“In a sense, New World conquest was about men seeking a way around one of life’s basic rules – that human beings have to work for a living, just like the rest of the animal world. In Peru, as elsewhere in the Americas, Spaniards were not looking for fertile land that they could farm, they were looking for the cessation of their own need to perform manual labor. To do so, they needed to find large enough groups of people they could force to carry out all the laborious tasks necessary to provide them with the essentials of life: food, shelter, clothing, and, ideally, liquid wealth. Conquest, then, had little to do with adventure, but rather had everything to do with groups of men willing to do just about anything in order to avoid working for a living. Stripped down to its barest bones, the conquest of Peru was all about finding a comfortable retirement.”
- Kim MacQuarrie, The Last Days of the Incas
Kim MacQuarrie’s The Last Days of the Incas – covering Francisco Pizzaro’s 16th century conquest of Peru – is an outstanding example of narrative nonfiction. Before starting this, I knew only the basics about this fatal clash of peoples, pitting a small group of Spaniards on one side, against a large group of indigenous South Americans on the other. Nevertheless, MacQuarrie’s accessible style made the learning curve very gentle indeed. The major players are clearly defined, it is incredibly easy to follow the flow of events (aided by a timeline), and the novelistic details (sometimes a bit too novelistic) shortened the distance to the past, making this long-ago tragedy feel close and relevant.
MacQuarrie structures The Last Days of the Incas so that it has two separate storylines, taking place in two different eras.
The first storyline – set in the 20th century – involves modern explorers rediscovering great Incan cities that had been reclaimed by the jungle. These ruins, known only to local inhabitants, included Machu Picchu, one of the most iconic archaeological sites on earth, and Vilcabamba, the capital of the last remnants of the Incan empire. The sections devoted to finding, studying, and contextualizing these landmarks serve as bookends, both starting and ending the book.
In between is a long middle section covering MacQuarrie’s main focus, the collision of two great empires.
As MacQuarrie explains, the Spaniards who arrived in Peru – initially in strikingly small numbers – were not exactly the cream of the crop. They were impoverished, oft-illiterate, and title-less men with nothing to lose and everything to gain, which made them – in the end – exceedingly dangerous. Not professional soldiers, they were instead a cross-section of working-class Spanish society. They were also not employed or funded by the king, but were instead a new type of aggressive capitalist, forming joint companies with the lone motive of exploitation.
Facing these ruthlessly ambitious strivers were the Incas, a powerful empire in their own right. The Incans were a small ethnic group who came into the Andes region in the 12th century. Over time, they expanded their control, eventually coming to rule over 10 million people. At its apogee, the Incan Empire encompassed present-day Peru, as well as parts of Ecuador, Bolivia, Argentina, Chile, and Columbia.
The scale and accomplishments of the Incas were fantastic. They had thousands of miles of roads, monumentally-scaled architecture, and a bureaucratic system that harnessed the labor of untold thousands. Like all empires, this one was marked by a measure of coercion and brutality. The Incan rulers – an elite of around 100,000 – imposed taxes on its subjects in the form of a labor obligation. Unlike the vanguard of the Spanish Empire, however, the Incan leadership had a reciprocal obligation to its people, ensuring access to the basic necessities of life. Francisco Pizzaro, his brothers Juan, Gonzalo, and Hernando, and other Spanish conquistadors felt no such responsibility, and treated most humans as a juicer treats an orange.
The riddle of Spain in Peru has always been the question of how the advanced and numerically superior Incan Empire was toppled by just a handful of men. MacQuarrie presents many potential solutions, and all of them – taken together – probably forms the answer. For one, the Spaniards had certain technological advantages, including armor, firearms, and horses. Though MacQuarrie plays up this aspect, I am not entirely convinced that it represented the major role. Steel and horses are great, but it does not explain how 167 men defeated Emperor Atahualpa and 80,000 warriors at Cajamarca.
Perhaps more importantly, Francisco Pizzaro arrived in Peru around the time of an Incan civil war, following the death of Emperor Huyana Capac. Instead of meeting a strongly unified foe, the Incas were divided into competing factions, each supporting a different son of the dead emperor.
Beyond this was the fact that the Spaniards – despite their own self-serving accounts – had a lot of help. As already mentioned, empires rely on strong-arm tactics. Those tactics can be alienating. In defeating the Incas, Spain relied on the use of indigenous auxiliaries who were willing to make common cause with the invaders. Thus, the lopsided odds proudly touted in Spanish sources were often not quite as long as they were made out to be.
MacQuarrie’s handling of this material is excellent. He not only informs but entertains. It is no exaggeration to say that at times, I forgot I was reading about things that have been in the historical record for around 500 years. I was not only engrossed, but invested, and kept hoping that the outcome might change. It is a testament to MacQuarrie’s literary verve that I kept rooting for the Pizzaro brothers to get what they had coming (they did), and for the onetime puppet leader Manco Inca to succeed in his bold rebellion (he did not).
It must be noted, however, that in achieving some of its flair, The Last Days of the Incas utilizes more than a bit of poetic license. MacQuarrie is not a professional historian, and does not hesitate to speculate or dramatize events. There are a lot of sentences that include a variation of the phrase “no doubt” and “undoubtedly,” qualifiers that MacQuarrie uses when advancing hypotheses that have no foundation in documentary sources. This makes for a better tale, because it allows MacQuarrie to imbue certain figures – especially among the Inca – with the humanity that they have been otherwise denied. At the same time, for those who value absolute, just-the-facts fidelity, this might be problematic (though I would argue that just-the-facts fidelity is an impossible standard, as even contemporary written sources have numerous flaws).
For me, the bigger problem – though still minor – is in MacQuarrie’s decision to sandwich the central chronicle of Spaniards-versus-Incans between accounts of explorers looking for Incan ruins. While interesting, this simply doesn’t compare to the life-and-death conflict initiated by the arrival of Francisco Pizzaro in Peru. For example, the “treachery” of one explorer not properly crediting another explorer in a book tends to pale in comparison to the actual treachery of Spain executing Emperor Atahualpa. As a result, the end of The Last Days of the Incas, covering the attempts to find Vilcabamba, really dragged.
Leaving aside its anticlimactic ending and occasional theorizing, The Last Days of the Incas is superb. I do not read history simply to memorize dates or the sequence of events. I read history to connect with the people of the past, and to see things through their eyes. The past is a lost world, a world that I want to visit, if only in the imagination. In The Last Days of the Incas, MacQuarrie succeeds in taking you back in time.