Montezuma, on the return of his embassadors, finding that no argument could dissuade Cortez, and fearing by opposition to provoke the hostility of an enemy who wielded such supernatural thunders, now decided to change his policy, and by cordiality to endeavor to win his friendship. He accordingly sent another embassy, with still richer presents, inviting Cortez to his capital, and assuring him of a warm welcome. He entreated him, however, not to enter into any alliance with the Tlascalans, the most fierce and unrelenting foes of the Mexican empire.

The time had now arrived for Cortez to resume his march. The zeal of the Tlascalans to accompany him was so great that, according to his representation, he might have taken with him one hundred thousand volunteers. He, however, considered this force too unwieldy, and accepted of but six thousand picked troops. This, however, was a strong re-enforcement, and Cortez now rode proudly at the head of a regular army which could bid defiance to all opposition.

Eighteen miles from Tlascala was situated the city of Cholula, and this city was but sixty-four miles east of the renowned Mexican metropolis. Cholula was a city whose population was estimated at one hundred thousand. As it belonged to Mexico, the bitterest animosity existed between its inhabitants and those of Tlascala. Cortez was warned by his new allies not to enter the city, as he might depend upon encountering treachery there; but the Spanish general considered himself now too strong to turn aside from any danger.

As the Spanish army approached the city, a procession came out to meet them, with banners, and bands of music, and censers smoking with incense. Numerous nobles and priests headed the procession. They received Cortez and the Zempoallans with every demonstration of friendship, but declined admitting their inveterate enemies, the Tlascalans, within their walls. Cortez accordingly ordered these allies to encamp upon the plain before the city, while he, with the rest of the army, marched with great military pomp into the metropolis, which was resounding with acclamations.

He found a beautiful city, with wide, neatly-arranged streets and handsome dwellings. It was the sacred city of the Mexicans. Many gorgeous temples lined the streets, and one of extraordinary grandeur was the most renowned sanctuary of the empire. It is alleged by some, and denied by others, that the Mexicans had invited the Spaniards into the holy city, hoping by the aid of the gods to effect their entire destruction. The Tlascalans, who were encamped outside of the city, affirmed that the women and children of the principal inhabitants were leaving the city by night. They also declared that a large body of Mexican troops were concealed near the town. Two of the Tlascalans, who had entered the city in disguise, declared that some of the streets were barricaded, and that others were undermined, and but slightly covered over, as traps for the horses. They also reported that six children had recently been sacrificed in the chief temple, which was a certain indication that some great military enterprise was on foot. Cortez, however, did not place much reliance upon this testimony from the Tlascalans. He was well aware that they would be glad, in any way, to bring down destruction on Cholula.

But more reliable testimony came from the amiable Marina. She had won the love of one of the noble ladies of the city. This woman, wishing to save Marina from destruction, informed her that a plot was in progress for the inevitable ruin of her friends. According to her account, deep pits were dug and concealed in the streets, stones carried to the tops of the houses and the temples, and that Mexican troops were secretly drawing near. The fatal hour was at hand, and escape impossible.

The energy of Cortez was now roused. Quietly he drew up the Spanish and Zempoallan troops, armed to the teeth, in the heart of the city. He sent a secret order to the Tlascalans to approach, and, at a given signal, to fall upon the surprised and unarmed Cholulans, and cut them down without mercy. He then, upon a friendly pretext, sent for the magistrates of the city and all the principal nobles. They were immediately assembled, and the signal for massacre was given.

The poor natives, taken entirely by surprise, rushed in dismay this way and that, encountering death at every corner. The Tlascalans, like hungry wolves, swept through the streets, glutting themselves with blood. It was with them the carnival of insatiable revenge. The dwellings were sacked piteously, and the city every where kindled into flame. Women and children were seized by the merciless Tlascalans to grace their triumph, and to bleed upon their altars of human sacrifice. For two days this horrid scene continued. At last, from exhaustion, the carnage ceased. The city was reduced to smouldering ruins, and pools of blood and mutilated carcases polluted the streets. The wail of the wretched survivors, homeless and friendless, rose to the ear of Heaven more dismal than the piercing shriek of anguish which is silenced by death. The argument with which Cortez defends this outrage is very laconic:

"Had I not done this to them, they would have done the same to me."

