The little army set out from Zempoala August 16, 1519. Nothing of consequence marked the first day’s march. Their way led through the territory of their ally, the cacique. They met with a friendly reception and hospitable treatment. At last they came to the borders of the mountainous country of Tlaxcala.[6] The natives of this region surpassed all the other Americans in extraordinary courage and especially in their love of freedom. They had bravely thrown off the Mexican yoke and for a long time maintained a republic. The country sent its representatives to Tlaxcala, the capital, and these representatives, or chiefs, in assembly, constituted the tribal council and law-making power of the whole nation. Their form of government was also an aristocratic one. Pride and love of liberty, courage and a warlike disposition were the chief characteristics of this small but formidable people. Montezuma had vainly tried to subdue them and to induce bold and imperious spirits among them to usurp authority. They stoutly maintained liberty, that noblest blessing of humanity, against every assault, and remained invincible. Cortes would have rejoiced to secure such a people for his allies and decided therefore, as soon as he reached their borders, to send a friendly embassy, after the Indian manner, accompanied with all the customary ceremony.
Four of the leading Zempoalans were selected for this duty, and Marina undertook to deliver a stately address to the Tlaxcalans, which she had to learn by heart. They were arrayed in the following manner: They put on long cloaks of a woollen material. Upon the left arm they carried a great shell in place of a shield, and in the right hand an arrow with white feathers, the tip of which was bent downward. This was a symbol of friendliness. An arrow with red feathers would have meant war. Thus equipped, they set out without fear, confident no harm would come to them, but at the same time taking the precaution not to leave the highroad, because there alone would their dress protect them.
As soon as the four messengers reached Tlaxcala they were conducted to a building specially fitted up with everything necessary for an audience. On the following day they were requested by the Council, which was in session, to deliver their message. The assembled members, on account of their age, sat upon low seats, made of some rare wood. With the utmost reverence, manifested by covering their heads with their cloaks, the messengers advanced, holding their arrows aloft, and the councillors rose slightly from their seats. They then bowed in their peculiar manner and with measured steps advanced to the centre of the apartment and sank upon their knees, and with downcast eyes awaited permission to speak. When this had been granted, they sat cross-legged and Marina began her address:
“Noble republic! Brave and mighty people! Your friends and allies, the caciques of Zempoala and the mountains, send you greeting and wish for you rich harvests and the downfall of your enemies. Next they send you word that an extraordinary people have come to our country from the sunrise land. They seem more like gods than men. They have come across the sea in great palaces and carry in their hands for weapons the thunder and lightning of heaven. According to their statements they are servants of a higher God than ours, who cannot endure tyranny or human sacrifice. Their leader is the messenger of a very mighty monarch, who is bound by the dictates of his religion to redress the grievances and persecutions we have suffered from Montezuma. This leader has freed us already. It is now necessary that he should make his way through your country to Mexico, and he wishes to know in what manner this tyrant has persecuted you so that he may defend your rights, as well as his own, and settle other matters connected with his journey. He comes also with friendly intentions and desires nothing more from you than a free passage through your country. You may be sure he seeks only your own advantage, that his weapons are the instruments of justice, and that those who bear them are by nature peace-loving and will never use their strength except against those who first offend or attack them.”
At the conclusion of the address the messengers rose to their knees, made a low bow in that posture, reseated themselves cross-legged, and awaited an answer. The councillors replied at first in an informal way that they were grateful for the information brought to them. They would consider Cortes’ request and give a definite answer later. Thereupon they dismissed the messengers and began the consideration. Opinions were divided. Some were for peace, others for war. The leader of the war party was Xikotenkatl, a young, bold, impetuous man, who was only too glad of an opportunity to draw his sword. His party was in the majority and it was decided that the messengers should be detained upon various pretences, while they were making the necessary war preparations. Eight days thus passed, and at last Cortes as well as his allies began to have misgivings as to the cause of the delay. It was finally decided to move forward and ascertain what had become of the messengers and their mission. The Spaniards had not gone far before they encountered a troop of armed natives who offered a stubborn resistance. A battle ensued which ended disastrously for the natives, while the Spaniards, protected by their armor, received only a few trifling wounds, though the enemy outnumbered them ten to one.
