Hernando Cortez / Makers of History

This violence, however, was but the beginning of the humiliation and anguish imposed upon the unhappy monarch. The governor, Qualpopoca, who had ventured to resist the Spaniards, was brought a captive to the capital, with his son and fifteen of the principal officers who had served under him. They were immediately surrendered to Cortez, that he might determine their crime and their punishment. Qualpopoca was put to the torture. He avowed, in his intolerable agony, that he had only obeyed the orders of his sovereign. Cortez, who wished to impress the Mexicans with the idea that it was the greatest of all conceivable crimes to cause the death of a Spaniard, determined to inflict upon them a punishment which should appal every beholder. They were all doomed to be burned alive in the great market-place of the city. To allow no time for any resistance to be organized, they were immediately led out for execution. In the royal arsenals there was an immense amount of arrows, spears, javelins, and other wooden martial weapons, which had been collected for the defense of the city. These the soldiers gathered, thus disarming the population, and heaped them up in an immense funeral pile.

While these atrocities were in preparation, Cortez entered the presence of his captive, Montezuma, and sternly accused him of being an accomplice in the death of the Spaniards. He then pitilessly ordered the soldiers who accompanied him to bind upon the hands and the feet of the monarch the iron manacles of a felon. It was one of the most cruel insults which could have been inflicted upon fallen majesty. Montezuma was speechless with horror, and his attendants, who regarded the person of their sovereign with religious veneration, wailed and wept. The shackles being adjusted, Cortez turned abruptly upon his heel, leaving the monarch in the endurance of this ignominious punishment, and went out to attend to the execution of the victims, who were already bound to the stake.

The cruel fires were then kindled. The flames crackled, and rose in fierce, devouring billows around the sufferers. The stern soldiery stood, with musketry and artillery loaded and primed, ready to repel any attempts at rescue. Thousands of Mexicans, with no time for consideration, gazed with awe upon the appalling spectacle; and the Indian chieftains, without a struggle or an audible groan, were burned to ashes. The dreadful execution being terminated, and the blood of the Spaniards being thus avenged by the degradation of the sovereign and the death of his officers, Cortez returned to Montezuma, and ordered the fetters to be struck from his limbs.

Step after step of violence succeeded, until Montezuma was humbled to the dust. The fearful rigor with which Cortez had punished even the slightest attempt to resist the Spaniards overawed the nation. Cortez was now virtually the Emperor of Mexico. The general laws and customs of the nation remained unchanged; but Cortez issued his commands through Montezuma, and the mandates of the imprisoned sovereign were submissively obeyed. With great skill, the Spanish adventurer availed himself of these new powers. He sent a Spanish commission, by the authority and under the protection of Montezuma, to explore the empire—to ascertain its strength and its weakness, its wealth and its resources. These officers went to nearly all the provinces, and, by their arrogant display of power, endeavored to intimidate the natives, and to prepare them for entire subjection to Spain.

Mexican officers, whose fidelity Cortez suspected, were degraded, and their places supplied by others whose influence he had secured. A general contribution of gold was exacted throughout the whole Mexican territories for the benefit of the conquerors.

A large sum was thus collected. One fifth of this was laid aside for his majesty, the King of Spain. Another fifth was claimed by Cortez. The remaining portion was so greatly absorbed to defray the innumerable expenses of the expedition, that only about one hundred crowns fell to the lot of each soldier. This excited discontent so deep and loud that Cortez was compelled to attempt to pacify his men by a public address.

"He called us together," says Diaz, "and in a long set speech, gave us a great many honeyed words, which he had an extraordinary facility of doing, wondering how we could be so solicitous about a little paltry gold when the whole country would soon be ours, with all its rich mines, wherewith there was enough to make us great lords and princes, and I know not what."

Cortez was cautious as well as bold. To prepare for a retreat in case of necessity, should the Mexicans seize their arms and break down their bridges, he wished, without exciting the suspicions of the natives, to build some vessels which would command the lake. He accomplished this with his usual address. In conversation with Montezuma, he gave the monarch such glowing accounts of floating palaces, which would glide rapidly over the water without oars, as to excite the intense curiosity of his captive. Montezuma expressed a strong desire to see these wonderful fabrics. Cortez, under the pretext of gratifying this desire, very obligingly consented to build two brigantines. The resources of the empire were immediately placed at the disposal of Cortez. A multitude of men were sent to the forest to cut down ship-timber and draw it to the lake. Several hundred men of burden were dispatched to Vera Cruz to transport naval stores from that place to Mexico. Aided by so many strong arms, the Spanish carpenters soon succeeded in constructing two vessels, which amused the monarch and his people, and which afforded the Spaniards an invaluable resource in the hour of danger.