Such is war—congenial employment only for fiends. It is Satan's work, and can be efficiently prosecuted only by Satan's instruments. Six thousand Cholulans were slain in this awful massacre. The Spaniards were now sufficiently avenged. Cortez issued a proclamation offering pardon to all who had escaped the massacre, and inviting them to return to their smouldering homes. Slowly they returned, women and children, from the mountains where they had fled; some, who had feigned death, crept from beneath the bodies of the slain, and others emerged from hiding-places in their devastated dwellings. The cacique of the Cholulans had been killed in the general slaughter. Cortez appointed a brother of the late cacique to rule over the city, and, in apparently a sincere proclamation, informed the bereaved and miserable survivors that it was with the greatest sorrow that he had found himself compelled by their treachery to this terrible punishment. The Tlascalans, glutted with the blood of their ancient foes, were compelled to surrender all their prisoners, for Cortez would allow of no human sacrifices.

Cortez thought that the natives were now in a very suitable frame of mind for his peculiar kind of conversion. They were truly very pliant. No resistance was offered to the Spanish soldiers as they tumbled the idols out of the temples, and reared in their stead the cross and the image of the Virgin. Public thanksgivings were then offered to God in the purified temples of the heathen for the victory he had vouchsafed, and mass was celebrated by the whole army.

In the year 1842, Hon. Waddy Thompson passed over the plain where once stood the city of Cholula. He thus describes it:

After the delay of a fortnight, Cortez resumed his march toward the capital of Mexico, which was now distant from him but twenty leagues. It was now the 29th of October. The tidings of the horrible retribution which had fallen upon Cholula spread far and wide, and it accomplished its end in preventing any farther manifestations of hostility. City after city, appalled by this exhibition of the vengeance of those foes who wielded the thunder and the lightning of heaven, and who, with the dreadful war-horse, could overtake the swiftest foe, sent in the most humble messages of submission, with accompanying presents, to propitiate the favor of the terrible invaders.

Montezuma, as he was informed of the fate of Cholula, turned pale upon his throne, and trembled in every fibre. He dreaded unspeakably to have the Spaniards enter his capital, and yet he dared not undertake to oppose them. Cortez sent embassadors before him to the capital with the following message to Montezuma:

"The Cholulans have asserted that Montezuma instigated their treachery. I will not believe it. Montezuma is a great and a powerful sovereign; he would make war in the open field, and not by cowardly stratagem. The Spaniards, however, are ready for any warfare, secret or open."

This was bold defiance. Montezuma superstitiously read in it the decree of fate announcing his doom. He returned an answer solemnly declaring that he had no part in the guilt of the Cholulans, and renewedly inviting Cortez to visit his city.

The country through which the adventurers passed became increasingly populous, luxuriant, and beautiful. They were continually met by embassies from the different cities on or near their route, endeavoring to propitiate their favor by protestations of allegiance and gifts of gold. They also perceived many indications of discontent with the reign of Montezuma, which encouraged Cortez greatly in his expectation of being able to overturn the empire, by availing himself of the alienation existing in its constituent parts. Multitudes of the disaffected joined the army of Cortez, where they were all warmly welcomed. "Thus," says Clavigero, "the farther the Spaniards advanced into the country, the more they continued to increase their forces; like a rivulet which, by the accession of other streams, swells in its course into a large river."

For several days they toiled resolutely along, "recommending," says Diaz, "our souls to the Lord Jesus Christ, who had brought us through our past dangers," until, from the heights of Ithualco, they looked down over the majestic, the enchanting valley of Mexico. A more perfectly lovely scene has rarely greeted human eyes. In the far distance could be discerned, through the transparent atmosphere, the dim blue outline of the mountains by which the almost boundless basin of Mexico was girdled. Forests and rivers, orchards and lakes, cultivated fields and beautiful villages adorned the landscape. The magnificent city of Mexico was situated, in queenly splendor, upon islands in the bosom of a series of lakes more than a hundred miles in length. Innumerable towns, with their lofty temples, and white, picturesque dwellings, fringed the margin of the crystal waters. The circumference of the valley girdled by the mountains was nearly two hundred miles.

