caught him in his arms.

What irony of fate! The stranger whom Atahuallpa had permitted to come to the very threshold of his royal palace, without offering any hindrance; who had declared his mission to be one of peace, and had offered the service of his arms against the royal enemies; who had invited the Inca to eat at his table, a courtesy to which the monarch responded in a truly royal spirit by presenting himself unarmed to accept the hospitality;—this stranger had first insulted him through the mouth of his priest; had then attacked the invited guest, who was entirely defenceless; had turned all the force of unfamiliar arms against a panic-stricken multitude and needlessly butchered them; and, finally, had made the monarch his prisoner by catching him in his arms, as a Spaniard’s sword pierced the heart of the monarch’s last faithful protector!

The sequel to the Inca’s capture is well known. Apparently, the unfortunate victim did not at first comprehend what had passed, and it is related by one of the conquerors that, when conveyed to the royal tambo, where he dined with Pizarro the evening of the tragedy, according to his promise, the prisoner even congratulated his captor on the cleverness with which his royal person had been seized in the midst of his troops. That the disappearance of their sovereign within the Spanish quarters should have sufficed to effect the conquest of his empire, is easily explained in the very nature of his authority, which was so absolute that it governed the spirit as well as the mind and person of every creature in his realm. The Inca a prisoner? It was as if Deity had condescended to permit his omnipotence to be dominated; but how, then, could the puny effort of mere mortals avail, where the Son of the Sun himself had not resisted? When his soldiers learned that their leader no longer commanded them, the effect of such an incomprehensible, incredible, and to them, impossible, situation overwhelmed them with awe for the white man, whom they looked upon as superhuman and invincible.

The great majority of the royal army was still on the march from Cuzco at the time of Atahuallpa’s capture; and not only was there no immediate possibility of his rescue, but there was great fear in the Inca’s mind lest his half-brother, Huascar, should escape from prison and ascend the throne of Cuzco. He felt the necessity of obtaining his freedom at all costs and as speedily as possible. The astute monarch had not been slow to observe that the sight of gold produced a marvellous effect on the Spaniards, whose eyes glistened with greed when some of their party, sent to pillage the royal encampment, returned with gold and silver plate, and precious ornaments taken from the bodies of the nobles who had perished in the massacre.

The Inca took the first opportunity to appeal to Pizarro’s ruling passion by promising the Conqueror that if he would give him his freedom the Spaniards should have all the gold they wanted. Standing up in his prison and marking a place on the wall as high as he could reach, he said that he would fill the room up to that height with gold, and the adjoining room he would fill twice with silver as the price of his ransom. The brother of the Conqueror relates in his memoirs that the apartment to be filled with gold was thirty-five feet long by eighteen feet wide! Pizarro accepted Atahuallpa’s offer, though there is nothing to indicate that he held himself in any way bound to fulfil his part of the contract. Perfidious to the last degree in every relation of his life, it is not strange that he should have shown toward a captive and a heathen the same disregard for his word as appeared in his dealings with his best friends. Meantime he set to work assiduously, with the help of Father Valverde, to prove to Atahuallpa that the faith of the Spaniards was the only true faith; and his unanswerable argument was that the Spaniards’ God had brought victory to his children, while the Inca’s deity had deserted his own in their hour of need;—which the Inca found it impossible to deny.

While the Inca’s couriers were collecting the royal treasure from the temples and palaces of Tahuantinsuyo and despatching it from the four quarters of the empire to Cajamarca, the imprisoned monarch continued to live in the Spanish quarters, free to go about in the apartments that had been reserved for his use, and treated with the respect due to his rank, though always under strict surveillance. He was allowed the society of his wives, and could receive visits from his nobles who came daily to bring presents and to offer condolence. Through these messengers he learned that Huascar was plotting to escape from captivity and secure the throne, and that he had sent word to the Spaniards promising to raise a greater ransom than Atahuallpa could obtain, who had never been in Cuzco and knew nothing of its wealth. These reports both angered and alarmed the Inca, who knew very well that his half-brother’s claim to the throne would meet with a powerful support among his former subjects if Huascar should gain his freedom, and that such an event would of itself suffice to convince the whole nation that Huascar was favored by their deity, and that Atahuallpa’s captivity was the just punishment of a usurper. This condition of affairs was eminently satisfactory to Pizarro, who saw that whichever sovereign he chose to support must be in reality his vassal, and that between the two he was likely to collect into his coffers all the treasures of Peru.

