THE present volume, which has been selected for issue by the Hakluyt Society, contains the Second Part of the Chronicle of Peru, by Pedro de Cieza de Leon. The First Part formed one of the Society’s volumes for 1864, having been translated from the Antwerp edition of 1554.

When I translated and edited the First Part, no other had been printed. I then had reason to believe that the author completed the second and third parts of his Chronicle, and that one of these parts had come into the possession of Mr. Lenox of New York, in manuscript. I lamented the disappearance of the Second Part, and referred to it as one of the greatest losses that had been sustained by South American literature.[2]

It has now been discovered that the manuscript narrative which Mr. Prescott frequently refers to, in his History of the Conquest of Peru, as “Sarmiento”, and which he considered to be one of the most valuable of his authorities, is in reality the Second Part of the work of Cieza de Leon. Mr. Prescott quotes the title in his critical notice,[3] “para el Illmo SeÑor Dn. Juan Sarmiento, Presidente del Consejo Rl. de Indias”, and assumes that this Don Juan Sarmiento was the author, who, after having travelled in all parts of Peru and diligently collected information from the Ynca nobles, subsequently became President of the Council of the Indies. In reality, the word para means “for”, and not “by”, and the manuscript is simply addressed to Dr. Sarmiento, who never crossed the Atlantic in his life, and who only held the post of President of the Council of the Indies for twenty months.[4]

Mr. Prescott made much use of both parts, and considered them to be works of great merit. If what he says in praise of the author he supposed to be Sarmiento,[5] is added to what he says of Cieza de Leon,[6] it will at once be seen that the latter, really the only author, is a very important authority indeed.

It is with a feeling of reverential regret that the present editor refers to any mistake, even one so slight as this, of the illustrious American historian. Some of my brightest and happiest memories are of the ten days I spent at Pepperell with Mr. Prescott, when I was on the eve of commencing my studies in the land of the Yncas. He it was who encouraged me to undertake my Peruvian investigations, and to persevere in them. To his kindly advice and assistance I owe more than I can say, and to him is due, in no small degree, the value of anything I have since been able to do in furtherance of Peruvian research.

The evidence that the work attributed by Prescott to Sarmiento is in reality the Second Part of the Chronicle of Cieza de Leon is quite conclusive. There are no less than ten occasions on which the author of the Second Part (Prescott’s “Sarmiento”) refers to passages in his First Part, which occur in the First Part of Cieza de Leon.[7] In one place there is a reference in the Second Part to the actual number of the chapter in the First Part.[8] In the Second Part, the author mentions having gone to Toledo to present the First Part of his Chronicle to the Prince Don Felipe;[9] and this statement is equivalent to having signed his name. For only one First Part of a chronicle relating to the Indies was dedicated to the Prince, namely that of Cieza de Leon. The author of the Second Part also mentions having been to Bahaire, near Cartagena, and to the province of Arma—places visited by Cieza de Leon, and mentioned in his First Part.

The manuscript of the Second Part was preserved in the library of the Escurial,[10] in a bad copy dating from the middle, or end, of the 16th century. The first sheet is missing, and the second begins in the middle of a sentence towards the end of the third chapter. Thus the two opening chapters and part of the third are lost.

The text of the Escurial manuscript has been printed by two accomplished scholars—the Peruvian Dr. Manuel Gonzalez de la Rosa in 1873; and the Spaniard Don Marcos Jimenez de la Espada at Madrid in 1880. Both, independently, detected the mistake of Prescott as soon as they began to examine the text critically. The text was reprinted by Dr. de la Rosa with scrupulous care; the spelling, imperfect punctuation, and capricious use of capitals in the manuscript being very carefully preserved. But instead of retaining the manuscript numbering of chapters, Dr. de la Rosa omits the fragment of chapter iii, and calls the fourth chapter, chapter i. An edition was printed off by Mr. TrÜbner, but soon afterwards Dr. de la Rosa left London for Peru, without completing the editorial work. So that this edition of the second part of Cieza de Leon has never been editorially completed or published, and remains on Mr. TrÜbner’s hands.

Don Marcos Jimenez de la Espada, to whom the student of Peruvian history is so much indebted for other precious editorial work, delayed his publication of the text of the Second Part of Cieza de Leon, because he had heard from Don Pascual de Gayangos that the learned Peruvian, Dr. de la Rosa, was engaged upon the same work. It was not until 1880 that the edition of Espada was published at Madrid.[11] The Spanish editor has corrected the spelling and punctuation, and has supplied many useful notes. Five copies appear to have been made of the Escurial manuscript. One, very carelessly executed, is in the Academy of History at Madrid. The second was in the collection of Lord Kingsborough, from which was copied, through Mr. Rich’s agency, the one supplied to Mr. Prescott, which is the third. The fourth and fifth are those from which the versions of Rosa and Espada were printed.

In the Prologue to his First Part, Cieza de Leon announced the plan of his great work:—.

Part I of this very complete Chronicle of Peru was published at Seville in folio, by Martin Clement in 1553. A second edition, in duodecimo, was printed at Antwerp by Jean Steeltz in 1554;[12] and another independent edition, also at Antwerp and in the same year, by Martin Nucio. In 1555 an Italian translation, by Agostino di Gravalis, appeared at Rome, and was reprinted at Venice by Giordano Ziletti, in 1560. A third Italian version was published at Venice in 1566. An English translation by John Stevens came out in London in 1576. The latest Spanish edition forms part of the second volume of the Historiadores Primitivos de Indias, in the Biblioteca de Autores EspaÑoles (vol. 26), and is edited by Don Enrique de Vedia. It was published at Madrid in 1853. Lastly, the Hakluyt Society issued a translation in English in 1864.[13]

Part II remained in manuscript until 1873, when the Peruvian editor, and in 1880 the Spanish editor, printed their versions. An English translation is now, for the first time, issued by the Hakluyt Society.

Part III, and Books I and II of Part IV, are still in manuscript and inaccessible, but Don M. J. de la Espada knows that they exist and where, although he has not seen them.