But the insolent bearing of the Spaniards had now become to many quite unendurable. Cacamatzin, the chief of the powerful city of Tezcuco, at the farther extremity of the lake, was a nephew of Montezuma. He was a bold man, and his indignation, in view of the pusillanimity of his uncle, at last overleaped his prudence. He began to assemble an army to make war upon the Spaniards. The Mexicans began to rally around their new leader. The indications were alarming to Cortez, and even Montezuma became apprehensive that he might lose his crown, for it was reported that Cacamatzin, regarding his uncle as degraded and a captive, intended to seize the reins of empire. Under these circumstances, Cortez and Montezuma acted in perfect harmony against their common foe. After several unsuccessful stratagems to get possession of the person of the bold chieftain, Montezuma sent some of his nobles, who secretly seized him, and brought him a prisoner to the capital, where he was thrust into prison. A partisan of Cortez was sent to take the place of Cacamatzin as governor of the province of Tezcuco. Thus this danger was averted.

Cortez still felt much solicitude concerning the judgment of the King of Spain respecting his bold assumption of authority. He well knew that Velasquez, the governor of Cuba, whose dominion he had so recklessly renounced, would report the proceedings to the court at Madrid, sustained by all the influence he could command. To conciliate his sovereign, and to bribe him to indulgence, he extorted from the weeping, spirit-crushed sovereign of Mexico an acknowledgment of vassalage to the King of Spain. This humiliating deed was invested with much imposing pomp. All the nobles and lords were assembled in a large hall in the Spanish quarters. The poor monarch wept bitterly, and his voice often broke with emotion as he tremblingly said,

"I speak as the gods direct. Our prophets have told us that a new race is to come to supplant our own. The hour has arrived. The sceptre passes from my hands by the decrees of fate which no one can resist. I now surrender to the King of the East my power and allegiance, and promise to pay to him an annual tribute."

A general outburst of amazement and indignation from the nobles followed this address. Cortez, apprehensive that he might have proceeded a little too far, endeavored to appease the rising agitation by the assurance that his master had no intention to deprive Montezuma of his regal power, or to make any innovations upon the manners and the laws of the Mexicans. The act of submission and homage was, however, executed with all the formalities which Cortez saw fit to prescribe. The nobles retired, exasperated to the highest degree, and burning with desires for vengeance.

Encouraged by these wonderful successes, and by the tame submission of the monarch, Cortez resolved upon the entire overthrow, by violence if necessary, of the whole system of idolatry, and to introduce Catholic Christianity in its stead. He had often, with the most importunate zeal, urged Montezuma to renounce his false gods and to embrace the Christian faith. But superstition was too firmly enthroned in the heart of the Mexican monarch to be easily supplanted. To every thing but this the monarch was ready to yield; but every proposition to renounce his gods he rejected with horror. Cortez at length firmly ordered his soldiers to march to the temples and sweep them clean of every vestige of paganism. This roused the priests. They seized their arms, and the alarm was spread rapidly through the streets of the city. Vast multitudes, grasping such weapons as they could get, assembled around the temples, resolved to brave every peril in defense of their religion. Matters assumed an aspect so threatening, that, for the first time, Cortez found it necessary to draw back. He contented himself with simply ejecting the gods from one of the shrines, and in erecting in their stead an image of the Virgin.

There were now many indications of approaching trouble. The natives were greatly provoked, and it was evident that they were watching for a favorable opportunity to rise against their invaders. Cortez practiced the most sleepless vigilance. Diaz speaks thus of the hardships he and his comrades endured:

Just in this crisis alarming intelligence was received from the commander of the garrison at Vera Cruz. One of the ships of the delegation sent to Spain, of which we have previously spoken, had, contrary to the orders of Cortez, stopped at Cuba. In this way the indignant governor, Velasquez, learned that Cortez had renounced all connection with him, and had set up an independent colony. His anger was roused to the utmost, and he resolved upon summary vengeance. It so happened that Velasquez had just received from his sovereign the appointment of governor for life, and was authorized to prosecute discoveries in Mexico with very extensive and exclusive privileges and powers.

