Peruvian Traditions

by Palma, Richardo; Lane, Helen R. ; Conway, Christopher

  1Alexander von Humboldt (1769–1859), German naturalist and author of the Voyage de Humboldt et Bonpland aux régions équinoxiales de nouveau continent, fait en 1799 (18051834).—Ed.

  2Palma visited Guayaquil twice: once in 1859, during a short war between Peru and Ecuador, and in 1865, when he sailed home from Europe because of increasing tensions between Spain and Peru over the Chincha islands, which ultimately resulted in war between the two countries.—Ed.

  3José Joaquín Olmedo (1780–1847), author of “Victoria de Junín,” a neoclassical epic in celebration of Bolívar’s triumph at the Battle of Junín (1824).—Ed.

  4Yaraví is a song that fuses elements of Hispanic and native Andean culture and that is commonly accompanied by guitar and flute.—Ed.

  5A rustic flute.

  6The Genealogy of the Saint and Bishop of Hippo.

  7Baptism.

  8Juan León Mera (1832–1894), author of the novel Cumandá (1879). Here Palma references La vírgen del sol: leyenda; Melodías indígenas (1887).—Ed.

  9The Miracle of the Weighing of the Candles.

  Second Series

  The Knights of the Cape

  A Chronicle of a Civil War

  (To don Juan de la Pezuela, count of Cheste)

  I

  Who the Knights of the Cape Were and the Oath They Swore

  On the afternoon of June 5, 1541, 12 Spaniards, all of whom had been rewarded by the king for their exploits during the conquest of Peru, were gathered together at the home of Pedro de San Millán.

  The house that sheltered them consisted of a parlor and five other rooms, leaving a large plot of ground on which to build. Six leather armchairs, an oak bench, and a grimy table flush against the wall were the only furniture in the parlor. Hence the house, like the attire of those who lived there, revealed from a mile away one of those sorts of poverty that rubs elbows with beggary. And this was in fact the case.

  The 12 hidalgos belonged to the number of those vanquished in the battle of Salinas on April 6, 1538.1The victor had confiscated their properties, but thankfully, he had allowed them to breathe the air of Lima, where they lived on the charity of friends. The victor could have hanged them without much ado, as was the custom of that era, but don Francisco Pizarro was ahead of his time and seemed to be a man of our day, when one’s enemies are not always killed or imprisoned, but are deprived, in whole or in part, of their ration of bread. The fallen and the upright, the satiated and the starved: that was the colony, and that has been and is the republic. The law of the hammer and the anvil ruling every time the tables turned, or as the song has it:

  We got out of Guate–mala

  And entered Guate–peor:2

  the tambourine changes hands,

  but it sounds the same as before.

  or as they say in Italy: being free of the barbarians only to end up with the Barberini.

  The 12 cavaliers were named Pedro de San Millán, Cristóbal de Sotelo, García de Alvarado, Francisco de Chaves, Martín de Bilbao, Diego Méndez, Juan Rodríguez Barragán, Gómez Pérez, Diego de Hoces, Martín Carrillo, Jerónimo de Almagro, and Juan Tello.

  Because of the importance of the role they play in this chronicle, we shall sketch a brief likeness of each one of the noblemen, beginning with the owner of the house. A tout seigneur tout honneur.3

  Pedro de San Millán, Knight of the Order of Santiago, was 38 years old and was among the number of the 170 conquistadors who had captured Atahualpa. When the Inca’s ransom was divided up, he received 135 silver marks and 3,330 doubloons. A loyal friend of Marshal don Diego de Almagro, he followed the latter’s ill–fated colors, thereby falling into disgrace with the Pizarro brothers, who confiscated his fortune, leaving him as alms the dismantled property on the calle de Judíos, or as the saying goes: A small cage is quite big enough for a sparrow. In his earlier days when fortune smiled upon him, San Millõn had been an extravagant spendthrift; he was valiant, of graceful bearing, and his men were generally devoted to him.

  Cristóbal de Sotelo was going on 55, and as a soldier who had fought in Europe his advice was held in great esteem. He was captain of infantry in the battle of Salinas.

  García de Alvarado was a most arrogant young man of 28, with a martial air about him, instinctively overbearing, very ambitious, and paid what he deemed himself worth. There was something of the rogue and the rascal about him.