Book III of Part IV long remained inedited. The manuscript is in the Royal Library at Madrid, and is in handwriting of the middle of the 16th century. It includes the war of Quito, and is divided into 239 chapters. A copy of this manuscript was included in the collection of Don Antonio de Uguina, on whose death it passed into the possession of M. Ternaux-Compans of Paris. Afterwards Mr. Rich obtained it, and sold it in 1849 to Mr. Lenox of New York for £600. At length this Book III of Part IV was printed and edited in 1877, with an interesting and very learned introduction by Don Marcos Jimenez de la Espada.[14]

Books IV and V of Part IV, and the two Commentaries, are not known to be in existence; but they were written, for Cieza de Leon refers to them in his Prologue as completed.

Mr. Prescott was mistaken in supposing that Cieza de Leon only completed the First Part.[15] He worked so diligently, and with such ability, and sound judgment, that he was able to finish the whole of the grand work he had projected. He is thus the greatest and most illustrious among the historians of Peru. So that his fate has been peculiarly hard. For more than three centuries his First Part only has been credited to him. His most valuable Second Part, though used and highly appreciated by Mr. Prescott, was attributed to an obscure lawyer who never was out of Spain in his life. One book of his Fourth Part has also at length been edited, but all the rest of his work still remains in manuscript. The accomplished Spanish editor, Don Marcos Jimenez de la Espada, was influenced in his labours and researches by a generous zeal to repair, in some degree, the great injustice which has been done to the memory of Cieza de Leon.

In my Introduction to the First Part, I gave some account of the author, all indeed that could be gathered from the part of his work then accessible; and I said that he was supposed to have been born in Seville.[16] This is an error. The Spanish editor has pointed out the authority for believing that the place of his birth was the town of Llerena in Estremadura.[17] In my former Introduction I suggested from the dates, and from the company in which we find him immediately on landing in America, that young Cieza de Leon, then a boy between 13 and 15, sailed from his native land in one of the ships which formed the expeditionary fleet of Don Pedro de Heredia, who had obtained a grant of the government of the region between the river Magdalena and the gulf of Darien. This fleet left Cadiz in 1532, and arrived at Cartagena in 1533. But the Spanish editor has shown that there are difficulties in the way of this conclusion, and Cieza himself is slightly contradictory in the matter of dates. He, however, mentions having seen the treasures of Atahualpa at Seville, when they arrived from Caxamarca,[18] which was in 1534. SeÑor de la Espada, therefore, concludes that our author did not sail for America until 1534, and that he embarked with the ships of Rodrigo Duran, which anchored at Cartagena in November 1534. At all events he was in San Sebastian de Buena Vista in 1537,[19] and was with the first Spaniards who opened a road from the north to the south sea. Thence he accompanied Pedro Vadillo in his expedition up the valley of the Cauca to Cali, and then joined Jorge de Robledo, who established towns in this Cauca valley, and conquered some of the cannibal tribes. It was at this time, in 1541, when at Cartago in the Cauca valley, that our author conceived a strong desire to write an account of the strange things that were to be seen in the new world.[20] “Oftentimes when the other soldiers were reposing, I was tiring myself by writing. Neither fatigue, nor the ruggedness of the country, nor the mountains and rivers, nor intolerable hunger and suffering, have ever been sufficient to obstruct my two duties, namely, writing, and following my flag and my captain without fault.” In 1547 he joined the President Gasca in his march to Cuzco, and was present at the final rout of Gonzalo Pizarro. After a residence at Cuzco he undertook a journey southwards to Charcas, under the special auspices of Gasca, and with the sole object of learning all that was worthy of notice. Returning to Lima he finished his First Part on September 8th, 1550. He says he was then thirty-two years of age, and had passed seventeen of them in the Indies.

The Second Part was also nearly completed before Cieza de Leon left Peru, because he mentions having shown most of it to two learned judges at Lima, Dr. Bravo de Saravia and the Licentiate Hernando de Santillan. The latter was himself the author of a valuable work on the government of the Yncas, which also long remained in manuscript. It was first printed in Madrid in 1879, having been edited by Don Marcos Jimenez de la Espada. From incidental notices in the Second Part, we learn how diligently young Cieza de Leon collected information respecting the history and government of the Yncas, after he had written his accurate yet picturesque description of the country in his First Part. He often asked the Indians what they knew of their condition before the Yncas became their lords.[21] He carefully examined the temple of Cacha, and inquired into the traditions concerning it, from the intelligent native governor of an adjacent village.[22] In 1550 he went to Cuzco with the object of collecting information, and it was arranged by Juan de Saavedra, the Corregidor of that city, that one of the surviving descendants of the great Ynca Huayna Ccapac, an intelligent and learned native named Cayu Tupac, should confer with him. At the very time when Cieza de Leon was diligently studying the history of the Yncas under the guidance of this Peruvian “Pundit”, the young Ynca Garcilasso de la Vega, then eleven years of age, was at school in the same old city of Cuzco, learning Latin under the good Canon Cuellar. The two historians must often have seen each other, the little half-caste boy playing in the streets with his schoolfellows, and the stately young Spanish soldier studying carefully with his noble Ynca friend. Cieza de Leon explains the plan of his Second Part, which was, first to review the system of government of the Yncas, and then to narrate the events of the reign of each sovereign. He weighs conflicting evidence, and gives the version which appears to him to be nearest the truth, sometimes also adding the grounds of his decision. He spared no pains to obtain the best and most authentic information; and his sympathy with the conquered people, and generous appreciation of their many good and noble qualities, give a special charm to his narrative.