After this first victory Cortes continued advancing inland, and on the following day had the satisfaction of seeing two of his messengers approaching in the company of some Tlaxcalans. The latter placed the responsibility for the attack of the day before upon their allies, the Otomis, who had begun hostilities upon their own account and had been punished by the loss of their bravest leader. After this brief apology they took themselves off without making any definite statement of their intentions. In the meantime their mysterious conduct was soon explained, for, on the next day, as the Spaniards advanced nearer Tlaxcala, the other two messengers met them in a mournful plight. They fell at Cortes’ feet weeping, embraced his knees, and with piteous gestures affirmed that the treacherous Tlaxcalans had violated the sacred right of nations and had bound them with chains to be sacrificed to their deities. In the meantime they had succeeded in freeing themselves in the night, but they were confident that the Tlaxcalans were planning to sacrifice the entire Spanish army. Cortes now knew what to expect and resolved to face the danger, however great it might be. He advanced at once and before long saw a countless multitude of armed Tlaxcalans and their auxiliaries with the fierce Xikotenkatl at their head. The battle which ensued was a savage one, and a slight disaster nearly involved the destruction of Cortes’ whole force. A Spanish cavalryman dashed so far into the dense ranks of the enemy that he was surrounded on all sides. He received several wounds, and his horse was pierced so often that it fell dead. The Indians cut off the animal’s head, stuck it upon a spear, and carried it about triumphantly so that all might see the monster was not invulnerable, as they had believed, but was really dead.
This event inspired the Indians with indescribable courage, and they now fought with a fury which the Spaniards could no longer withstand. At the instant when their utter destruction seemed inevitable, to their great astonishment the fierce battle cries of the natives suddenly ceased, and hostilities came to an end. They heard the horns sounding for retreat and beheld the whole great army of the enemy quietly withdrawing for some mysterious reason. This was done, the prisoners afterward stated, because their foremost people had fallen, and their places could not be filled at once. Meanwhile they regarded the horse’s head as their greatest trophy. Xikotenkatl carried it off himself and sent it to the Council.
Cortes thereupon intrenched himself in a convenient place and attempted once more to induce the Tlaxcalans to come to a peaceful agreement. He despatched some of the prisoners to make offers of peace as well as to warn them of the dreadful consequences they might expect in case they continued hostilities. Xikotenkatl was so furious at his offers that he mutilated the messengers shamefully and drove them back to the Spanish camp to notify the general that he would appear the next morning with a countless force, capture his entire army, and sacrifice it to his deities. The news was not very consoling, but it was accompanied by something that considerably sweetened its bitterness. Xikotenkatl at the same time sent three hundred Indian fowls and a great quantity of other provisions so as to get the enemy in good condition before he slaughtered them. The Spaniards laughed at his bombastic folly and relished the gifts which gave them fresh strength for the morrow’s struggle. Xikotenkatl was as good as his word. He appeared at daybreak with a multitude of warriors, and the battle began anew with extraordinary fury on both sides. The issue for a long time seemed in doubt, but at last European skill prevailed in spite of the hordes of the enemy and their desperate courage. The Tlaxcalans gave way, and the Spaniards held the field.
But even this third defeat failed completely to daunt these warlike people. They were now more than ever convinced that the Europeans, all and every one of them, were wizards who could not be vanquished in the usual way and that the magic of their enemies must be thwarted by the arts of their own magicians. They had some priestly impostors who told them that with their spells they could see into the future and perform divers feats surpassing human power. They were called into Council and offered the following advice: The Spaniards are the Children of the Sun. By day their mother strengthens them with her rays and they are invincible. But at night, when the sun loses her maternal influence, their superhuman power disappears and they are no stronger than ordinary beings.
The superstitious Tlaxcalans did not doubt the truth of this for an instant and hastened to avail themselves of the discovery by making a night attack. But Cortes was too watchful and far-sighted to be surprised by such an enemy. He stationed his outposts carefully so that he might have instant intelligence of their moves and be prepared to meet them. When the Tlaxcalans made their attack they found the Spaniards already under arms and although they fought desperately they were at last driven back with great loss. These poor people were now in a state of utter perplexity. They were convinced the Spaniards were super-human, else, how was it that in all the battles they lost thousands and the Spaniards not a single man?