He immediately fitted out an armament consisting of nineteen ships, with eighty horsemen, fourteen hundred soldiers, and twenty pieces of cannon. This was, in that day, a formidable force. The commandant, Narvaez, was ordered to seize Cortez and his principal officers, and send them in chains to Cuba. He was then, in the name of Velasquez, to prosecute the discovery and the conquest of the country.

After a prosperous voyage, the fleet cast anchor in the Bay of St. Juan de Ulua, and the soldiers were landed. Narvaez then sent a summons to the governor of Vera Cruz to surrender. Sandoval, the commandant, however, being zealously attached to Cortez, seized the envoy and his attendants, and sent them in chains to the capital, with intelligence of the impending peril. Cortez, with his wonted sagacity, received them as friends, ordered their chains to be struck off, condemned the severity of Sandoval, and loaded them with caresses and presents. He thus won their confidence, and drew from them all the particulars of the force, and the intentions of the expedition. Cortez had great cause for alarm when he learned that Narvaez was instructed to espouse the cause of Montezuma; to assure the Mexican monarch that the violence which he had suffered was unauthorized by the King of Spain, and that he was ready to assist Montezuma and his subjects in repelling the invaders from the capital. From peril so imminent no ordinary man could have extricated himself. Narvaez was already on the march, and the natives, enraged against Cortez, were in great numbers joining the standard of the new-comers. Already emissaries from the camp of Narvaez had reached the capital, and had communicated to Montezuma, through the nobles, intelligence that Narvaez was marching to his relief. Montezuma was overjoyed, and his nobles were elated with hope, as they secretly collected arms and marshaled their forces for battle.

Cortez immediately dispatched Father Olmedo to meet Narvaez to propose terms of accommodation. He was fully aware that no such terms as he proposed could be acceded to; but Olmedo and his attendants were enjoined, as the main but secret object of their mission, to do every thing they could, by presents, caresses, promises, and glowing descriptions of the greatness of Cortez, his power, and the glory opening before him, to induce the officers and soldiers of Narvaez to abandon his standard, and range themselves under the banner of Cortez.

At the same time, Cortez, leaving one hundred and fifty men, under Alvarado, to guard the fortified camp in the metropolis, set out by forced marches, with the rest of his force, to fall unexpectedly upon Narvaez. His strength did not exceed two hundred and fifty men. In a great emergency like this, the natives could not be trusted. As Cortez drew near his foe, he found that Narvaez was encamped upon a great plain in the vicinity of Zempoalla. A terrible tempest arose. Black clouds darkened the sky, and the rain fell in floods. The soldiers of Narvaez, drenched through and through by the unceasing torrents, demanded to be led to the shelter of the houses in Zempoalla. They deemed it impossible that any foe could approach in such a storm; but the storm, in all its pitiless fury, was the very re-enforcement which Cortez and his men desired. Black midnight came, and the careering tempest swept the deluged streets of Zempoalla, driving even the sentinels to seek shelter.

Cortez gathered his little band around him, and roused them, by a vigorous harangue, for an immediate attack. The odds were fearful. Cortez had but two hundred and fifty men. Narvaez had fifteen hundred, with nineteen pieces of artillery and eighty horsemen. Giving the soldiers for their countersign the inspiring words, "The Holy Spirit," they rushed through the darkness and the raging storm upon the unsuspecting foe. They first directed their energies for the capture of the artillery. The party who made this attack was headed by Pizarro, "an active lad," says Diaz, "whose name, however, was at that time as little known as that of Peru." The guns were seized, after a short and not a very sanguinary struggle. They then, without a moment's delay, turned upon the horsemen. But the sleeping foe was now effectually aroused. A short scene of consternation, clamor, horror, and blood ensued. The companions of Cortez fought with the energies of despair. To them, defeat was certain death. The soldiers of Narvaez were bewildered. Many of them, even before the battle, were half disposed to abandon Narvaez and join the standard of Cortez, of whose renown they had heard such glowing accounts. Taken by a midnight surprise, they fought manfully for a time. But at length, in the hot and tumultuary fight, a spear pierced the cheek of Narvaez, and tore out one of his eyes. He was struck down and made a prisoner. This led to an immediate surrender. The genius of Cortez had most signally triumphed. Though many were wounded in this conflict, but two men on the side of Cortez were killed, and fifteen of the party of Narvaez.