Although the historians of the Conquest generally agree that Huascar met a violent death by the secret orders of his brother, the chroniclers of that time were, as a rule, not impartial in their statements, and it is known only that Huascar was assassinated,—by whose order is not certain. Pizarro was enraged when he heard of Huascar’s death and immediately charged Atahuallpa with the crime. A stronger guard was placed to watch the Inca’s apartments and he was under constant suspicion. Pizarro held him responsible also for delays in the arrival of the royal treasure, until the Inca, to prove his good faith, offered to provide safe-conduct to any officers the Spaniards might send to superintend its collection and transport. Emissaries of Pizarro were despatched to Pachacámac and Cuzco, which Atahuallpa indicated as the chief repositories of wealth, though the messenger found Pachacámac already dismantled of its treasures when he arrived; what became of its gold has never been learned. The soldiers commissioned to collect the treasures of Cuzco returned with marvellous stories of its wealth and magnificence. They found the Temple of the Sun “literally covered with plates of gold,” which they stripped from its sacred walls in such a frenzy of avarice that the natives were disgusted beyond measure. The historian Herrera says they secured seven hundred gold plates, ten or twelve inches in diameter, besides other rich ornaments, though they did not accomplish their mission so successfully as they would have done had they been less brutal and rapacious in their conduct.

Pizarro would have liked to go on to Cuzco himself and secure possession of the Imperial capital; but, as the reinforcements that Almagro was to bring from Panamá had not arrived, he feared to undertake such a journey, protected only by a small force, especially as the safe-keeping of the Inca would require a powerful guard when passing through the heart of his populous dominions. While the emissaries were on their way to get the Inca’s treasure, Almagro reached Cajamarca with one hundred and fifty men and fifty horses, besides plenty of ammunition; and Pizarro at once began to lay his plans for the proposed march to Cuzco. Meanwhile the pile of gold was rapidly increasing, and though it did not reach the promised height, it amounted, in all, to more than fifteen million dollars in value, and was the largest ransom that had ever been paid by a sovereign captive. In spite of the impatience of his jailers, Atahuallpa had accomplished wonders in the prompt collection of such a vast treasure, brought from long distances, over mountains and across rivers, by the most primitive method of transport. He was beginning to feel very happy in his fancied security, and looked forward to completing his ransom without the slightest difficulty, when events occurred, or were reported to have occurred, which gave Pizarro an excuse to claim the ransom without releasing his prisoner,—indeed, while condemning him to a cruel death.

As the magnificent treasure of gold and silver grew before the eyes of the Conquerors, their avarice became too strong to be controlled by any sentiment of justice or consideration, and they refused to wait longer for a division of the spoils; they urged many reasons why the gold should be melted down and divided without further delay, and at last Pizarro gave the necessary orders. It was agreed that some rare and beautiful vases, utensils of the temples, ornaments, and curious imitations of plants and animals, should be sent, intact, as part of the royal fifth, to the Spanish sovereign. When the division of the prize was made, Pizarro kept the Inca’s gold throne, and became the possessor of nearly a million dollars as his share of the treasure. His brother received one-fourth of this amount and Hernando de Soto much less.

When the Inca saw that the price of his ransom had been seized and divided among his captors he very naturally demanded his freedom. But Pizarro placed expediency far above justice, and he had no intention of releasing the captive. On the other hand, he was anxious to get on to Cuzco. He did not want to be burdened with the care of the royal prisoner, if it could be avoided. What was to be done? To one of Pizarro’s character, the end in view was of so much greater importance than the means by which he gained it, that it is not likely he would have found difficulty in securing a pretext for the execution of Atahuallpa, if necessary. But, again good fortune brought to his hand the weapon for his destructive purpose, in the form of rumors to the effect that the friends of Atahuallpa were planning an attack on the Spaniards, and that a large force was encamped only a hundred miles from the city, ready to march on them, seize their gold and carry off the Inca. The unfortunate prisoner was at once charged with being the author of the plot, which probably originated in Pizarro’s own fertile brain. There was a vehement demand for his execution. Pizarro appeared unwilling to take such extreme measures and sent Hernando de Soto—Atahuallpa’s best friend in the camp—at the head of an expedition to find out the truth about the rumored uprising. While De Soto was absent, Pizarro “consented to listen to the importunities of his soldiers,” held a trial in which the Inca was proved guilty of having usurped the throne; of assassinating his brother; of fraud, idolatry, polygamy, and, finally, of attempting to excite an insurrection against the Spaniards. He was condemned to be burnt to death that very night in the plaza; but, in case that he embraced the Christian religion and was baptized, his sentence would be commuted to death by strangulation.