The Spaniards gazed upon the enchanting scene with amazement, and many of them with alarm. They saw indications of civilization and of power far beyond what they had anticipated. Cortez, however, relying upon the efficiency of gunpowder, and also deeming himself invincible while the sacred banner of the cross waved over his army, marched boldly on. The love of plunder was a latent motive omnipotent in his soul, and he saw undreamed of wealth lavishly spread before him. Though Cortez was, at this period of his life, a stranger to the sordid vice of avarice, he coveted intensely boundless wealth, to be profusely distributed in advancing his great plans.[D]

Montezuma was continually vacillating as to the course to be pursued. At one hour he would resolve to marshal his armies, and fall, if fall he must, gloriously, amid the ruins of his empire. The next hour timidity would be in the ascendant, and a new embassy would be sent to Cortez, with courteous speeches and costly gifts. The unhappy monarch, in his despair, had gone to one of the most sacred of the sanctuaries of the empire to mourn and to pray. Here he passed eight days in the performance of all the humiliating and penitential rites of his religion. But each day Cortez drew nearer, and the crowds accumulating around him increased.

The spirit of Montezuma was now so crushed that he sent an embassy to Cortez offering him four loads of gold for himself, and one for each of his captains, and he also promised to pay a yearly tribute to the King of Spain, if the dreaded conqueror would turn back. This messenger met the Spanish army upon the heights of Ithualco, as they were gazing with admiration upon the goodly land spread out before them. Cortez listened with much secret satisfaction to this messenger, as an indication of the weakness and the fear of the great monarch. Returning the laconic answer, "I must see Montezuma, and deliver to him personally the message of the emperor my master," he more eagerly pressed on his way.

Montezuma received this response as the doom decreed to him by fate. "Of what avail," the unhappy monarch is reported to have said, "is resistance, when the gods have declared themselves against us? Yet I mourn most for the old and infirm, the women and children, too feeble to fight or to fly. For myself and the brave men around me, we must bare our breasts to the storm, and meet it as we may."

The Spaniards had now arrived at the city of Amaquemecan. They were received by the principal inhabitants of the place with an ostentatious display of courtesy and friendship. Two very large stone buildings were provided for their accommodation. This profuse hospitality was excited by terror. After resting here two days, Cortez resumed his march. Their path still led through smiling villages and fields of maize, and through gardens blooming with gorgeous flowers, which the natives cultivated with religious and almost passionate devotion.

At last they arrived at Ayotzingo—the Venice of the New World—an important town, built on wooden piles in the waters of Lake Chalco. Gondolas of every variety of color, and of graceful structure, glided through the liquid streets. The main body of the Spanish army encamped outside of the city. A vast concourse of the natives flocked to the camp. Cortez became suspicious of premeditated treachery, and fifteen or twenty of the natives were heartlessly shot down, as an intimidation. The terrified Indians did not venture to resent this cruel requital of their hospitality.

After remaining here two days, the march was again resumed along the southern shores of Lake Chalco. Clusters of villages, embowered in luxuriant foliage, and crimson with flowers, fringed the lake. The waters were covered with the light boats of the natives, gliding in every direction. At last they came to a narrow dike or causeway, five miles long, and so narrow that but two or three horsemen could ride abreast. In the middle of this causeway, which separated Lake Chalco from Lake Xochicalco, was built the town of Cuitlahuac, which Cortez described as the most beautiful he had yet seen. Before the mansions of the principal inhabitants there were lawns ornamented with trees and shrubbery. Temples and lofty towers rose in much majesty of architecture. Floating gardens were constructed on the lake, and innumerable boats, plied by the strong arms of the native rowers, almost covered the placid waters. As the Spaniards marched along this narrow causeway, the crowd became so immense that Cortez was obliged to resort to threats of violence to force his way. The place was so very favorable for the natives to make an assault, that Cortez conducted the march with the utmost possible vigilance, and commanded the Indians not to come near his ranks unless they chose to be regarded as enemies. The adventurers were, however, received in Cuitlahuac with the utmost kindness, and all their wants were abundantly supplied.