The artful conqueror loaded the vanquished with favors, and soon succeeded in winning nearly all of them to engage in his service. With enthusiasm these new recruits, thus singularly gained, rallied around him, eager to march in the paths of glory to which such a leader could guide them.

This achievement was hardly accomplished ere a new peril menaced the victorious Spaniard. An express arrived from the Mexican metropolis with the intelligence that the Mexicans had risen in arms; that they had attacked the Spaniards in their quarters, and had killed several, and had wounded more; that they had also seized the two brigantines, destroyed the magazine of provisions, and that the whole garrison was in imminent danger of destruction.

Immediately collecting his whole force, now greatly augmented by the accession of the vanquished troops of Narvaez, with their cavalry and artillery, Cortez hastened back from Zempoalla to the rescue of his beleaguered camp. His army now, with his strangely acquired re-enforcement, amounted to over a thousand infantry and a hundred cavalry, besides several thousands of the natives, whom he recruited from his allies, the Totonacs.

The danger was so imminent that his troops were urged to the utmost possible rapidity of march. At Tlascala, two thousand of those fierce warriors joined him; but as he advanced into the territory of Montezuma, he met every where the evidences of strong disaffection to his cause. The nobles avoided his camp. The inhabitants of cities and villages retired at his approach. No food was brought to him. The natives made no attempt to oppose a force so resistless, but they left before him a path of silence and solitude.

When the Spaniards arrived at the causeway which led to the city, they found, to their surprise, that the Mexicans had not destroyed the bridges, but throughout the whole length of this narrow passage no person was to be seen. No one welcomed or opposed. Fiercely those stern men strode on, over the causeway and through the now deserted streets, till they entered into the encampment of their comrades.

The insurrection had been suddenly excited by an atrocious massacre on the part of Alvarado. This leader, a brave soldier, but destitute either of tact or judgment, suspected, or pretended to suspect, that the Mexican nobles were conspiring to attack him. One of their religious festivals was at hand, when all the principal nobles of the empire were to be assembled in the performance of the rites of their religion, in the court-yard of the great temple. Suddenly Alvarado came upon them, when they were thus unarmed and unsuspicious, and, cutting them off from every avenue of escape, with musketry, artillery, and the keen sabres of his horsemen, mercilessly hewed them down. Nearly six hundred of the flower of the Mexican nobility were massacred. Though Cortez was very indignant with his lieutenant when he heard this story from his lips, and exclaimed, "Your conduct has been that of a madman," he was still enraged with the Mexicans for venturing to attack his garrison, and declared that they should feel the weight of Spanish vengeance.

In his displeasure, he refused to call upon Montezuma. Elated by the success with which he had thus far triumphed over all obstacles, and deeming the forces he now had under his command sufficient to sweep, like chaff before the whirlwind, any armies which the natives could raise, he gave free utterance to expressions of contempt for both prince and people. There had been a tacit truce between the two parties for a few days, and had Cortez disavowed the conduct of his subaltern, and pursued conciliatory measures, it is possible that the natives might again have been appeased. The insolent tone he assumed, and his loud menace of vengeance, aroused the natives anew, and they grasped their arms with a degree of determination and ferocity never manifested before.

Bernal Diaz in the following terms records this event:

Chapter VIII.

The force which Cortez now had under his command, if we take into consideration the efficiency of European discipline and of European weapons of warfare, was truly formidable. In the stone buildings which protected and encircled his encampment, he could marshal, in battle array, twelve hundred Spaniards and eight thousand native allies; but they were nearly destitute of provisions, and the natives were rapidly assembling from all quarters in countless numbers. Cortez sent four hundred men out into the streets to reconnoitre. They had hardly emerged from the walls of their fortress before they were assailed with shouts of vengeance, and a storm of arrows and javelins fell upon them. Phrenzied multitudes thronged the streets and the house-tops, and from the roofs and the summits of the temples, stones and all similar missiles were poured down upon the heads of the Spaniards. With great difficulty this strong detachment fought their way back to their fortified quarters, having lost twenty-three in killed, and a large number being wounded.