But the problem which troubled them most was the goodness or badness of their own divinities. The first thing which impressed itself upon them was the necessity of getting rid of their deceitful sorcerers and doing away with human sacrifice. Their next step was to send an imposing delegation to pray for peace. It was composed of their most distinguished people, who went to the Spanish camp in their ceremonial dresses, adorned with white feathers, the symbol of peace, and at a distance made signs of their extreme reverence. From time to time they stopped and touched first the earth and then their lips. This ceremony was repeated several times until they reached the intrenchments, before which they burned incense and repeated the signs of reverence already described. Cortes received them with a haughty dignity, in order to impress them with dread, and ordered them to speak. They obeyed, and their first remarkable utterance was this:
“Be you cruel and vengeful divinities, we deliver to you these five slaves that you may drink their blood and eat of their flesh. Be you gentle gods, we give you an offering of incense and white feathers. Be you men, we offer you meat and bread and fruits for your nourishment.”
They further declared that they had come to ask forgiveness for the past hostility of their people and at the same time to supplicate for peace. Cortes, still retaining his haughty demeanor, bitterly reproached them for their contemptuous rejection of his friendly advances, but added that he was ready to forget the past if they, from that time forward, would remain quiet and make compensation for the offences they had committed. With these words he dismissed them. As soon as his answer was taken to Tlaxcala, the Council issued a general order to all the people thereabout that they should supply the camp of these wonderful strangers with subsistence and refrain from taking pay for it. The order was obeyed with a willingness and promptness which surprised the Spaniards. Two days later a great and imposing procession was seen approaching the camp from Tlaxcala. The attire of the natives showed it was peaceful of intention and Cortes ordered it to be received without the slightest hint of distrust.
At the head of this delegation was the brave Xikotenkatl, his attendants being fifty of the foremost of the people in splendid attire. He wore a long, white, military cloak which was richly adorned with feathers and precious stones. He was tall and slender, active and nervous, and his personal appearance indicated dignity and courage. After making obeisance to the Spanish commander in the fashion of the country, he seated himself in the most informal manner, without even asking permission, and declared in a manly way that he was alone responsible for the hostilities which had occurred, because he had supposed that the Spaniards were supporting Montezuma, his enemy. He surrendered himself willingly, therefore, into the hands of his conqueror, and would take upon himself all the responsibility for his acts, and asked forgiveness, and would agree to maintain peace in the name of the Council, the nobility, and the people. The city of Tlaxcala stood ready to receive Cortes and his whole army and entertain them hospitably. Cortes was delighted with the frank, bold, open-hearted manner of the young warrior and could not help expressing his esteem for him. But he did not refrain from reproaching him for the bitter opposition he had made, ending with the assurance that in a few days he would accept the invitation to go to Tlaxcala.
In the meantime messengers from Montezuma arrived with new gifts and with fresh protests against Cortes’ determination to go to Mexico. Their principal object, however, was to prevent Cortes from making an alliance with the Tlaxcalans. To this end they told dreadful stories of the faithlessness of that people. Cortes, however, did not heed their warnings, being confident he had just as little reason to fear their secret plans as open hostility in the field. The Tlaxcalans were much disturbed because Cortes did not come to them immediately, and concluded that Montezuma’s messengers had prejudiced him against them. To remove all grounds for suspicion the entire Council decided to go to the camp and offer themselves as hostages. The procession moved with great stateliness. All were arrayed in white garments of peace, and each one of the officials was borne in a kind of litter. The most conspicuous person in this dignified company was Xikotenkatl’s father, a venerable old man, who was blind but still intellectually vigorous. He seated himself next to Cortes, embraced him with a noble kind of frankness, and touched his face and body to get some idea of his appearance. The speech which he made is so impressive and beautiful that it merits preservation as a sample of manly eloquence. He spoke as follows:
“Magnanimous General! Whether you are of the race of the immortals or not, you have the high Council of Tlaxcala in your power, and it gives you herewith the great symbols of its obedience. We have no desire to excuse the faults of our nation, but only express the hope that our sincerity will mitigate your anger. We have not only abandoned our purpose of making war upon you, but we have also decided to pray for peace. We know that Montezuma is seeking to secure you as an ally. But if you listen to him you must remember he is our enemy. We do not ask you to assist us against him. We are strong enough to defend ourselves, but it will grieve us if you believe his promises, for we know his deceitfulness and, although I am blind, I see a sure light revealing to me the disaster which will overtake you. You will have peace with us if Montezuma does not prevent it. Why should he restrain you? Why should you not grant our prayer? Why will you not honor our city with your presence? We are fully resolved either to win your friendship and confidence or to leave our freedom in your hands. Choose now which you prefer, for no middle course is of any avail to us. We must either be your good friends or your bondmen.”