The annals of crime furnish no more odious example of heartless cruelty than is shown in Pizarro’s treatment of the Inca sovereign. Not in a single instance did the Conqueror keep faith with the Indian emperor, whom he seized by fraud, persecuted on the flimsiest pretexts, and murdered without a shred of evidence against the condemned. Is it any wonder that when the news of the verdict was conveyed to Atahuallpa he was overwhelmed by the horror of it, and exclaimed: “What have I done that I should meet with such a fate?” It is said that Pizarro was visibly affected when the doomed prince turned to him, and said: “And from your hands, too—you, who have met with friendship and kindness from my people, with whom I have shared my treasures, who have received nothing but benefits from my hands!” But however Pizarro may have been affected, he did not allow any softer impulse to sway him from inflicting death by the garrote on the innocent victim of his ambition.

Two hours after sunset on the 29th of August, 1533, the emperor of the Incas was led out, chained hand and foot, into the plaza which he had entered a few months before as the proud and powerful representative of a noble dynasty. And the mighty change had been wrought entirely through his too friendly protection of a band of invaders, his too princely welcome to a treacherous chief, and his too lavish gifts to an unscrupulous enemy. The ceremony of baptism was performed by Father Valverde, as the Inca had consented to embrace Christianity rather than be burned at the stake. It is related that Atahuallpa implored Pizarro to take compassion on his young children and protect them, after which he resigned himself to his fate and met death without giving a sign. The official obsequies were performed the following day, Father Valverde reading the service of the dead, while Pizarro and the principal cavaliers attended in deep mourning.

The execution of Atahuallpa did not take place any too soon, so far as Pizarro’s designs were concerned, for Hernando de Soto returned to Cajamarca a couple of days later with the news that the whole story of an uprising was a canard and Atahuallpa was innocent! Great was the sorrow and indignation of De Soto to learn that the Inca had been executed; for this brave cavalier was a friend of the unhappy monarch and had shielded him on more than one occasion when the fierce temper of the soldiers threatened him with harm. Pizarro quailed before the noble spirit of his braver and better comrade, and sought to throw the blame on Valverde, who in turn repudiated all share of responsibility in the shameful business, saying he had acted only as Pizarro’s chaplain. It was evident that no one cared to father the fraud by which, under the name of justice, the Inca’s death had been accomplished.

The execution of Atahuallpa completed the Conquest of Peru. The sovereignty of the Inca emperor had been too absolute for its own well-being, and in the hour of peril, the humble subjects, who had responded with such perfect obedience to the will of an autocrat, were powerless to move without his guiding finger, possessing in themselves neither initiative nor self-reliance, qualities that thrive only in the free air of independence, under the sunlight of hope. That the despotism of the Incas was a mighty power, exercised with genius and worthiness, cannot be denied; industry was the basis of its greatness, and protection the keynote to its prosperity; every subject of the Children of the Sun must earn his bread by honest labor, though he was always sure of being fed. But the very fact that such a despotism could be annihilated by a mere handful of adventurers, and that, within the space of a few months, its institutions could fall to pieces and its people be made slaves to this band of invaders whom they outnumbered by millions, proves that it was not a system strong enough to hold its own in the progress of nations. One cannot help regretting, however, that such a flourishing empire was not permitted to fulfil its own destiny; perhaps it might have developed, through the refining influence of the national ideals, from an absolute theocracy to a more liberal form of government.

With the overthrow of the Incas, the land that had bloomed perennially with the fruits of husbandry became a scene of anarchy and a neglected waste; the highroads, instead of presenting a pleasant spectacle in groups of contented farm laborers, on their way to fulfil the daily tasks that were to bring them both bodily and spiritual reward, were thronged with heavy-hearted, over-worked, and poorly fed slaves.