This success greatly emboldened the Mexicans, and in locust legions they pressed upon the Spanish quarters, rending the air with their unearthly shouts, and darkening the sky with their missiles. The artillery was immediately brought to bear upon them, and every volley opened immense gaps in their ranks; but the places of the dead were instantly occupied by others, and there seemed to be no end to their numbers. Never did mortal men display more bravery than these exasperated Mexicans exhibited, struggling for their homes and their rights. Twice they came very near forcing an entrance over the walls into the Spanish quarters. Had they succeeded, in a hand to hand fight numbers must have triumphed, and the Spaniards must have been inevitably destroyed; but the batteries of the Spaniards mowed down the assailants like grass before the scythe, and the Mexicans were driven from the walls. All the day long the conflict was continued, and late into the night. The ground was covered with the dead when darkness stopped the carnage.

The soldiers of Narvaez, unaccustomed to such scenes, and appalled by the fury and the number of their enemies, began to murmur loudly. They had been promised the spoils of an empire which they were assured was already conquered; instead of this, they found themselves in the utmost peril, exposed to a conflict with a vigorous and exasperated enemy, surrounding them with numbers which could not be counted. Bitterly they execrated their own folly in allowing themselves to be thus deluded; but their murmurs could now be of no avail. The only hope for the Spaniards was in united and indomitable courage.

The energies of Cortez increased with the difficulties which surrounded him. During the night he selected a strong force of picked men to make a vigorous sally in the morning. To nerve them to higher daring, he resolved to head the perilous enterprise himself. He availed himself of all his knowledge of Indian warfare, and of all the advantages which European military art could furnish. In the early dawn, these troops, in solid column, rushed from the gates of their fortress; but the foe, greatly augmented by the fresh troops which had been pouring in during the night, were ready to receive him. Both parties fought with ferocity which has never been surpassed. Cortez, to his inexpressible chagrin, found himself compelled to retire before the natives, who, in numbers perfectly amazing, were crowding upon him.

Most of the streets were traversed by canals. The bridges were broken down, and the Spaniards, thus arrested in their progress and crowded together, were overwhelmed with stones and arrows from the house-tops. Cortez set fire to the houses every where along his line of march. Though the walls of many of these buildings were of stone, the flames ran eagerly through the dry and combustible interior, and leaped from roof to roof. A wide and wasting conflagration soon swept horribly through the doomed city, adding to the misery of the bloody strife. All the day long the battle raged. The streets were strewn with the bodies of the dead, and crimsoned with gore. The natives cheerfully sacrificed a hundred of their own lives to take the life of one of their foes. The Spaniards were, however, at length driven back behind their walls, leaving twelve of their number dead in the streets, and having sixty severely wounded.

Another night darkened over the bloodstained and smouldering city. The Spaniards, exhausted by the interminable conflict, still stood fiercely behind their ramparts. The natives, in continually increasing numbers, surrounded them, filling the night air with shrieks of defiance and rage. Cortez had displayed personally the most extraordinary heroism during the protracted strife. His situation now seemed desperate. Though many thousands of the Mexicans had been slaughtered during the day, recruits flocked in so rapidly that their numbers remained undiminished. Cortez had received a severe wound in his hand which caused him intense anguish. His soldiers could hardly stand from their exhaustion. Many had been slain, and nearly all were wounded. The maddened roar of countless thousands of the fiercest warriors surging around their bulwarks almost deafened the ear. Every moment it was apprehended that the walls would be scaled, and the inundation pour in resistlessly upon them.

In this extremity Cortez decided to appeal to his captive Montezuma, and try the effect of his interposition to soothe or overawe his subjects. Assuming the tone of humanity, he affected to deplore the awful carnage which had taken place. He affirmed that the city must inevitably be destroyed entirely, and the inhabitants generally slaughtered, unless they could be induced to lay down their arms. Montezuma, from one of the towers of the Spanish fortress, had watched, with a throbbing heart and flooded eyes, the progress of the fight as the flames swept through the streets, and destruction, like a scythe, mowed down his subjects. The amiable, beloved, perplexed sovereign was thus induced, though with much hesitation, to interpose. He was adored by his people; but he believed that the Spaniards were enthroned by the voice of destiny, and that resistance would but involve the nation in a more bloody ruin.