Who could resist such an appeal from such an old man? Cortes could not. He replied that he would grant their every wish. He asked only that they should furnish him people to carry the baggage and heavy ammunition. On the following morning six hundred burden bearers appeared who contested for the honor of carrying the heaviest loads. The entrance of the Spaniards into Tlaxcala resembled a triumph. The streets were filled with great multitudes. There was such shouting and jubilation that one could not hear himself speak. Young maidens covered the strangers with flowers. The priests appeared in their ceremonial robes and burned incense. The entire Council and the leaders of the people met them and welcomed them. Everywhere confidence, peace, and harmony prevailed. A fitting residence was ready for their sacred guest, whom they called Teules, or divinity. Cortes, as soon as he occupied it, stationed sentinels at all the approaches. This troubled the Tlaxcalans, who regarded it as a sign of distrust, but when they were informed that this was the custom of European soldiers, even in times of peace, they were no longer alarmed, and Xikotenkatl himself introduced the practice in his own army. Cortes recognized more and more the great advantage the friendship of this martial nation would be to him. He therefore ordered his men to treat them in a just and friendly manner, and he himself adopted every means in his power to strengthen the confidence and respect he had already gained.
The Spaniards rested a little in Tlaxcala after their exertions and their life among the natives was very peaceable. Several daughters of caciques married prominent Spanish officers, and from these unions distinguished Spanish noblemen have sprung. The caciques did not offer their daughters in marriage to Cortes, for they thought he was married to Marina, or Malinace, he appeared so often in her company.
But days of rest must have an end. Cortes began preparations for the advance to Mexico with his army and an auxiliary force of six thousand brave Tlaxcalans. While thus engaged, another delegation from Montezuma appeared. They brought costly gifts upon golden platters of beautiful workmanship, and richly embroidered fabrics of linen and feather work. The messengers spoke timidly and hesitatingly. They begged Cortes not to enter into an alliance with the low and barbarous Tlaxcalans, but to go alone with his army to Cholula,[7] as the Emperor had given orders he should be fitly received there and his soldiers properly cared for. The Tlaxcalans regarded this invitation with suspicion. They were sure that Montezuma meditated treachery and begged Cortes not to expose himself to the danger awaiting him at Cholula. Cortes thanked his Indian friends for their solicitude, but assured them that European soldiers were not in the habit of avoiding any danger, however great it might be. He broke camp at once and marched to Cholula.
The reception he met was unusually friendly and respectful. The Tlaxcalan auxiliaries, being sworn enemies of the Cholulans, were not allowed to enter the city and were obliged to occupy a convenient spot outside the walls. They had already learned from their European friends how to intrench themselves, and they at once put their knowledge into practice. After a few days of rest, events gradually occurred which confirmed the suspicions of the Tlaxcalans. Provisions were supplied sparingly, the authorities displayed more coolness, and Montezuma’s representatives had frequent interviews with them. Two Tlaxcalans shortly appeared, who had stolen into the city in disguise and informed Cortes they had seen a multitude of women and children fleeing by night to adjacent places and that they learned from them that six young children had been sacrificed in a principal temple,—a custom always observed when any hostile movement was to be undertaken. They advised him, therefore, to be on his guard against attack. While Cortes was now using the utmost watchfulness to discover the secret purposes of the Cholulans, chance suddenly revealed the whole matter. A prominent Cholulan woman had conceived an unusual attachment for Marina, the interpreter. She was anxious to save her new friend from the universal massacre, which had been planned, and told her confidentially of the bloody designs of her people so that she might escape before it was too late. Marina, who was both shrewd and heartily devoted to the Spaniards, pretended she would follow the warnings of the Indian woman and induced her to disclose the whole plot without reserve. She learned that upon the day fixed for the massacre a force of Mexican soldiers would be concealed in the neighborhood of Cholula, for the purpose of rushing in at the appointed time, obstructing the streets by filling them with holes, lightly covered, into which horses would stumble and fall, and conveying great quantities of stones and other missiles to the roofs of houses and temples to be showered down upon the Spaniards, thus making their destruction inevitable.