Cieza de Leon is certainly one of the most important authorities on Ynca history and civilization, whether we consider his peculiar advantages in collecting information, or his character as a conscientious historian. His remarks respecting the Ynca roads and system of posts, on the use of the quipus, on the system of colonists, and on the ceremonial songs and recitations to preserve the memory of historical events, are of the first importance. He bears striking evidence of the historical faculty possessed by the learned men at the court of the Yncas. After saying that, on the death of a sovereign, the chroniclers related the events of his reign to his successor, he adds:—“They could well do this, for there were among them some men with good memories, sound judgments, and subtle genius, and full of reasoning power, as we can bear witness who have heard them even in these our days.”[23]

Students owe much to the labours of Don Marcos Jimenez de la Espada. He has not only edited the text of the Second Part of Cieza de Leon, and his War of Quito, but also the hitherto inedited narratives of Betanzos, Molina, Salcamayhua, Santillan, and an anonymous work, all of great importance with reference to the history and civilization of the Yncas. These additions to our knowledge are sufficient to show us how much there is to learn before anything approaching to a correct appreciation of this interesting subject can be attained. The future historian who will at last achieve this task, must be intimately acquainted with every part of the Yncarial empire, must be a thorough Quichua scholar, must have closely studied all early Spanish writers, and must possess the critical faculty to enable him to assign its proper weight to the varied evidence given by many different authorities. The present useful labour of editing and indexing will prepare the way for the future work. It is the accumulation, sorting, and preparation of the materials with which the noble edifice will some day be built.

The Index of the present volume is classified on the same principle as those in the volumes of Garcilasso de la Vega, Acosta, Molina, Salcamayhua, Avila, and Polo de Ondegardo. The student is thus able to see, without trouble, the Quichua words and the names of places and persons which are mentioned by each author. His studies will in this way be much facilitated, especially if he undertakes the task of weighing the respective value of facts and opinions given by different writers. Such an investigation is one essential step towards the comprehension of the history and civilization of the Yncas. A more important inquiry refers to the assignment of traditions, customs, beliefs, and words to the different races which were comprehended in the Yncarial empire. But this can only be attempted by students of the native languages. It is from Peru itself—from learned and painstaking Peruvian scholars—that we must look for future real progress in this most interesting field of research. Republican Peru has already produced many eminent writers who have devoted their talents to historical studies, and to the elucidation of the archÆology and philology of their native land. The names of Rivero, Paz Soldan, Palma, Zegarra, Barranca, Mujica, and others, at once occur to the mind. Peru, in her undeserved misfortunes, has shown that her sons can fight bravely for their beloved fatherland. In literature, many of her sons have shed lustre on their country’s history. In no christian land is there warmer family affection; in none is there truer and more cordial hospitality. Those who know Peru best, most deeply regret her misfortunes, and most heartily desire her future welfare.

NOTE
ON
THE ANCIENT YNCA DRAMA.

THE reference of Cieza de Leon to the songs and recitations at the court of the Yncas suggests the question of the existence among the ancient Peruvians of a drama, or system of representing historical and other events by means of dialogues. This, therefore, seems a suitable opportunity for examining what light is thrown on the question in the works which, in a translated form, have been issued by the Hakluyt Society; and for considering the most reasonable conclusion to be derived from the materials now within our reach.

At page 32 of the present volume, Cieza de Leon says that the most learned among the people were selected to make known historical events by songs and recitations, which were handed down from memory. This is the germ of dramatic representation, which might be expected to attain fuller development; and that it did so is clear from the evidence of other historians. Garcilasso de la Vega says:—“The Amautas, or philosophers, were not wanting in ability to compose comedies and tragedies, which were represented before their kings on solemn festivals. The subject matter of the tragedy always related to military deeds, triumphs, and victories, or to the grandeur of former kings and of other heroic men. The arguments of the comedies were on agriculture and familiar household subjects. All the plays were on decorous and important topics, the sentences being such as befitted the occasion. They understood the composition of long and short verses, with the right number of syllables in each. They did not use rhymes in the verses, but all were blank.”[24] The native author, Salcamayhua, also bears witness to the existence of an ancient drama, and even gives the Quichua names of four different kinds of plays. “In the festival they represented plays called aÑay sauca,[25] hayachuca,[26] llama-llama,[27] and haÑamsi.”[28] That the memory of the old dramatic lore was preserved, and handed down after the Spanish conquest, is proved by the sentence pronounced on the rebels at Cuzco in 1781, by the Judge Areche. It prohibited “the representation of dramas, as well as all other festivals which the Indians celebrated in memory of their Yncas.”[29] Dr. Justiniani, a descendant of the Yncas, who was eighty-five when I knew him, in 1853, told me that he could remember having seen, when a very little boy, a Quichua tragedy acted by Indians in the town of Tinta.[30]

The Spanish priests took advantage of this aptitude of the Indians for dramatic representation, and composed religious plays in the Quichua language, in imitation of the Autos Sacramentales then in vogue. Garcilasso says,—“The Jesuits composed comedies for the Indians to act, because they knew that this was the custom in the time of the Yncas.” He mentions three such plays,[31] and adds, “the Indian lads repeated the dialogues with so much grace, feeling, and correct action that they gave universal satisfaction and pleasure; and with so much plaintive softness in the songs, that many Spaniards shed tears of joy at seeing their ability and skill. From that time the Spaniards disabused themselves of the opinion that the Indians were dull, barbarous, and stupid.”

Several of these religious plays were written by the Spanish priests in the Quichua language, for the people to perform at great festivals, and they of course bear unmistakeable evidence of their Spanish origin. I possess two of these plays. One is by Dr. Lunarejo, a native of Cuzco, and a celebrated Quichua scholar, who flourished in the eighteenth century. It is entitled Comedia famosa del pobre mas rico, and is on the plan of the “Autos” of Lope de Vega and Calderon. The other is anonymous and appears to be of earlier date. The title is Usca Paucar, Auto Sacramental el Patrocinio de Maria.

We thus have evidence that the Yncas cultivated the drama in ancient times; that some of the plays were handed down and were acted as late as 1781; and that the Spanish priests, finding that the Peruvians possessed traditional aptitude for dramatic performances, turned this talent to account in the inculcation of religious dogma. It might, therefore, naturally be expected that one or more of the ancient Ynca plays, as distinguished from the religious “Autos” of Spanish times, would have been preserved. It has long been known that at least one such drama does exist, under the title of Ollantay, and Quichua scholars concur in the belief that it is really of ancient origin, and that it dates from pre-Spanish times.