Another morning dawned upon the combatants. In its earliest light the battle was again renewed with increasing fury. No pen can describe the tumult of this wild war. The yell of countless thousands of assailants, the clang of their trumpets, gongs, and drums, the clash of arms, the rattle of musketry, and the roar of artillery, presented a scene which had never before found a parallel in the New World.

Suddenly all the tumult was hushed as the venerated emperor, dressed in his imperial robes, appeared upon the walls, and waved his hand to command the attention of his subjects. At the sight of their beloved sovereign silence almost instantaneously prevailed, all bowed their heads in reverence, and many prostrated themselves upon the ground. Montezuma earnestly entreated them to cease from the conflict, assuring them that the Spaniards would retire from the city if the Mexicans would lay down their arms.

"The war will soon be over," a Mexican shouted from the crowd, "for we have all sworn that not a Spaniard shall leave the city alive."

As Montezuma continued his urgency, pleading for the detested Spaniards, the natives for a few moments longer continued to listen patiently. But gradually a sullen murmur, like a rising breeze, began to spread through the ranks. Reproaches and threats succeeded. Indignation now overtopped all barriers, and a shower of stones and arrows suddenly fell upon the unhappy monarch. Cortez had taken the precaution to send a body-guard upon the wall with Montezuma, with bucklers for his protection; but so sudden and unexpected was the assault, that two arrows pierced his body, and a stone, striking him on the temple, felled him senseless to the ground before they could raise their shields. This was the last drop in the cup of bitterness which Montezuma was doomed to drain. The wounded monarch was conveyed to his apartment, crushed in spirit, and utterly broken-hearted. Finally, resolved no longer to live, he tore the bandages from his wounds, and refused all nourishment. Silent, and brooding over his terrible calamities, he lingered, the picture of dejection and woe, for a few days, until he died.

In the mean time the battle was resumed with all its fury. Throughout the day it raged with the most intense ferocity. The Mexicans took possession of a high tower which commanded the Spanish quarters. It was necessary to dislodge them at any sacrifice. A detachment of chosen men was three times repulsed in its desperate assault. Cortez, aware that the safety of the army depended upon the result, ordered a buckler to be bound to his arm, as he could not grasp it with his wounded hand, and placed himself at the head of the attacking column. Animated by his voice and example, the Spaniards forced their way up the steps of the temple, driving the Mexicans before them. Having reached the spacious platform on the summit, a terrible strife ensued. Two young Mexican nobles resolved to effect the destruction of Cortez by the sacrifice of their own lives. They seized him, dragged him to the battlements, and threw themselves over while clinging to his person, that they might thus dash him also upon the pavement beneath. But Cortez, by his wonderful strength and agility, shook them off, and thus broke from their grasp, though they both perished. The victorious Spaniards then set fire to the tower. Other sorties were made during the day, and the wretched city was as the crater of a volcano of flame and blood. The energies of both parties seemed to redouble with despair.

At last another night spread its veil over the infuriated combatants. In its darkest watches, the indomitable Cortez made a sortie at the head of a strong band, and set three hundred buildings in flames. The lurid fire, crackling to the skies, illumined the tranquil lake, and gleamed portentously upon the most distant villages in the vast mountain-girdled valley. The tumult of the midnight assault, the shrieks of the women and children, and the groans of the wounded and the dying, blended dismally with the roar of the conflagration.

Cortez now summoned the Mexican chiefs to a parley. He stood upon the wall. The beautiful Marina, as interpreter, stood at his side. The native chiefs were upon the ground before him. The inflexible Spanish commander endeavored to intimidate his determined foes by threats.

"If you do not immediately submit," said he, "I will lay the whole city in ashes, and every man, woman, and child shall be put to the sword."

They answered defiantly,

"The bridges are broken down, and you can not escape. You have better weapons of war than we, but we have greater numbers. If we offer a thousand lives for one, we will continue the battle till you are all destroyed."

Saying this, they gave a signal, and a storm of arrows and javelins pierced the air, and fell into the beleaguered fortress. Notwithstanding the bold tone assumed by Cortez, the Spaniards were in great dismay. It was manifest to all that their destruction was certain unless they could cut their way through the enemy, and escape from the city. The extraordinary energies of this iron fanatic still remained unshaken. Calmly he reflected upon his position, examined his resources, and formed his plans. The Mexicans had barricaded the streets, and had broken down the causeways, to prevent, if possible, the escape of their foes. But there was no longer any alternative for Cortez. Destruction was certain unless he could effect his escape. He decided to make the desperate attempt at midnight. He immediately constructed moving towers, to be pushed through the streets on wheels, at the head of his columns, under the protection of which his soldiers could force their way, and make every bullet accomplish its mission. A platform on the top could be let down, affording a bridge to the roofs of the houses, thus placing the Spaniards on a level with their assailants. The sides of the towers were amply strong to repel darts and arrows. Thus protected from all harm, the sharpshooters could sweep the streets and the house-tops.