Marina hastened to bring the news to her friend Cortes and the latter lost no time in devising means to prevent the disaster which threatened him. His first step was to persuade the Indian woman and two high priests by threats and bribes to make a full confession of the plot. Then he decided to set such an example of revenge that Montezuma and his followers would never again engage in such an undertaking. To effect this, he drew up his people and the Zempoalans in battle order in the courtyard of the large building which had been assigned him as quarters. The Tlaxcalans were instructed to enter the city when they heard the first shot and under various pretences decoy the principal Cholulan leaders to the Spanish quarters where they would be arrested. Everything being arranged, Cortes gave the signal for attack and the massacre began.
The Spaniards and Zempoalans advanced, and the Tlaxcalans at the same time entered the city. Furiously they swept through the streets from all sides and countless corpses marked the course of the destroyers. The native leaders stood as if thunderstruck and hardly dared to raise their trembling hands in defence. The Mexican force advanced to protect them, but it was easily overcome. To escape the sword, they and many of the natives sought shelter in a temple. Cortes led his men there in close ranks and loudly shouted that all who would come out and surrender in good faith should be spared. Only one person availed himself of the offer, the rest preferring apparently to die rather than submit. Cortes then proceeded to the commission of a deed from which we turn our eyes with pity and horror and at which humanity will always shudder. He fired the temple, and the multitude of unfortunates in it were victims of the flames. This horrible massacre went on two whole days—two days of rapine, fire, and slaughter, but women and children were spared by Cortes’ order. At last revenge seemed complete, the lust of plunder was satiated, and the bloody deed ended. The leaders, who had been made prisoners, were released. Cortes upbraided them for their treachery which had made the massacre necessary, and ordered them to recall the fugitive natives and restore the former order. Universal pardon was proclaimed and an idolatrous respect for the Spaniards and fear of their terrible power soon took possession of the Cholulans who had survived. In a few days the devastated city was once more crowded with natives, humbly submissive to the murderers of their kindred and destroyers of their temple.
Fourteen days had hardly passed since the entrance of the Spaniards into Cholula before Cortes decided to resume his march to the capital, without further loss of time. The army set out. Cortes was active at every spot where his presence was necessary, now in the advance, now in the rear, encouraging the weak, urging on the laggards, and striving to inspire each one with the enthusiasm he himself felt. He never failed to make the rounds at night to see if every one was at his post. Upon one occasion his watchfulness came near proving fatal. He came too near a sentinel who did not recognize him in the darkness and aimed his cross-bow at him. His quick outcry of the watchword for the night alone saved him.
The army advanced vigorously, and the farther it penetrated the country, the more reason Cortes had to expect a successful issue to his undertaking. Everywhere he heard complaints of Montezuma’s tyranny and cruelty. Everywhere he found governors ready to shake off his yoke. The Spaniards soon left the pleasant, level country, their way leading through the mountainous region, which divides the great tablelands of Mexico and Puebla.[8] The higher they ascended, the sharper and more piercing grew the air, and the wind which swept down the frozen mountain sides made the soldiers shiver, even in their thick woollen uniforms, and benumbed the limbs of men and horses. Their road led them between two of the highest mountains of the North American continent, Popocatepetl,[9] or “Smoking Mountain,” and Iztaccihuatl,[10] or the “White Lady.” The natives held the former mountain sacred to their divinities and for this reason had never made an attempt to ascend it, but the mysterious dread with which the place was invested and the unconquerable love of adventure made some of the Spanish knights eager to accomplish a feat which the natives considered impossible and involving the lives of those who attempted it. Cortes encouraged them for he was anxious to convince the Indians that his followers never flinched from any danger. A captain, Ordaz by name, nine Spaniards, and some of the Tlaxcalans, who had plucked up courage by this time, undertook the ascent. After overcoming many obstacles and dangers, they reached the height of thirteen thousand feet. At this point the Indians, alarmed by a strange subterranean rumbling of the volcano, would go no farther. The Europeans, however, advanced to the vicinity of the crater, but the smoke, sparks, and ashes from the burning interior forced them to return.