  Diego Méndez, of the Order of Santiago, was the brother of the famous general Rodrigo Ordóñez who died in the battle of Salinas, in which he was leader of the losing army. Méndez was 43, and had a reputation not so much as a soldier as a Don Juan and a courtier.

  As for Francisco de Chaves, Martín de Bilbao, Diego de Hoces, Gómez Pérez, and Martín Carrillo, the chroniclers tell us only that they were intrepid soldiers and beloved by their men. None of them lived to be 35. Juan Tello, the Sevillian, was one of the 12 founders of Lima, the others being Marquis Pizarro, the treasurer Alonso Riquelme, the Comptroller García de Salcedo, the Sevillian Nicolõs de Ribera the elder, Ruiz Díaz, Rodrigo Mazuelas, Cristóbal de Peralta, Alonso Martín de Don Benito, Cristóbal Palomino, the Salamancan Nicolõs de Ribera the younger, and Antonio Picado, the secretary. The first mayors of the town council of Lima were Ribera the Elder and Juan Tello. As is evident, the latter had been an important personage and at the time that we are portraying him he was 46 years old.

  Jerónimo de Almagro had been born in the same city as Marshal Almagro and because of this circumstance and that of their common surname, they called each other cousin. In truth they were not related, for don Diego was a poor foundling. Jerónimo was approaching 40.

  Juan Rodríguez Barragõn was the same age, held to be a man of great daring as well as great experience.

  It is common knowledge that, just as in our day no man who respects himself would go out on the street in his shirt sleeves, so in bygone days no man who aspired to be considered decent dared appear in public without his cape. Be it cold weather or hot, the Spaniard of old and the cape went together, whether it was out walking, banqueting, or on feast days of the Church. For this reason I suspect that the decree issued by the minister Monteagudo in 1822 forbidding Spaniards to wear the cape had for the independence of Peru the same importance as a battle won by the insurgents. Once the cape was abolished, Spain disappeared.

  To make matters even worse for our 12 hidalgos, they had only one cape between them, and when one of them was obliged to go out, the rest of them were kept inside for lack of the indispensable garment.

  Antonio Picado, Marquis don Francisco Pizarro’s secretary, or better put, the demon who was dooming Pizarro to perdition, when speaking one day of the hidalgos called them the “Knights of the Cape.” The nickname caught on and soon was on everyone’s lips.

  A brief biographical note on Picado is to the point here.

  Picado came to Peru in 1534 as secretary to the Marshal don Pedro de Alvarado, he of the famous leap in Mexico.4When Alvarado, maintaining that certain territories in the North were not included within the boundaries of Pizarro’s conquest as fixed by the emperor, was about to do battle with the forces of don Diego de Almagro, Picado sold the latter the secrets of his chief, and one night, fearing that his treachery would be discovered, he fled to the enemy camp. The marshal sent troops in pursuit of him, and when they were unsuccessful wrote to don Diego that he would not enter into any agreement whatsoever with him unless he handed over the person of his disloyal secretary. The chivalrous Almagro refused to accede to Pizarro’s demand, thus saving the life of a man who later was to bring such disaster to him and his men.

  Don Francisco Pizarro took Picado on as his secretary, and the latter exerted a fateful and decisive influence over the marquis, for it was Picado who, by getting the better of the governor’s generous impulses, made him cling to a policy of hostility toward those whose only crime was having lost the battle of Salinas.

  By the year 1541 it was known for a fact that the monarch, on being informed on what w
as happening in this realm, was sending out the bachelor–at–law don Cristóbal Vaca de Castro to impeach the governor, and the partisans of Almagro, readying themselves to ask for justice for the murder of don Diego, sent captains Alonso Portocarrero and Juan Balsa to report to this envoy of the crown so as to forewarn him. But the investigating magistrate had not arrived as yet in the City of Kings; illness and bad weather at sea were delaying him.

  Meanwhile Pizarro tried to win friends even among the Knights of the Cape and sent messages to Sotelo, Chaves, and others, offering to extricate them from the sorry state of paupers in which they were living. But to the honor of the Almagrists, it is only fitting to record that they did not humble themselves to accept this crust of bread thrown their way.