The drama of Ollantay, as it now exists, was arranged for representation, divided into scenes, and supplied with stage directions in Spanish times; but competent Quichua students believe that most of the dialogues, speeches, and songs date from a period before the conquest; and that consequently it is an Ynca drama. The manuscript copies are probably numerous, some carelessly made by ignorant scribes, and containing modern words in substitution of what may have been illegible in the originals. But others are older and more correct versions, and these alone should be referred to in discussing the question of the date of this composition. A really critical text has not, however, been hitherto established, from which all modern interpolations have been excluded, and the readings in the most authentic and oldest versions alone retained.

The drama was first brought to notice by Don Manuel Palacios, in the Museo Erudito, a periodical published at Cuzco in 1837. The learned Peruvian mineralogist and antiquary, Don Mariano Eduardo de Rivero,[32] in his work entitled Antiguedades Peruanas, gave two specimens from it, in Quichua and Spanish. SeÑor Rivero says that copies of Ollantay, written in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, are preserved in private libraries at Cuzco.[33] The whole text was first printed by Dr. von Tschudi at the end of his Quichua Grammar, but without a translation, in 1853.[34] The manuscript used by the learned German was copied from one preserved in the Dominican monastery at Cuzco by one of the monks, between 1840 and 1845, for the artist Ruggendas of Munich, who gave it to Dr. von Tschudi, the original being much damaged and in parts illegible.

In April 1853 I had the opportunity of examining and transcribing a version of Ollantay, which, I was informed, contained the purest text. It belonged to Dr. Don Pablo Justiniani, the aged priest of the village of Laris, in the heart of the eastern Andes.[35] His father, Dr. Justo Pastor Justiniani, had copied it from the original manuscript belonging to Dr. Don Antonio Valdez, the priest of Sicuani in 1780, and the friend of the unfortunate Ynca Tupac Amaru. Dr. Valdez died in the year 1816. He is said to have been the first to reduce the drama to writing, and to arrange it for the stage,[36] but this is clearly an error, as there is a manuscript of 1730, and others dating from the previous century, according to Rivero. The manuscript of Valdez is, however, one of great value, as it preserves all the original forms, and the fame of the owner as a Quichua scholar is some guarantee for its accuracy. In 1853 it was in the possession of Don Narciso Cuentas of Tinta, the nephew and heir of Dr. Valdez. Another copy taken from the Valdez manuscript, was in possession of Dr. Rosas, the priest of Chinchero near Cuzco. I carefully collated the Justiniani and Rosas copies. In the year 1871 I published the text of my copy of the Justiniani version, with an attempt at a literal English translation.[37] But in three or four passages I adopted the reading of Von Tschudi’s version, and in all I was wrong. I should, as I have since convinced myself, have adhered closely to the Justiniani text. In this text, however, there are several additions inserted by a later hand when the drama was arranged for the stage. These I placed in brackets.

In 1873 the Peruvian scholar, Dr. Don Manuel Gonzalez de la Rosa, informed me that he had in his possession the manuscripts of Dr. Justo Sahuaraura Ynca, Archdeacon of Cuzco, and a descendant of Paullu, the younger son of the great Ynca Huayna Ccapac. Among them is a version of the drama of Ollantay, which Dr. de la Rosa considers to be authentic and very accurate. This text has not hitherto been published.

Don JosÉ S. Barranca, in 1868, published an excellent Spanish translation, chiefly from the text of Von Tschudi, now called the Dominican text. It is preceded by an interesting introduction, and the author announced that he was preparing for the press a carefully edited Quichuan text, but I am not aware that this has yet seen the light.[38] In 1876 the Peruvian poet, Don Constantino Carrasco, published, in Lima, a version of the drama of Ollantay in verse, paraphrased from the translation of Barranca. It is preceded by a critical introduction from the pen of the accomplished Peruvian writer, Don Ricardo Palma, who expressed an opinion that the drama was composed after the Spanish conquest.

In 1874 the enthusiastic Peruvian student of the language of the Yncas, Dr. JosÉ Fernandez Nodal, printed the Quichua text with a Spanish translation in parallel columns. This version has several different readings.[39]

In 1875 Dr. von Tschudi published a second text of Ollantay, at Vienna, with a translation. His new version, like the first, is mainly from the Dominican text, but partly from another manuscript which bears the date “La Paz, June 18th, 1735”.[40] This important date proves that Dr. Valdez was not the author, as supposed by the editor of the Museo Erudito, but merely the possessor of one of the best manuscripts.[41]

Don Gavino Pacheco Zegarra published the text of Ollantay at Paris, in 1878; his version being taken from a manuscript found among the books of his great-uncle, Don Pedro Zegarra. He added a free translation, and numerous valuable notes. The work of Zegarra is by far the most important that has appeared on this subject; for the accomplished Peruvian has the great advantage of knowing Quichua from his earliest childhood. To this advantage, not possessed by any previous writer, he unites extensive learning, literary ability, and very considerable critical sagacity. He is fully convinced of the antiquity of the drama.[42]

In his Races Aryennes, Don Vicente Fidel Lopez refers to the drama of Ollantay, and discusses the meaning of the word. The editors and critics to whom I have referred, all being students of the Quichua language, have come to the conclusion that Ollantay is an ancient Ynca drama. Some of them, including myself, arrived at this conclusion after long study and much hesitation.[43] The following is the argument of the drama. Ollantay, General of Anti-Suyu, was deeply enamoured of the princess Cusi-Ccoyllur, the chief beauty of the court of the Ynca Pachacutec. In vain the High Priest, Uillac-Umu, endeavoured to dissuade him, and even performed a miracle to divert him from his illegal love. Pachacutec, the Ynca, rejected the suitor for his daughter’s hand, and Ollantay rose in rebellion, occupying the great fortress, consisting of colossal ruins, which has ever since been called Ollantay-tampu. Meanwhile, Cusi Ccoyllur gave birth to a child which was named Yma Sumac (“how beautiful”). For this transgression the princess was immured in a dungeon in the Aclla Huasi, or convent of Sacred Virgins, for ten years. Pachacutec died, and the sceptre passed to his son Ynca Yupanqui. Ollantay was at length conquered by a stratagem. Concealing his army in a neighbouring ravine, the general Rumi-Ñaui came to the stronghold of the rebels, and appeared before Ollantay covered with blood. He declared that he had been cruelly treated by the Ynca, and that he desired to join the insurrection. Encouraging the insurgents to celebrate a festival with drunken orgies, he admitted his own troops and captured the whole party, including Ollantay. Next there is a touching dialogue between Yma Sumac and one of the virgins, who allows her to visit her mother in the dungeon. Finally the great rebel is pardoned by the magnanimous Ynca, and the unfortunate princess is restored to the arms of her lover. One of the characters, a facetious servant lad, named Piqui Chaqui, supplies the comic vein which runs through the piece.