When they had crossed the narrow causeway, and had arrived on the other side of the lake, they entered the city of Iztapalapan, which contained, according to their estimate, about fifteen thousand houses. The city was in the near vicinity of the capital. The natives, with refinement and taste not yet equaled by the money-making millions of North America, had allotted land in the centre of the city for a vast public garden, blooming with flowers of every variety of splendor. A large aviary was filled with birds of gorgeous plumage and sweet song. A stone reservoir, of ample dimensions, contained water to irrigate the grounds, and it was also abundantly stored with fish. Many of the chiefs of the neighboring cities had assembled here to meet Cortez. They received him with courtesy, with hospitality, but with reserve. He was now but a few miles from the renowned metropolis of Montezuma, and the turrets of the lofty temples of idolatry which embellished the capital glittered in the sunlight before him.

Another night passed away, and, as another morning dawned, the Spanish army was again on the march. It was the 8th of November, 1519. When they drew near the city, they were first met by a procession of a thousand of the principal inhabitants, adorned with waving plumes, and clad in finely-embroidered mantles. They announced that their renowned Emperor Montezuma was advancing to welcome the strangers. They were now upon the causeway which led from the main land to the island city. The long and narrow way was thronged with crowds which could not be numbered, while on each side the lake was darkened with boats. Soon the glittering train of the emperor appeared in the distance.

Montezuma was accompanied by the highest possible pomp of semi-barbarian etiquette and splendor. He was seated in a gorgeous palanquin, waving with plumes and glittering with gold, and was borne on the shoulders of four noblemen. Three officers, each holding a golden rod, walked before him. Others supported over his head, by four posts, to shelter him from the sun, a canopy of beautiful workmanship, richly embellished with green feathers, and gold, and precious gems. The monarch wore upon his head a golden crown, surmounted by a rich head-dress of plumes. A mantle, richly embroidered with the most costly ornaments, was folded gracefully upon his shoulders. Buskins, fringed with gold, fitted closely to his legs, and the soles of his shoes were of gold. He was tall, well formed, and a peculiarly handsome man.

As the monarch drew near, Cortez dismounted, and advanced on foot to meet him. At the same time Montezuma alighted from his palanquin, and, leaning upon the arms of two of the highest members of his court, with great dignity approached his dreaded guest. His attendants in the mean time spread before their monarch rich carpets, that his sacred feet might not come in contact with the ground. An expression of anxiety and of deep melancholy overspread the countenance of the sovereign.

The Mexican emperor and the Spanish marauder met in the interchange of all Mexican and Castilian courtesies. After the exchange of a few words, the whole blended cortège marched through the immense crowd, which opened before them, and entered the imperial city. "Who," exclaims Diaz, "could count the number of men, women, and children which thronged the streets, the canals, and terraces on the tops of the houses on that day? The whole of what I saw on this occasion is so strongly imprinted on my memory that it appears to me as if it had happened only yesterday. Glory to our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave us courage to venture upon such dangers, and brought us safely through them."

Montezuma himself conducted Cortez to the quarters which he had prepared for his reception in the heart of the metropolis. With refinement of politeness which would have done honor to the court of Louis XIV., he said, on retiring,

"You are now, with your brothers, in your own house. Refresh yourselves after your fatigue, and be happy until I return."

The spot assigned to the Spaniards was an immense palace, or, rather, range of mansions, in the very centre of the metropolis, erected by the father of Montezuma. The buildings inclosed an immense court-yard. The whole was surrounded by a strong stone wall, surmounted with towers for defense and ornament. Cortez could not have constructed for himself a more admirable citadel for the accomplishment of his ambitious and violent purposes. The apartment assigned to the Spanish chieftain was tapestried with the finest embroidered cotton. The rooms and courts were so large as to afford ample accommodations for the whole Spanish army.