The army continued its march among hills and through ravines. After great exertions a sight met their eyes which compensated them for their trials and filled them all with delight. A vast and beautiful country lay before them, and in the midst of it a lake, which looked like the sea. Along this lake were many stately cities and towns, and in their midst the queen of them all, the far-away glistening capital, splendid with its many temples and towers.[11] They had reached the valley of Mexico, or Tenochtitlan,[12] as the natives call it. At first view of this magnificent region the astonished Europeans stood as if uncertain whether they were awake or dreaming. All their past dangers disappeared like mists vanishing before the sun, and they were ready now for anything that might happen. Cortes observed their enthusiasm with delight and cautiously advanced along the shore of the lake toward the stately capital.
Suddenly a great crowd of people appeared coming from the capital toward them. There were over a thousand, evidently persons of distinction as they wore elegant cloaks and tufts of feathers. They approached the Spanish army in respectful stillness, and each of them displayed his deepest reverence for the general, as they informed him that Montezuma himself was drawing near. The vanguard of the capital next appeared, two hundred in number, uniformly costumed and decorated with feathers. These came barefooted in pairs, and, as soon as they reached the head of the Spanish army, stationed themselves so as to afford a view of the glistening ranks of court attendants in whose midst Montezuma[13] himself was conspicuous in a golden sedan chair. Four of the leading personages of the Empire bore it upon their shoulders. Others held a beautifully constructed canopy over him, which seemed to be made of some fine material embroidered with silver and adorned with green feathers. In advance of this brilliant procession went three magisterial persons with golden staves which they raised ceremoniously from time to time. At this signal all prostrated themselves and covered their faces as if they were unworthy to look upon the person of their exalted monarch.
As soon as the procession was sufficiently near, Cortes dismounted from his horse and hastened to pay his respects to the monarch. The latter at the same time stepped from his chair and rested, leaning upon the shoulders of two princes, then advanced with slow and stately stride to meet the dreaded stranger, walking upon carpets which his followers laid down so that his feet should not touch the ground. Cortes met him cordially and greeted him with a low bow after the European manner. Montezuma replied to the greeting with an obeisance which in his country was significant of the highest respect. He kissed his own hand and then touched the ground with it. This condescension from the proudest of monarchs, who was accustomed to greet even the images of his divinities with a careless nod of the head, greatly astonished the Mexicans and induced the conviction that these strangers were divine and not human beings. The word “Teules” (gods) was constantly on their lips. Cortes wore over his armor a necklace set with paste stones which he intended to give the Emperor. As soon as the ceremony of greeting was over, he took this false ornament and hung it about the neck of Montezuma. The Emperor appeared pleased at this attention and ordered one of his own costly ornaments to be brought—a necklace of very rare shells, from each of which on both sides depended four golden crabs. He handed this decoration to his guest, which still further increased the astonishment of his people.
Montezuma appeared to be about forty years of age. He was of medium size and rather thin. He had a very majestic appearance, a pleasing countenance, and in color was not so brownish yellow as the rest of the Mexicans. He wore a long cloak of fine woollen stuff which was literally covered with ornaments, pearls, and gems. A golden crown, much resembling a bishop’s mitre, comprised his headdress. His shoes were made of solid gold plates fastened with straps and gold buckles.
MEETING OF CORTES AND MONTEZUMA
The entry was now made with his guest. The city was large and populous. According to the Spanish historians it had twenty thousand flat houses or adobes and a multitude of temples and palaces which in size and splendor exceeded anything ever seen before in the New World. One of the largest of these so-called palaces was assigned to Cortes as his headquarters, and Montezuma accompanied him there. As soon as they arrived he left, in order to have time for rest, as he said, and, as he was going away, begged Cortes to make himself as much at home as if he were among his own brethren.
Cortes stationed sentinels as usual and placed cannon at all the approaches to the palace and ordered his officers and soldiers not to relax their vigilance.