There are ample proofs of the antiquity of the tradition, and that the name of Ollantay was known in the days of the Yncas, and was applied to the famous ruins near Cuzco. Father Cristobal de Molina, a very high authority, writing in 1580, mentions Ollantay-tampu in connection with a curious sacrificial ceremony.[44] Salcamayhua, a writer of the seventeenth century, also mentions Ollantay.[45] The name, therefore, was well known before the Spanish conquest.[46] The name of Rumi-Ñaui, which means “stone-eye”, as that of the general who, by the stratagem of mutilating his face, deceived Ollantay, is not uncommon in Ynca history. A general of Atahualpa had the same name. It is a curious fact, as corroborative of this part of the story, that in 1837 an Indian presented to Don Antonio Maria Alvarez, then Prefect of Cuzco, an ancient earthen drinking vessel, moulded into the shape of a man’s head and bust. He said that it had been handed down in his family for generations, as the likeness of Rumi-Ñaui. The person represented must have been a general, from the masccapaycha or ornament on the forehead, and wounds are cut on the face in accordance with the argument of the drama.

But the chief reasons for assigning a date before the Spanish conquest to the speeches and dialogues of Ollantay, have reference to the internal evidence. Throughout the piece there is not the remotest allusion to Christianity, an impossible phenomenon if the drama had been written in Spanish times, like the comedy of Dr. Lunarejo and the Usca-paucar. It contains songs of indubitable antiquity, and in use among the purest Quichua people. The language is archaic; there are many words which have long disappeared from the spoken Quichua, and are now only found in the earliest vocabularies. The grammatical forms, such as cca instead of pa for the genitive, are ancient. The state of society represented in the drama is entirely Pagan, without a sign of Spanish contact. The metre is octo-syllabic, like that of the Ynca song preserved by Blas Valera, and is the same as the most ancient verses in the collection of Dr. Justiniani. In the early and pure copies there is not an allusion to anything, or any animal, introduced by Europeans. All arguments must of course be based on the most authentic text, and not on later copies into which many errors have crept, such as the substitution of words like misi (a cat), and asna (a donkey), corrected in another copy to llama, for the original word, in both cases, atoc (a fox).

In the final decision of a question of this kind, it is always an advantage to have an able antagonist who will take the trouble to state all that can be said against the generally received opinion. In the present case the “Devil’s Advocate” is no less a person than General Don BartolomÉ MitrÉ, the ex-President of the Argentine Republic. General MitrÉ maintains that the drama of Ollantay is entirely of Spanish origin, and that it was written in modern times.[47] His opinion is not to be despised; for he is evidently a man of extensive reading, and is possessed of critical insight of a high order. But his knowledge of the Quichua language and of the Spanish authors who wrote in the first century after the conquest of Peru is limited, as will presently appear. Nevertheless, the accomplished general and statesman would no doubt have proved his case if it had been possible. The facts, however, are too numerous, and too closely arrayed against him. His attack was well planned and gallantly delivered, but it has utterly failed.[48]

The General’s first assault is made upon the evidence of the existence of dramatic compositions among the Yncas. Garcilasso de la Vega is declared to be the sole authority, and he is unceremoniously set aside as unworthy of credit. Cieza de Leon and Acosta are then triumphantly referred to as being absolutely silent on the subject. But General MitrÉ had evidently only read the first part of Cieza de Leon, and was still ignorant of the contents of the present volume. He was equally ignorant of the work of Salcamayhua, where the names of four different kinds of dramatic compositions are given. There is, quite independently of the positive statement of Garcilasso, ample evidence of the existence of a drama of some kind in the time of the Yncas.

His next point is that Ollantay is throughout, in general form and minute details, a Christian and cavalieresque play de capa y espada, such as those of Lope de Vega and Calderon. Mr. Ticknor says that comedias de capa y espada excluded those dramas in which royal personages appear; their main and moving principle is gallantry; the story is almost always involved and intriguing; and accompanied with an underplot and parody on the characters and adventures of the principal parties, formed out of those of the servants and other inferior personages.[49] Ollantay is a historical play including royal personages; the main and moving principle is not gallantry of the capa y espada type, the story is simple and not intriguing, and it is not accompanied with an underplot. So that the Quichua drama is not only unlike a Spanish comedia de capa y espada, but it would be difficult to find two classes of compositions, both being dramatic, which are more completely distinct from each other.

Next, General MitrÉ objects that the sentiments prevailing in Ollantay are pride of caste, conjugal fidelity, military spirit, filial love, humanity to the vanquished, horror of polygamy, royal magnanimity, which are proper to European civilisation, but opposed to all that is known of Ynca social life. Yet pride of caste is described, by nearly all writers on the subject, as a noteworthy characteristic of the Ynca family. There are many touching stories told of conjugal fidelity and filial love among the Peruvians by writers contemporaneous with the conquest; and I am tempted to relate one of these stories at the end of the present critical notice. The military spirit was sedulously cultivated by the Yncas, who were always engaged in new conquests. The exercise of magnanimity and of humanity to the conquered was constantly inculcated, and was a part of the established policy of the Yncas, as we are told by nearly all the early writers. Polygamy is nowhere spoken of with horror in Ollantay. All the sentiments enumerated by General MitrÉ as peculiar to European civilisation, are those which went towards the formation of the best part of the Ynca character, and which would naturally be met with in a Quichua drama.