Cortez, with vigilance which never slept, immediately fortified his quarters, so as to guard against any possible surprise. Artillery was planted to sweep every avenue. Sentinels were posted at important points, with orders to observe the same diligence by night and by day as if they were in the midst of hostile armies. A large division of the troops was always on guard, prepared for every possible emergency.

In the evening, Montezuma returned, with great pomp, to visit his terrible guests, and to inquire if they were provided with every thing which could promote their comfort. He brought with him presents of great value for Cortez and his officers, and also for each one of the privates in the Spanish camp. A long conference ensued, during which Montezuma betrayed his apprehension that the Spaniards were the conquerors indicated by tradition and prophecy as decreed to overthrow the Mexican power. Cortez artfully endeavored to frame his reply so as to encourage this illusion. He expatiated at great length upon the wealth and the resistless power of the emperor whom he served. "My master wishes," said he, "to alter certain laws and customs in this kingdom, and particularly to present to you a religion far superior to the bloody creed of Mexico." He then, with great earnestness, unfolded to the respectful monarch the principal doctrines of Christianity—the one living and true God—the advent of the Savior, his atonement, and salvation through faith in him—the rites of baptism and of the Lord's Supper—the eternal rewards of the righteous, and the unending woes of the wicked. To these remarks Cortez added an indignant remonstrance against the abomination of human sacrifices, and of eating the flesh of the wretched victims. By way of application to this sermon, which was truthful in its main sentiments, and unquestionably sincere, this most singular of missionaries called out the artillery. We would not speak lightly of sacred things in stating the fact that Cortez considered gunpowder as one of the most important of the means of grace. He judged that the thunder of his cannon, reverberating through the streets of the astounded capital, would exert a salutary influence upon the minds of the natives, and produce that pliancy of spirit, that child-like humility, so essential both to voluntary and involuntary conversion. The most important truth and the most revolting falsehood here bewilderingly meet and blend.

The sun had now gone down, and the short twilight was fading away into the darkness of the night, when, at a given signal, every cannon was discharged. The awful roar rolled through the streets of the metropolis, and froze the hearts of the people with terror. Were these strange beings, they inquired among themselves, who thus wielded the heaviest thunders of heaven, gods or demons? Volley after volley, in appalling peals, burst from the city, and resounded over the silent lake. Dense volumes of suffocating smoke, scarcely moved by the tranquil air, settled down upon the streets. Silence ensued. The voice of Cortez had been heard in tones never to be forgotten. The stars came out in the serene sky, and a brilliant tropical night enveloped in its folds the fearless Spaniard and the trembling Mexican.

It was the night of the 8th of November. But seven months had elapsed since the Spaniards landed in the country. The whole Spanish force, exclusive of the natives whom they had induced to join them, consisted of but four hundred and fifty men. They were now two hundred miles from the coast, in the very heart of an empire numbering many millions, and by sagacity, courage, and cruelty, they had succeeded in bringing both monarch and people into almost entire submission to their sway. The genius of romance can narrate few tales more marvelous.

Chapter VII.

Cortez then expressed the wish that he might be conducted to the great pyramidal temple, which reared its lofty structure from the heart of the city. The summit of the pyramid was an extended plain, where several hundred priests could officiate in sacrifice. The corners of the area were ornamented with towers. One hundred and fourteen steps led to the summit of the temple. Several large altars stood here, besmeared with the blood of human sacrifices, and there was also a hideous image of a dragon polluted with gore.

From this towering eminence the whole adjacent country lay spread out before the eye of Cortez in surpassing loveliness. Gardens, groves, villages, waving fields of grain, and the wide expanse of the placid lakes, covered with boats gliding rapidly over the mirrored waters, presented a scene of beauty which excited the enthusiasm of Cortez to the highest pitch. They then entered the sanctuaries of the temple, where human hearts were smoking, and almost throbbing, upon the altars before the revolting images of their gods. On the summit of the temple there was an enormous drum or gong, which was struck when the miserable victim was shrieking beneath the knife of sacrifice. Its doleful tones, it was said, floating over the still waters of the lake, could be heard at the distance of many miles.