  With matters having reached such a pass, Picado’s insolence grew by the day, and there was no excuse for his way of insulting the “men from Chile,” as Almagro’s supporters were called. Incensed, the men from Chile hung three lengths of rope from the scaffold one night, with placards that read: “For Pizarro”—“For Picado”—“For Velõzquez.”

  On learning of this affront, the marquis, far from being discountenanced, said with a smile:

  “Poor wretches! We must give them some breathing room. They have had enough misfortune without our troubling them further. They are gamblers who have lost and as such they are going to extremes.”

  But Picado felt, as his name suggests, piqued, and that afternoon, the fifth of June, attired in a doublet and a short French cape with repoussé silver embroidery, and mounted on a spirited steed, paraded back and forth, making the horse caracole, in front of the gates of Juan de Rada, young Almagro’s guardian, and those of San Millõn’s home, the residence of the 12 hidalgos, carrying his provocation to the point that, when a number of them showed themselves, he made a rude gesture, shouting: “For the men from Chile” and put his spurs to his mount.

  The Knights of the Cape immediately summoned Juan de Rada. Pizarro had offered Almagro the Younger, who was left an orphan at the age of 19, to be a second father to him, and to that end had taken him to live at his palace; but when the youth, tired of hearing words demeaning the memory of the marshal and his friends, he broke off with the marquis and became the ward of Juan de Rada. The latter, a lively and respected elderly man who belonged to a noble family of Castile, was held to be a man of great prudence and experience. He lived in rooms in the arcade of the Botoneros—the name passementerie workers who are known elsewhere as pasamanerosgo by to this day—a few blocks of which is known to this day as the callejón de los Clérigos. Rada saw in the person of Almagro the Younger a son and a flag around which to rally to avenge the death of the marshal, and all the men from Chile, who numbered over 200, while recognizing the young don Diego as their leader, looked to Rada to give the revolutionary troops impetus and direction.

  Rada swiftly answered the call of the Knights of the Cape. The elderly man presented himself, seething with indignation at Picado’s most recent affront, and the group resolved not to await justice at the hands of the envoy that the crown was sending, but to proceed to punish the marquis and his insolent secretary themselves.

  García de Alvarado, who was wearing the cape of the company of knights, threw it onto the ground, and stepping upon it, said:

  “Let us swear, for the salvation of our souls, to die safeguarding the rights of young Almagro, and to cut from this cape the shroud of Antonio Picado.”

  II

  Concerning the Daring Undertaking Carried Out by the Knights of the Cape

  Things could not be planned in secret to the point that the marquis would not notice that the men from Chile were frequently gathering together, that there reigned among them a pent–up excitement, that they were buying arms, and that, when Rada and Almagro the Younger went out on the street, they were followed, at a distance and under the guise of an escort, by a group of their supporters. Nonetheless, the marquis ordered no special measures.

  In the midst of this lack of action on the part of the governor, the latter received letters from the authorities of different cities informing him that the men from Chile were openly paving the way for an uprising throughout the country. These accusations and others obliged him to send for Juan de Rada one morning.

  The latter found the governor in the garden of the palace, at the foot of a fig tree that is still there today, and according to Herrera in his Décadas,5the following conversation took place between the two of them:

  “What is this, Juan de Rada? I am told that you’ve been buying arms to kill me.”

  “In all truth, sir, I have bought two cuirasses and a coat of mail to defend myself.”

  “But what moves you today, more than at some other time, to procure arms for yourself?”

  “Because we are told, sir, and it is common knowledge that Your Lordship is collecting lances to kill all of us. Let Your Lordship finish us off and do with us as you please, for since you have lopped off our head, I’ve no idea why you should respect our feet. People are also saying that Your Lordship is thinking of killing the magistrate who is being sent by the king. If such is your intention and you decide to kill the men from Chile, do not kill all of them. Let Your Lordship send don Diego into exile on a ship, for he is innocent, and I shall go with him wherever fortune may take us.”