As soon as the obstacle of Atahuallpa’s presence was removed, Pizarro and his followers set out for Cuzco, marking their progress by the demolition of Inca temples along the route, the seizure of treasure, and all the outrages which an unrestrained soldiery of brutal instincts will commit under such circumstances. Everywhere the emblems of the Sun worship were replaced by images of the Virgin and Child, and the few efforts at resistance that were made by the terror-stricken natives were easily overcome by the soldiers of the Cross. An uprising of some importance took place near Jauja, under the command of the Inca’s favorite general, but it was quelled and the leader burned at the stake. A brother of Huascar, the Inca Manco, sought an interview with the Spaniards and put forth his claims to the throne of his fathers, asking Pizarro’s protection. As it did not in any way interfere with Pizarro’s plans, but rather promised to further them, the Conqueror caused Manco to be crowned at Cuzco, the ceremony being more like an acknowledgment of vassalage to Spain than the coronation of a royal heir of the Inca dynasty. However, the outward semblance of royalty counted for much among the Inca’s subjects, who, at that time, no doubt had very confused ideas as to Pizarro’s place in the government, and were contented as long as the crimson masca paicha adorned the brow of an Inca prince. By this politic proceeding, the governor, as Pizarro was now called, was able to begin the colonization of the country, though only after all the temples, palaces, fortresses, and tombs of the holy city had been stripped of their last treasures,—the amount secured being even greater than the ransom of Atahuallpa,—was it possible to establish the institutions of peaceful government.

Leaving Cuzco to be ruled by one of his brothers, Pizarro set out for the coast to learn the intentions of a newly arrived adventurer, Pedro de Alvarado, who had been with Cortés in Mexico, and had come to seek a fresh field for his military prowess in Peru, having heard of the Conquest and of the enormous booty secured by the discoverers. Pizarro met Alvarado at Pachacámac, where they came to a friendly understanding, and spent some time together in social entertainment, after which Alvarado departed for Guatemala, and Pizarro, who had long realized that Cuzco was too inaccessible to be a satisfactory metropolis for the new colonial empire, began to plan for the foundation of a suitable capital on the coast. He concluded that the neighboring valley of Rimac offered desirable advantages, and here the site was chosen on the 6th of January, 1535, the new capital being named the City of the Kings in honor of the festival of Twelfth Night. The popular name, however, has always been Lima, a corruption of the Indian “Rimac.” The founding of the city did not take place until two weeks after the selection of the site.

The foundation of Lima marks the closing period in the history of the Conquest, a period in which that remarkable drama of warring ambition reached a final scene in keeping with the tragic story. When the royal fifth of the enormous treasure taken from the Inca’s dominions arrived at the court of Spain, the whole country went mad with excitement over such a mountain of gold. Charles was overcome with delight and manifested his appreciation of the great service rendered by Pizarro, Almagro and Valverde, by giving to the first the title of Marquis with seventy leagues more of territory southward; to Almagro two hundred leagues, beginning at the southern boundary of Pizarro’s dominions; and to Father Valverde the bishopric of Cuzco. Father Luque had died at Panamá, after warning Almagro to be on his guard in his dealings with Pizarro, whom the honest priest distrusted from the first. Following his advice, and profiting by his own previous experience, Almagro had sent his personal representative to Spain with Hernando Pizarro, when that cavalier was commissioned to carry the royal fifth to the king. The Conqueror and his marshal, as Almagro was called, no sooner received news of the division of their possessions than they began to quarrel over the limits. Almagro claimed Cuzco in his province of New Toledo, while Pizarro insisted that the Inca capital belonged to his dominion, which was called New Castile. Pizarro went to Cuzco, met Almagro and persuaded him to allow the matter to rest until Hernando should arrive from Panamá with the documents; the two embraced and swore undying loyalty to each other, after which Almagro set out to conquer Chile, while Pizarro returned to the task which gave him more pleasure than any other, the building of the new capital of Peru. He also founded the city of Trujillo, naming it after his birthplace in Spain.