From these sickening scenes Cortez turned away in disgust, and exclaimed indignantly to Montezuma,

"How can you, wise and powerful as you are, put trust in such representatives of the devil? Why do you allow your people to be butchered before these abominable idols? Let me place here the cross, and the image of the blessed Virgin and of her Son, and the influence of these detestable idols will soon vanish."

Montezuma, shocked by words which he deemed so blasphemous, and dreading the swift vengeance of the gods, hurried his irreverent guest away.

"Go," said he, "go hence, I entreat you, while I remain to appease, if possible, the wrath of the gods whom you have so dreadfully provoked."

But these scenes aroused anew the religious zeal of Cortez and his companions. As they returned to their lodgings, they immediately converted one of the halls of their residence into a Christian chapel. Here the rites of the Roman Catholic Church were introduced, and the whole army of Cortez, with soldierly devotion, attended mass every day. Good Father Olmedo, with perhaps a clouded intellect, but with that recognition of the universal brotherhood of man which sincere piety ever confers, prayed fervently for God's blessing upon his frail children of every name and nation.

The Spaniards estimated the population of the city at about five hundred thousand. The streets were very regularly laid out at right angles. Many of them were wide, and lined with shade-trees. The houses of the common people were small but comfortable cottages, built of reeds or of bricks baked in the sun. The dwellings of the nobles and of the more wealthy inhabitants were strongly-built mansions of stone, very extensive on the ground floor, though generally but one story high. They were inclosed in gardens blooming with flowers. Fountains of cool water, conveyed through earthen pipes, played in the court-yards. The police regulations were unsurpassed by those of any city in Europe. A thousand persons were continually employed in sweeping and watering the streets. So clean were the well-cemented pavements kept, that "a man could walk through the streets," says one of the Spanish historians, "with as little danger of soiling his feet as his hands."

Day after day was passed in the interchange of visits, and in the careful examination by Cortez of the strength and the resources of the city. He had now been a week in the capital, and the question naturally arose, What is next to be done? He was, indeed, perplexed to decide this question. Montezuma treated him with such extraordinary hospitality, supplying all his wants, and leaving him at perfect liberty, that it was difficult for one, who laid any claim whatever to a conscience, to find occasion to pick a quarrel. To remain inactive, merely enjoying the luxury of a most hospitable entertainment, was not only accomplishing nothing, but was also enervating the army. It was also to be apprehended that the Mexicans would gradually regain their courage as they counted the small number of the invaders, and fall upon them with resistless power.

The Tlascalans, who had rioted in blood at Cholula, seemed anxious for a renewal of that scene of awful butchery in the streets of Mexico. They assured Cortez that he had every thing to fear from the treachery of Montezuma; that he had lured them into the city but to inclose them in a trap; that the drawbridges of the causeways need but be removed, and escape for the Spaniards would be impossible. They assured him that the Mexican priests had counseled Montezuma, in the name of the gods, to admit the strangers into the capital that he might cut them off at a blow. It was obvious, even to the meanest soldier, that all this might be true, and that they were in reality in a trap from which it would be exceedingly difficult to extricate themselves, should the Mexicans manifest any resolute hostility.

On the east the island city had no connection with the main land, and could only be approached over the broad waters of the lake by canoes. On the west the city was entered by an artificial causeway, built of earth and stone, a mile and a half in length, and but thirty feet in breadth. A similar causeway on the northwest, three miles long, connected the city with the main land. There was another causeway on the south, six miles long. There were many openings along these causeways, through which the waters of the lake flowed unimpeded. These openings were bridged over by means of timber. The destruction of these bridges, which might be accomplished at any hour, would render an escape for the Spaniards almost impossible.