The next objection is that rebellion is approved in the drama of Ollantay, and that such countenance would be impossible at a despotic court like that of the Yncas. The remark applies equally to the court of Spain. It may be admitted that the encouragement of rebellion as a principle would not be tolerated unless it eventually redounded to the credit of the sovereign. Successful rebellion was not unknown in Ynca history, and Yupanqui Pachacutec himself, the sovereign of the play, deposed his brother Urco, according to Cieza de Leon. That story would not be heard with displeasure. Nor would that of Ollantay, where the rebel is subdued, and where the magnanimity of the sovereign is celebrated.

The whole of the arguments of the General, based on internal evidence afforded by words and passages in the play, may be set aside, because none of the words upon which he relies as evidence of Spanish origin are to be found in the true version. The true version must be considered as that which excludes all words and passages which are not common to all the older manuscripts. On this principle all the words relied upon by the General are corrupt readings which have crept in through the carelessness of copiers.[50]

General MitrÉ objects that the High Priest alludes to the broken thread of destiny, which is a strictly Greek image. He misunderstands the passage. The High Priest compares the consequence of the act, which will bring destruction on Ollantay, not with the thread of destiny entangled and severed, but with the wool and frame of a native weaving machine overturned and broken, a natural and indigenous figure suggested by things often before the speaker’s own eyes. The remainder of the General’s attack is occupied in efforts to find traces of old world ideas in Ollantay, most of his analogies being very far-fetched. There is a yaravi or song, describing the beauty of the heroine, which the General compares with the Song of Solomon. The only resemblance is that both describe personal beauty by comparisons with the beauties of nature, and this is common to nearly all poetry. But General MitrÉ, by using Zegarra’s somewhat free translation, attributes figures to the song which it does not contain, such as a “countenance white and transparent as alabaster, bosoms as white as pieces of ice, cheeks like roses fallen on snow, eyebrows like bows sending forth burning and slaughter-dealing arrows, fingers like bolls of opening cotton.” There is nothing of all this in the authentic text. In the real song all the similes are strictly and essentially Quichuan. Her forehead is compared to Quilla, the moon; her eyes, not to arrows, but to two suns; her eyebrows to rainbows, the insignia of the Yncas. Her tresses are black, mixed with gold, just as the plaited hair of an Ynca princess is represented in an ancient picture at Cuzco. The bloom of her cheek is compared with the achancaray, a red flower peculiar to Peru; her bosoms, not to snow, but to the utcu swelling out of the bolls, a simile which is also essentially Peruvian. These figures show that the yaravi could not possibly have been composed anywhere but in the land where the achancaray and the utcu flourish within sight of the snows of the Andes. General MitrÉ objects to a copper-coloured beauty being praised for her fairness, and to her skin being compared with snow. The Ynca princesses, as we know from some ancient pictures and descriptions, were naturally much fairer than the common people, and this striking difference would as naturally lead to fairness of skin being prized, celebrated, exaggerated, and, by a poetical licence, compared with the fairest thing in the Peruvian landscape.

Still referring to an erroneous reading, General MitrÉ objects that the Ynca says:—“Take this ring in thy hand, that thou mayest never forget that it is thy duty to show clemency to all. Rise, thou art a hero,”—which, he suggests, must be an idea taken from arming knights in the middle ages. Possibly; but the Ynca never makes such a speech in the authentic text[51] of Ollantay. He says:—“Receive this head dress, that thou mayest command my army, and this arrow, that I destine for you.” The presentation of a head-dress is a peculiarly Yncarial ceremony, and this passage is one among many which furnish strong internal proofs of the antiquity of the drama.

The critic then proceeds to refer to three more alleged anachronisms. The deceased Ynca is said to be spoken of as buried, when Yncas were always embalmed, and the bodies preserved in the temple; black is mentioned as the colour for mourning, when the Yncas used grey; and the city of Cuzco is said to have elected a new Ynca, though the Peruvian monarchy was hereditary. The replies are that the word pampasacta from pampani, to bury, is used, in the oldest songs, for interments of every kind; that the word for mourning, in the authentic version, is not yana (black), but ccica (grey); and that the great men of Cuzco, in the cases of this very Ynca Yupanqui (according to Cieza de Leon) and others, did select the sovereign under special circumstances.

The next objection is that the Ynca, after pardoning Ollantay, appointed him to be his successor and invested him with the fringe; which, it is contended, is historically false, and impossible in ancient Peru. But the Ynca merely invested Ollantay with the insignia of his rank as a great chief (the yellow fringe, not the crimson fringe peculiar to the sovereign), and appointed him to rule at Cuzco during the sovereign’s absence, a very different thing. Such appointments were of constant occurrence, and are recorded over and over again by Cieza de Leon.

Thus General MitrÉ fails to establish the existence of a single allusion to things of European origin in the drama of Ollantay.

Treating of the one comic character in the piece, the servant of Ollantay, and referring to his frequent use of puns and expressions with double meanings, the General contends that his wit is Andalusian, and that it is contrary to the genius of the Quichua language. In reality, the speeches of this servant, Piqui Chaqui, are so thoroughly native and of the soil, his allusions and double meanings are so hidden, that no Spaniard—no one but a native—could have written or even conceived them. In one of the Quichua plays, written by Spanish priests, in my possession, there is a “gracioso” named Quespillo, whose fun is broad and without a sign of double entendre. If Quespillo is a Spanish creation, Piqui-chaqui is as certainly of native conception. This is one strong proof that Ollantay, differing so completely in all respects from the Quichua religious dramas prepared by Spanish priests, is of pure native origin.