  “Who has made you suspect such great treachery and evil intent as that? Such a thought never entered my mind, and I am more anxious than you to see the magistrate arrive, as he already would have had he agreed to board the galleon that I sent to Panama to bring him here. As for the arms, I will have you know that I went out hunting the other day, and among all of those in our party none of us was carrying a lance, so I sent my servants to buy one, and they bought four. May it please God, Juan de Rada, that the royal envoy should arrive and these matters have an end, and may He uphold the truth!”

  Not for nothing has it been said that good counsel comes from one’s enemy. Perhaps Pizarro would not have come to his unhappy end if, as the keen–witted Rada advised him, he had exiled Almagro on the spot.

  The conversation continued on a friendly note, and when Rada took his leave, Pizarro gave him six figs that he cut from the tree with his own hand; they were among the first to have been grown in Lima.

  With this interview don Francisco thought that he had averted all danger, and he continued to disregard the warnings that he continually received.

  On the afternoon of June 25, a priest sent word to the marquis that under the secrecy of the confessional he had learned that the Almagrists were plannning an attempt on his life in the near future.

  “That priest is after a bishopric,” the marquis replied, and with his usual disregard for danger went without an escort to take a stroll and play bowls, accompanied by Nicolõs de Ribera the Elder.

  As he was going to bed, the little page who was helping him undress said to him:

  “Milord, there is nothing to be heard on the streets save that the men from Chile want to kill Your Lordship.”

  “Bah! Leave off listening to such prattle, my boy, for such matters aren’t for your ears,” Pizarro interrupted him.

  Sunday June 26 dawned, and the marquis arose somewhat concerned.

  At nine o’clock he summoned the mayor, Juan de Velõzquez, and advised him to try to keep himself informed of the plans of the men from Chile, and if he suspected any serious attempt on his life, to proceed forthwith to arrest their leader and his principal friends. Velõzquez gave him this answer, which in the light of what happened has a certain humor:

  “Your Lordship need not worry, for as long as I have this ceremonial staff of office in my hand, I swear before God that no harm will be done you!”

  Contrary to his habit, Pizarro did not attend Mass at a church, but ordered that one be said in the palace chapel.

  It appears that Velõzquez did not keep the marquis’s order a secret as he should have, and spoke of it with the treasurer Alonso Riquelme and several others. It thus came to the atten
tion of Pedro de San Millõn, who went to Rada’s residence, where many of the conspirators were forgathered. He shared what he knew with them and added: “It is time to act, for if we set aside our plan till tomorrow, we will be quartered today.”

  As the others scattered throughout the city to carry out various tasks, Juan de Rada, Martín de Bilbao, Diego Méndez, Cristóbal de Sosa, Martín Carrillo, Pedro de San Millõn, Juan de Porras, Gómez Pérez, Arbolancha, Narvõez and others, until they numbered 19 conspirators, set out in a hurry from the calle de los Clérigos (and not that of the mat makers, as is commonly believed), heading for the governor’s palace. Gómez Pérez skirted a puddle so as not to step into it, and Juan de Rada upbraided him: “We’re about to bathe ourselves in human blood, and milord is being careful not to get his feet wet? Turn around and go back; you’re of no use to us.”

  More than 500 persons, passersby or people going to twelve o’clock Mass, were in the Plaza de Armas at the time and indifferently watched the group go by. Certain suspicious individuals confined themselves to saying: “Those men are going to kill the marquis or Picado.”

  The marquis, governor, and captain general of Peru, don Francisco Pizarro was chatting in one of the drawing rooms of the palace with the bishop–elect of Quito, Mayor Velõzquez, and some 15 friends more, when a page rushed in shouting: “The men from Chile are coming to kill milord the marquis.”

  The confusion was frightful. Some of them rushed down the halls to the garden, and others climbed out the windows to the street, among the latter Mayor Velõzquez, who, in order to get a better hold on a balustrade, placed his ceremonial staff between his teeth. He thereby kept the oath he had sworn to three hours before, for if the marquis found himself in danger, it was because Velõzquez did not have his staff in his hand but in his mouth.

  Pizarro, whose cuirass was not tightly fastened because he did not have enough space to finish girding himself for battle, with his cape across his chest as a shield and sword in hand, came out to fight the conspirators, who had already killed a captain and wounded three or four servants. The marquis was accompanied by his half brother Martín de Alcõntara, Juan Ortiz de Zõrate, and two pages.