In this dilemma, the bold Spaniard adopted the audacious yet characteristic plan of seizing Montezuma, who was regarded with almost religious adoration by his subjects, and holding him as a hostage. The following occurrence furnished Cortez with a plausible pretext to pick a quarrel.

We have before mentioned that the Totonacs, wishing to escape from the subjection of the Mexicans, had acknowledged themselves vassals of the King of Spain. When the officers of Montezuma attempted, as usual, to collect the taxes, the Totonacs refused payment. Force was resorted to, and a conflict arose. The colony at Vera Cruz immediately sent some soldiers to aid their allies, headed by Escalente, the commander of the Spanish garrison. In the engagement which ensued, Escalente and seven of his men were mortally wounded, one horse was killed, and one Spaniard taken captive, who soon, however, died of his wounds. Still the Spaniards, with their Totonac allies, were victorious, and repelled the Mexicans with much slaughter. The vanquished party cut off the head of their unfortunate prisoner, and carried it in triumph to several cities, to show that their foes were not invulnerable.

With alacrity Cortez availed himself of this event. He immediately repaired to the palace of Montezuma, and, with bitter reproaches, accused him of treacherously ordering an assault upon the Spaniards who had been left at Vera Cruz. Sternly the pitiless Spaniard demanded reparation for the loss, and atonement for the insult. Montezuma, confounded at this unexpected accusation, earnestly declared that the order had not been issued by him, but that the distant officer had acted on his own responsibility, without consulting the sovereign. Ungenerously he added that, in proof of his innocence, he would immediately command the offending officer, Qualpopoca, and his accomplices, to be brought prisoners to Mexico, and to be delivered to Cortez for any punishment which the Spaniards might decree.

Cortez now feigned a relenting mood, and declared that he could not himself doubt the word of the emperor, but that something more was requisite to appease the rage of his followers. "Nothing," said he, "can satisfy them of your sincerity and of your honorable intentions, unless you will leave your palace, and take up your abode in the Spanish quarters. This will pacify my men, and they will honor you there as becomes a great monarch."

When Marina interpreted this strange proposal, Montezuma was for a moment so struck with amazement as to be almost bereft of speech. His cheek was flushed with shame and rage, and then the hectic glow passed away into deadly paleness. His ancient spirit was for a moment revived, and he exclaimed, indignantly,

"When did ever a monarch suffer himself to be tamely led to a prison? Even were I willing to debase myself in so vile a manner, would not my people immediately arm themselves to set me free?"

One of the impetuous attendants of Cortez, as the altercation continued, exclaimed, grasping his sword,

"Why waste time in vain? Let us either seize him instantly or stab him to the heart."

Montezuma, though he did not understand his words, observed the threatening voice and the fierce gesture, and, turning to the amiable interpretress, Marina, inquired what he said.

"Sire," she replied, with her characteristic mildness and tact, "as your subject, I desire your happiness; but as the confidante of those men, I know their secrets, and am acquainted with their character. If you yield to their wishes, you will be treated with all the honor due to your royal person; but if you persist in your refusal, your life will be in danger."

Montezuma, reading in these events, as he supposed, but the decrees of fate, now yielded. He called his officers, and informed them of his decision. Though they were plunged into utter consternation by the intelligence, they did not venture to question his will. The imperial palanquin was brought, and the humiliated emperor was conveyed, followed by a mourning crowd, to the Spanish quarters. Montezuma endeavored to appease them, and to prevent any act of violence, by assuring the people that it was his own pleasure to go and reside with his friends. He was now so thoroughly convinced of the resistless power of the Spaniards, and that he was swept along by the decrees of fate, that he dreaded any movement of resistance on the part of his people.[E]

He was magnificently imprisoned. His own servants were permitted to attend him, and he continued to administer the government as if he had been in his own palace. All the forms of courtly etiquette were scrupulously observed in approaching his person. Ostensibly to confer upon him greater honor, a body-guard of stern Spanish veterans was appointed for his protection. This body-guard, with all external demonstrations of obsequiousness, watched him by night and by day, rendering escape impossible.