On the evening of the same day Montezuma and his brilliant retinue returned to make the first visit to their much honored guest. As soon as Cortes was notified of his approach, he went to the courtyard, received him with a low bow, and conducted him to his apartment. The Mexican Emperor seated himself familiarly and requested the general to be seated also. His attendants ranged themselves at the side of the room and the Spaniards did the same. Marina, the interpreter, was stationed near by, and the Emperor began a ceremonious address, in which he made a strenuous effort to remove any prejudice which Cortes might entertain against him, growing out of harmful reports. “Some have said,” he stated, “that I belong to the immortal gods, others have striven to calumniate me, representing me as a haughty and cruel tyrant. The first of these reports is as false as the other. The refutation of the one will expose the falsity of the other.” With these words, he bared his arm and requested Cortes to convince himself by sight and touch that he was made of flesh and blood like other men—a fact of which Cortes had no doubt. After this he continued his assurances that the reports of his tyranny, with which his enemies had sought to prejudice Cortes against him, were unfounded. After these preliminaries he expressed his sentiments as to the arrival of the Spaniards and the object of their visit in the following words:
“We know from traditions which have come down to us from old times that our ancestors came from a distant region and conquered those countries which are to-day subject to my authority. Their leader was the great Quetzalcoatl,[14] who, after he had established our Empire, left this part of the world again to take possession of other regions toward the east. But he prophesied that some time a people descended from him would come to us and change our laws and whole system of government. Now I see from all that has been told of your coming here, and from what I myself have observed, that you are the descendants of that great ancestor. For this reason I have received you not as strangers but as kindred, and declare to you that we recognize you as the representative of the great Eastern ruler and that your authority will not be disputed by me or my people.”
Cortes rejoiced at this news which was favorable to his intentions. He confirmed the superstitious Montezuma in his belief and satisfied him that the prophecy of the great Quetzalcoatl had been fulfilled and that he and his Spaniards were his descendants. “In the meantime,” he added, “while it is evident that the exalted monarch of the East, whose most humble servant I have the honor to be, has a just claim upon all your countries, yet he is too far away personally to assert his claim. He only desires of you and your people that you shall abandon your errors and accept the true faith which he has commissioned me to announce. You are living under a false religion. You are worshipping senseless blocks, made by your own hands. There is but one true God, and He has created and governs everything that is. This one Being, who is without beginning and without end, has made out of nothing the whole universe, the flaming sun which shines upon all, the earth and all that is in it, and the first man, from whom we are all descended. We are all obliged to recognize the First Cause of all things, and for that reason the King, my master, invites you, great Emperor, and all your people to accept these sentiments and maintain affectionate and brotherly relations with him. He desires you to enter into a friendly alliance which will always be of great advantage to you.”
Montezuma was visibly excited by Cortes’ address. It was so intolerable to hear his deities insulted that it was with difficulty he could restrain his impatience until Cortes ended. Then he arose somewhat hastily and replied that while he gratefully accepted the offer of friendly relations with a prince descended from Quetzalcoatl, these relations might be maintained without giving up his own deities for the God whom the Spaniards worshipped. With these words he closed the interview and, after bestowing some costly gifts, made his way back to his palace.
On the next day, accompanied by his leading officers, Cortes went with much ceremony for another interview with the Emperor. This one lasted longer than the first. Montezuma asked a hundred questions about the European mode of life, habits, and customs, but Cortes, who had not these matters so much at heart as the work of conversion, seized every opportunity to give the conversation a religious turn, and specially inveighed against the cruel custom of human sacrifices. At the close of the interview Montezuma exhibited to his guests the splendors of the temples. He conducted them to the largest of these, and the priests offered no objection to their admission upon condition that nothing unseemly should be done. Montezuma himself exhibited and explained everything to them. He told the names of the deities, the highest of which was called Bitzliputzli, and described the worship which was paid to each of them. As these heathenish rites were inexpressibly shocking, Cortes asked permission to place the Cross of Christ in the temple, thinking that it would soon convince them that their deities were powerless. Montezuma listened to the proposal with the greatest displeasure, and the priests with amazement. The Emperor soon recovered his composure, however, and merely replied that he had expected his guests would show the same respect for the place where they were that they had shown to him. With these words he passed out, telling the Spaniards they were at liberty to repair to their own quarters, but as for himself he would remain to ask pardon of his deities for his extraordinary patience.