At midnight the retreat was commenced in three divisions. Sandoval led the van, Alvarado the rear. Cortez took command of the centre, where he placed the distinguished prisoners, among whom were a son and daughter of Montezuma, and several of the high nobles. He also carried with his division the artillery, the baggage, and a portable bridge, ingeniously constructed of timber, to be laid over the breaches in the causeway. In profound silence the army issued from their quarters, and marched firmly along through the smouldering and gory streets.

For a little time they advanced unmolested; but the Mexicans were watching their movements, and were silently making dispositions for a tremendous onset. Suddenly the shout of an innumerable multitude and the clash of arms rose fearfully in the dark night air, and from every quarter the natives came rushing on, and stones, javelins, darts, and arrows rattled like hail-stones upon helmet and buckler. Every inch of the way was now contested. The progress of the Spaniards, though slow, was resistless, the cannon and the musketry sweeping down all obstacles.

At last they arrived at one of the numerous canals which every where intersected the city. The bridge was destroyed, and the deep waters flowing from the lake cut off all retreat. The wooden bridge, prepared for such an emergence, was thrown across the chasm. The head of the Spanish column fought its way over successfully; but, unfortunately, the weight of the artillery and of the dense throng wedged the timbers so fast into the stones that all their efforts could not again remove them. Their peril was growing every moment more imminent, as the roused natives were thronging to every point where the retiring foe could be assailed. They were thus compelled to leave the bridge behind them.

Advancing precipitately, the Spaniards soon arrived at a second breach. Here they found themselves hemmed in on all sides, and they had no means of bridging the gap; but, planting their cannon so as to hold the natives at bay, every available hand was employed in filling the chasm with stones and timbers torn from the demolished and smouldering dwellings. The labor was difficult and perilous, for they were incessantly assailed by the most pelting storm of the missiles of destruction.

For two days this terrific conflict raged. Seven breaches in the canals they were compelled thus to bridge with stones and timbers torn from the adjacent streets; but the Spaniards still slowly advanced, triumphing with difficulty over every obstacle which the natives could interpose. Though they thus sternly fought their way along, trampling beneath them the mutilated bodies of the dying and of the dead, at the close of the second day they found their foes more numerous and their situation more desperate than ever.

As the gloom of night again descended, a deeper, heavier gloom rested upon all in the heart of the Spanish camp. A wailing storm arose of wind and rain, and nature mourned and wept as if in sympathy with the woes of man. Availing themselves of the darkness and of the uproar of the midnight tempest, though weary, faint, and bleeding, they urged their steps along the war-scathed streets, for a time strangely encountering no opposition. But when they reached the long causeway, nearly two miles in length and but thirty feet wide, by which alone they could reach the land, a yell of exultation suddenly rose from the black and storm-lashed waters of the lake, loud as the heaviest thunders. The whole lake, on both sides of the causeway, seemed alive with the boats of the natives, and the Spaniards were immediately assailed by the swarming multitudes, who, in the fierce and maddened strife, set all danger at defiance.

War never exhibited a more demoniac aspect. The natives opposed their advance, crowded their rear, and clambered up the sides of the causeway, attacking the foe on each flank with indescribable fury. Fresh warriors instantly rushed into the place where their comrades had fallen, and those in the rear of the tumultuous mass crowded their companions in the front ranks resistlessly upon the compact enemy.

There were three chasms in the causeway broken by the Mexicans which the Spaniards were compelled to bridge in the darkness and the storm, and while assailed by an innumerable and almost an invisible foe. Imagination can not compass the horrors of that night. Noche triste, dismal night, is the name by which it has ever since been distinguished. In the awful confusion, military skill and discipline were of but little avail. The Spaniards could with difficulty distinguish friend from foe, and ere long they were nearly all quite swept away by the torrent rushing so resistlessly upon them.