Meantime the young Inca Manco had been laying plans for revolt, goaded to desperation by the insults which he and his people suffered from the Spaniards. Not only were the temples robbed, the practice of his religion being forbidden, but gross treatment was shown to the priests and all manner of outrages were committed. The women of the convents were turned into the streets to become the prey of a vicious soldiery. Twice the Inca made his escape, and the second time he succeeded in collecting a large army, but their arrows and sling-stones made little impression on the Spanish coat of mail, and only their copper-tipped lances and battle-axes of the same material served in the fight; these weapons they used so dexterously that the enemy was forced to retreat to Cuzco, which the Indians promptly surrounded and set on fire, preferring to burn their holy city to the ground to seeing it in possession of the hated conquerors. Their revolt was so determined and persistent that Pizarro became alarmed and sent reinforcements and supplies to his countrymen, who were in dire straits for several weeks, shut up in the half-demolished city, while the Indians held possession of the fortress of Sacsahuaman and all the mountain passes around. Manco himself occupied the fortress of Ollantaytambo, which the Spaniards attacked unsuccessfully, being forced to retreat to Cuzco without effecting his capture. Although the Spanish arms finally prevailed and the Inca’s forces were scattered, this proud and heroic prince continued to harass the usurpers of his kingdom for years, so that his name was held in terror by the colonists, until he was at last assassinated by a party of Spaniards to whom he had given shelter in his camp.

Almagro’s expedition to Chile having proved a failure, the adventurer returned to establish his claim to Cuzco. He was met by Pizarro’s brother, Hernando, his old enemy, and was defeated near Cuzco, imprisoned and put to death by the Conqueror’s orders. To his son he bequeathed the province of New Toledo. But Pizarro saw in the death of his old comrade an opportunity to unite the two provinces under one government, and he refused to recognize the claim of the younger Almagro, which so incensed the veteran followers of Pizarro’s latest victim that they swore a terrible vengeance on the usurping governor. Driven to desperation by the apparent hopelessness of their cause, and eager to avenge the death of their beloved leader—for Almagro had been the idol of his soldiers, whose devotion he held by unfailing kindness and generosity—“those of Chile,” as they were contemptuously called by Pizarro’s men, were ready to commit any crime that would rid them of the domination of the hated Conqueror. Under the leadership of Juan de Rada, who, on the death of the senior Almagro, constituted himself the guardian and champion of the son, affectionately known among Almagro’s men as El Mozo, the conspirators laid their plans against the life of the governor with consummate skill and daring. Pizarro was warned of their purpose, which had been revealed in the confessional; but he paid no heed to danger, and was entertaining a number of friends at breakfast when the fatal hour arrived.

Whatever may be said of Pizarro’s character, he was no coward, and when the assassins rushed into his house with the shout “Long live the King! Death to the tyrant!” they were met by the Conqueror, who, not having time to buckle on his armor, threw his capa, or cloak, over his shoulder and faced his enemies, sword in hand. After a brave resistance, he sank down with a fatal wound in the throat. Wetting his finger in his own blood, he traced a cross on the floor, and was bending to kiss the sacred symbol, when the coup de grâce put an end to his life. Thus, in the last moment, the heart of the Crusader triumphed over the instincts of the gold-seeker!

The burial of Pizarro was attended by none of the pomp and ceremony usually observed in the obsequies of a great hero; on the contrary, the interment was hasty and stealthy, performed in fear and trembling lest it should be interrupted and the corpse dragged to the market place. Not until more than half a century later were the bones of the discoverer and conqueror of Peru removed to their present resting place in the Cathedral of Lima. With the death of Francisco Pizarro the period of the Conquest ends, as the pretensions of the younger Almagro, who caused himself to be proclaimed Governor and Captain-General of Peru after the assassination of the Conqueror, were not recognized by the King of Spain, who sent Vaca de Castro to coöperate with Pizarro in establishing peace in Peru, with authorization to take the reins of government in his own hands in case of Pizarro’s death. As soon as Vaca de Castro arrived, he assumed the position of governor and captain-general, and, gathering under his command the soldiers who remained loyal to the king, he at once marched against Almagro, whom he defeated on the plains of Chupas, near Ayacucho, in September, 1542. Almagro escaped from the battlefield and fled to Cuzco, where he was taken prisoner and, by the governor’s order, was beheaded. About the same time, Bishop Valverde was assassinated by the Indians of Puná while on his way to Panamá. Thus the leading spirits in the invasion and conquest of Peru met with a violent death; Hernando Pizarro languished in a Spanish prison for twenty years, and Hernando de Soto died in the wilds of the Mississippi forests.