The natives of Mexico professed a horrible religion, of which human sacrifice was the principal feature. They often made war upon neighboring people for no other purpose than to capture prisoners to be slaughtered upon their altars and afterward eaten. During battle they spared the lives of their enemies, saving them for a more terrible death by the knives of the priests. The number of these unfortunate victims sometimes reached thousands in a single day. Some historians have placed it as high as twenty-five thousand. If the nation were at peace for a long time and no prisoners were available for offerings, the priests would notify the Emperor that the deities were suffering from hunger. As soon as the Emperor’s proclamation spread the news through the country that the deities were ready for a banquet, it was the signal for a general war upon their neighbors. Then as soon as a sufficient number of prisoners had been collected, the priests began their hideous business. It cannot be denied that the various calamities which befell the natives at the hands of the tyrannical Europeans were a very great wrong, but, as compared with the terrible cruelties practised before their arrival, it must be acknowledged that these unfortunate people upon the whole gained more than they lost by submission to the Spanish yoke.
Cortes’ delight over the successful progress of his undertaking up to this time was now disturbed by reflections upon the dangerous situation into which he had so recklessly plunged. He realized all too clearly that he had ventured more than he might be able to carry out, and that the fate of himself and his army rested in the hands of a prince whose real intentions seemed to grow more and more mysterious. The Tlaxcalans from the beginning had not ceased to warn him that Montezuma’s object in receiving him in his capital was to catch him in a trap from which there was no way of escape. The disposition of this ruler and the peculiar situation of his capital lent probability to these warnings. Should they destroy the causeways located along the lake, which were the only approaches to the city, he saw that he would be completely cut off from the rest of the world and surrounded by a multitude against whose superior numbers neither his courage nor his weapons might be of any avail. In this emergency a very unpleasant event had occurred at Vera Cruz, of which Cortes received information shortly before this time.
Quauhpopoka, one of the Mexican generals, after Cortes’ departure for that region, determined to punish those people who had revolted and placed themselves under the protection of the Spaniards. Escalante, the governor of Vera Cruz, considered himself bound to assist his allies. At the head of his little band and with the two remaining horses he offered battle. He held his ground, but he himself and seven others were fatally wounded. The most unfortunate event of the battle was the killing of one of the horses and the capture of one of his men. The Mexicans killed their prisoner at once and sent his head to various cities as a proof that the Spaniards were not immortal. At last their trophy reached the capital. Cortes, who naturally was disturbed by the dangers confronting him, spent that night in earnest consideration of methods to escape them. Toward morning he summoned some of his faithful Tlaxcalans to ascertain just what they had seen or heard of Montezuma’s secret designs. Their statements confirmed his suspicions as well as his determination to carry out the plan he had settled upon. They specially informed him that the leading officials had acted mysteriously for several days, that the head of a Spaniard had been sent among the provinces, and that Montezuma had issued orders to conceal it. Finally they declared they had heard that preparations were already being made to destroy the causeways.
This was enough for Cortes. His decision was made, and he endeavored to convince his officers that there was no other way of escape except that which he had planned.
Cortes summoned his officers to a council of war and set before them the great danger to which they would be exposed in case Montezuma attacked them. They recognized at once that the situation must be met. Some were of opinion they should leave the city entirely and cross the causeways before their road was cut off. Others suggested that they should retire with the knowledge of the Emperor. Both these measures, however, appeared unwise, since any withdrawal would seem like flight and would involve not only a battle with the Mexicans but also the contempt of their allies. Cortes announced a plan, inspired by the highest daring in the face of a desperate situation. He would make Montezuma a prisoner, leaving him an appearance of sovereignty, but actually ruling in his name. The deed of Quauhpopoka, for which the Emperor was responsible, would furnish justification for his imprisonment. After the council had approved this project, preparations were made to carry it out. The whole force was placed under arms in the closed courtyard in readiness at the first signal to go to the help of the general. Some small detachments were ordered to occupy the streets leading to Montezuma’s palace, which would not create excitement, as the people were used to seeing armed Spaniards. When the hour came in which Cortes was accustomed to wait upon the Emperor, he betook himself with five officers and thirty of the bravest men in his army to the palace. This also aroused no suspicion, for a military escort was a common spectacle.
Cortes as usual was courteously received and was conducted to Montezuma’s apartment with his officers and interpreter. The servants withdrew and the venturesome scene began. With a countenance expressive of the highest indignation Cortes denounced the faithless act of Quauhpopoka, who, at a time of peace, and in defiance of justice, had attacked his people and allies, inhumanly slaughtered a Spaniard, and sent his head through the country as a show. He added that report made Montezuma himself responsible for this and therefore he was forced to demand satisfaction for the insult which had been offered to his master, the greatest monarch of the earth.