Next, General MitrÉ compares a simple speech of Urco-huaranca, the general of Ollantay, with an enumeration of forces in Homer; a reference to his services, made by Ollantay, to some speech in the Spanish drama of the Cid Campeador; and the election of Ollantay by his army, to an election by the PrÆtorian guard described by Tacitus. These allusions are too far-fetched and vague to need special replies; but they require wonderful erudition on the part of General MitrÉ’s imaginary Spanish author. Rumi-Ñaui, in order to make Ollantay think that he had been ill-treated by the Ynca, mutilated his face. Zopyrus, in the story told by Herodotus, for a similar purpose, cut off his nose and ears, which Rumi-Ñaui did not do. Nevertheless, General MitrÉ jumps at the conclusion that the idea must have been copied from Herodotus. It will be remembered that the story of the mutilation of Rumi-Ñaui is preserved on an ancient piece of Ynca pottery.

General MitrÉ then quotes a speech of Ollantay, when he receives the Ynca’s pardon, from my book, a text which he had all along repudiated, in order to use the Dominican text as better suited to his purpose. His criticism on this speech is sound, but the lines I inserted were evidently interpolated by the person who arranged the drama for acting. I had, consequently, placed them in brackets as doubtful, and noted their omission by Von Tschudi and Barranca, a fact which the General does not mention. The passage is not authentic, and would be omitted in a properly revised version. It is in fact omitted by Zegarra. But this use, by General MitrÉ, first of one text and then of another, as it happens to suit his purpose, is not conducive to the proper object of criticism, namely, the discovery of truth. It shows also that his critical essay is premature, and that it should not have been attempted until all the versions had been critically examined and collated, and an authoritative text established.

The octo-syllabic metre in which the drama is written was also used by Spanish dramatists, and, consequently, according to General MitrÉ, the drama of Ollantay was written by a Spaniard. But it is also a native Peruvian metre. The ancient song given by Garcilasso de la Vega, though printed in lines of four syllables, is really octo-syllabic. These eight-syllable lines are composed with great facility in many languages, and are natural to the Quichua, most of the ancient songs in the collection of Dr. Justiniani being octo-syllabic. Consequently, though also used in Spanish literature, they do not therefore indicate a Spanish origin.

The greater part of General MitrÉ’s argument amounts to little more than this. There is a river in Macedon, and there is a river in Monmouth, therefore Macedon and Monmouth are the same place. It is a very old argument, but it has never been looked upon as conclusive. The General’s theory requires an unknown Spanish author living in the eighteenth century, and writing in the Quichua language, of portentous erudition, who borrowed his ideas from the Pentateuch, the Song of Solomon, Homer, Tacitus, Herodotus, Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Mrs. Ratcliffe, and the ballads of the Cid; and who yet excluded the most distant allusion to Christianity or to anything Spanish. He could not have been a priest, for we possess Quichua plays composed by Spanish priests, and they are entirely and radically different from Ollantay, containing, as was inevitable, constant allusions to Christianity, and none to the classic authors of antiquity. Yet the imaginary author must have known Quichua perfectly, in its earliest and most archaic form, and have been versed in all the plays upon words and double meanings used by initiated natives. It may safely be affirmed that no such prodigy ever existed in the eighteenth century, and, consequently, the General’s theory falls to pieces like a house of cards.

At the same time, General MitrÉ has done good service to literature by the publication of this elaborate criticism. Every argument that the ingenuity of an accomplished scholar could bring forward against the authenticity of Ollantay has been adduced. Quichua students now know all that can possibly be said against the antiquity of the play, and they know that what is not based on incorrect readings, is far-fetched and fanciful. The former considerations which led them to the conclusion that most of the dialogues and songs dated from the time of the Yncas, remain in full force, unshaken by anything General MitrÉ has written. The new points he has raised, prove to be either based on corrupt readings, or to be of no validity in themselves.

It is gratifying to find that the rich and interesting language of the Yncas continues to be studied by ardent young Peruvian scholars. Among them is Dr. Martin Antonio Mujica, a native of Huancavelica, who is making Quichua a serious study, and has suggested some changes in the accepted orthography, based on sound principles.[52] There is much yet to learn in this important branch of investigation, and much useful work to be done. A really critical text of Ollantay is a desideratum. There are many ancient Quichua songs, possibly other dramas, in private libraries. These should be diligently sought out, edited, and printed, with translations. A dictionary should be undertaken, with references to all the words which occur in the writings of ancient authors. There is a wide field and a noble one, for young students in the land of the Yncas, which is well deserving of careful, diligent, and enthusiastic cultivation. Such discouraging criticisms as that of General MitrÉ should have no depressing effect. They should rather arouse the student to fresh efforts, both to secure the purity of his texts, and to illustrate their meaning by the acquisition of wider knowledge, and the cultivation of critical and accurate habits of thought.

Meanwhile, the conclusion that the drama of Ollantay is of Ynca origin, having withstood all the assaults of General MitrÉ’s criticism, remains more firmly established, and on securer ground than before. The unsuccessful attack is an additional source of strength.

A PERUVIAN LOVE STORY.

THE assertion of General MitrÉ that conjugal devotion was not among the virtues of the ancient Peruvians, induces me to relate a story which is told by Miguel Cavello Balboa.[53] The events it records took place during the war between Huascar and Atahualpa. It, therefore, illustrates the closing chapters of the present volume.[54]

On the death of the great Ynca Huayna Ccapac in the province of Quito, he was succeeded by his legitimate son Huascar at Cuzco; while the son who was with him, named Atahualpa, remained at the head of an army at Quito. But the body of the deceased sovereign was sent to Cuzco, accompanied by the widowed queen, Mama Rahua Ocllo, and her daughter the Princess Chuqui Uzpay, and by four venerable councillors who were executors of Huayna Ccapac. On approaching Cuzco these venerable men were arrested, ordered to explain why Atahualpa had remained behind, and, their defence not being satisfactory, they were put to death. The principal executor, who thus suffered, was named Auqui Tupac Yupanqui.

The Queen, Mama Rahua Ocllo, was much shocked at this cruelty on the part of her son Huascar. After the funeral ceremonies, the new sovereign desired to marry his sister Chuqui Uzpay, and, after much hesitation, the Queen Mother reluctantly gave her consent.

Young Quilaco Yupanqui, a son of the murdered executor, Auqui Tupac Yupanqui, was sent by Atahualpa as an envoy to his brother Huascar. On reaching the valley of Xaquixaguana, Quilaco received a secret message from the Queen Mother, who loved him dearly, for he was a foster-brother of her child, the young queen Chuqui Uzpay. The Queen Mother ordered a procession of damsels to come out and meet the envoy; among whom there was one more beautiful than all the rest, named Curi-coyllur.

At the coronation of Huascar, the chief of the valley of Yca arrived from the coast with a lovely daughter named Chumbillaya. She inspired the Ynca with a violent passion, and he gave her the name of Curi-coyllur, the “golden star.” She bore him a daughter and died soon afterwards. His sister Corvaticlla, a beloved friend of Curi-coyllur, brought up the child with great care in a house near Cuzco, and her beauty was so marvellous that she inherited her mother’s name of Curi-coyllur.

Curi-coyllur was fifteen when the girls assembled to meet the young envoy from Quito at Siquillabamba. Quilaco fell in love with her. He went on to Cuzco, and, finding that the Ynca Huascar had gone to Calca in the vale of Vilcamayu, he hurried thither, and laid the presents from the Ynca’s brother Atahualpa at his feet. Huascar spurned both envoy and presents, and dismissed Quilaco with disdain. Quilaco returned to Cuzco, and told the queens what had befallen him at Calca. The guardian of Curi-coyllur, on hearing of his love, allowed him to visit the young girl. A few days afterwards Huascar sent him back with a message to Atahualpa, to the effect that he would be closely followed by an army to enforce obedience.

One day, at early dawn, Curi-coyllur was praying for the return of her lover. When a labourer appeared with his taclla (plough) on his shoulder, she mistook it for the chuqui (lance) of Quilaco. At last a troop of strangers appeared on the hill, taking the way to Xaquixaguana. She was shedding tears, when her lover came out of a field of maize close by, and threw himself at her feet. Quilaco told her and her aunt all that had happened at Cuzco, and asked Corvaticlla for the hand of her niece. It was promised when the times had become more quiet, and Quilaco continued his journey to Quito.

The great war then broke out between the two brothers, Huascar and Atahualpa. Quilaco had promised to return to Curi-coyllur in three years, and four had elapsed. Huascar was on the point of marrying her to one of his captains. She cut her hair, put on the dress of one of her servants, painted her face according to the usage of those who go to war, and mixed herself amongst the camp followers of the army of Huascar. The Ynca’s general, named Huanca Auqui, had retreated to the valley of Xauxa, where he met the reinforcements from Cuzco, and was superseded by Mayta Yupanqui. The army of Atahualpa, under the command of Quizquiz, advanced to Tarma, and the hostile forces met between Tarma and Xauxa. The battle lasted all day, but eventually the army of Huascar was defeated with great slaughter. Quilaco was wounded by an arrow, and fell on a heap of dead, while his men were too much occupied in chasing the fugitives to notice his fall.

Quilaco would have perished miserably from loss of blood; but he saw a lad searching among the bodies, and cried for help. The boy ran to him, drew out the arrow, and staunched the wound. He carried the wounded man to the banks of a stream, and washed the dirt off his face and body. Quilaco asked the motive of such kindness in a follower of Huascar.[55] “Brother,” said the lad, “I am a native of this place; my name is Titu; I seek no advantage.” He collected sticks, lighted a fire to warm the wounded chief; and so they passed the night. Next day the boy conveyed Quilaco to a neighbouring hut until he should be cured. A search was made for him by order of Quizquiz, and his disappearance caused profound sadness in the host of Atahualpa.

For many months Quilaco was unable to rise from his bed, and in the interval great events happened. Huascar was dethroned, his family was massacred at Cuzco, the usurper advanced to Caxamarca, Pizarro arrived on the coast with his Spaniards, and Atahualpa was made prisoner by them. Titu used to leave the hut, and collect news from passers-by on the great road. One day he told Quilaco that the power of Atahualpa and his generals had departed, and that strange men from the sea were now the rulers of the country. Titu spoke of the noble bearing and of the justice of the Viracochas, as he called the Spaniards, looking upon them as messengers from God. He entreated and at last persuaded the chief, who was now able to walk, to appear before the Spanish leader, who had arrived in the valley. It was the famous Hernando de Soto. They went together, and Titu, with the aid of an interpreter, related his history to the proud but noble-minded conqueror. Quilaco now for the first time discovered that Titu was his long-lost love, his Curi-coyllur, whom he had never hoped to see again.

They were baptized under the names of Hernando Yupanqui and Leonora Curi-coyllur, and married in conformity with the laws of the Church. But the young chief only survived for two years. The widow afterwards lived with Hernando de Soto, and bore him several children—Leonora de Soto, who married Fernando Carrillo, notary to his Majesty, and lived at Cuzco; Juana de Soto; Pedro de Soto; and others.

I know not whether the story of Quilaco and Curi-coyllur was ever dramatised like that of Ollantay. But we need not doubt that the “brilliant erudition”[56] of General MitrÉ would, if the play were brought to light, soon announce to us that it was a “comedia de capa y espada”, with all the ideas and incidents borrowed from Homer, Herodotus, Tacitus, the Pentateuch, the Song of Solomon, Shakespeare, Lope de Vega, Mrs. Ratcliffe, and the Cid Campeador. Too much erudition is surely a dangerous thing.

The other story told by Balboa, of the love of Elfquen Pisan, Chief of Lambayeque, for the beautiful Chestan Xecfuin, is equally romantic, equally of native origin, and has as little to do with the old world classics as Ollantay. Among these people there was pride of caste, magnanimity towards the vanquished, a martial spirit, filial love, and conjugal devotion; and these sentiments found natural expression in their literature. Cieza de Leon, in the following pages, bears ample testimony to Ynca civilisation.

WHICH TREATS OF THE LORDSHIP OF THE INCAS YUPANQUIS, AND
OF THEIR GREAT DEEDS AND GOVERNMENT.
WRITTEN BY
PEDRO DE CIEZA DE LEON.

SECOND PART
OF THE
C H R O N I C L E O F P E R U