Montezuma was so terrified that he turned pale, but he declared by all that was most sacred he was in no way responsible for the outrage. As a proof of his innocence he added that he would at once order Quauhpopoka and his accomplices to be brought to Mexico in chains. Cortes thereupon assumed a more friendly attitude and assured Montezuma that as far as he himself was concerned he was entirely content, but to satisfy his enraged soldiers he would have to demand more. They would never be persuaded that such a deed could have happened without the Emperor’s knowledge if he did not agree publicly to prove his good faith and sincere friendship. The proof which they demanded was his presence for several days in their quarters where they might offer fitting honors to His Majesty.
Montezuma was beside himself with astonishment and indignation at this unusual demand. He was unable to speak and stood like a statue, while Cortes represented to him that this request of his soldiers was not unseemly as he would spend the time in quarters assigned to him in one of his own palaces. At last the astonished man came to himself and found words to express his indignation. With great dignity he said: “A sovereign of the Mexican Empire is not accustomed voluntarily to accept imprisonment, and, even if I were capable of it, my subjects would never submit to such shameful treatment.”
Cortes, who was reluctant to use force, both flattered and threatened Montezuma to induce him to give his consent, but it was in vain. At last, after three hours had been wasted in useless talk, Velasquez De Leon, one of the Spanish officers, a young, excitable man, whose patience was exhausted, exclaimed with threatening gestures: “Why all this consideration? Take him by force or kill him.” Montezuma asked what he had said. Marina informed him and added that she trembled for his life if he refused to go. The poor man at once lost all courage. He realized that he was in the power of strong men and that he must expect the worst if he longer refused. He yielded to his fate, sprang from his seat, and informed Cortes he trusted to his assurances and would go with him.
MONTEZUMA THE CAPTIVE OF THE SPANIARDS
Thereupon he called together his leading officials and informed them that for important reasons he should spend a few days with his guest. They were greatly astonished but did not venture to offer the least objection to the absolute will of their master. They carried the litter in which the unfortunate monarch was borne away from his own people, a prisoner under Spanish guard. Hardly was his removal known in the city before the streets were filled with crowds. Some shrieked, others wept, others threw themselves upon the ground as if in their last despairing agony. But Montezuma tried to calm them. He appeared with a smiling countenance, motioned to them with his hand, and assured them he was not a prisoner. He was voluntarily going to visit this guest for a few days. This quieted them somewhat, and the Spaniards proceeded without hindrance to their quarters with their prisoner. Montezuma went to an apartment he was accustomed to occupy and the attendants treated him with the utmost respect, as their general had ordered. His first act was to send an order in Cortes’ presence to his body-guard, to bring Quauhpopoka and the rest of the guilty ones in chains to the city.
In due time Quauhpopoka, his son, and five of his principal people were brought to Mexico. Cortes called a council of war and the unfortunates were condemned to be burned alive. As soon as the decision was made, in order to humble this submissive monarch to the utmost and make a mockery of his former power, Cortes, in sight of all the people, arbitrarily emptied Montezuma’s arsenal of the great quantity of spears, shields, and other weapons kept there, in order to make a pyre of it upon which to burn the victims, who were not guilty of crime for they had only done what their master had ordered. The weapons collected for the protection of the Empire were heaped up. A countless multitude of dazed spectators stood there, not knowing what to say or do. The awful sacrifice was made.
At the same instant Cortes, accompanied by several officers and a soldier carrying iron fetters, went to Montezuma’s apartment. He approached the terrified monarch and fiercely thundered at him that he was the malefactor, for he was the author of the outrages perpetrated by these victims. Hardly had he spoken these words when he turned his back upon the man fallen so low from his former high estate, and the soldier placed the fetters upon the Emperor. Montezuma stood speechless, helpless, almost senseless. At last he broke into a loud wail, evidently expecting they would immediately lead him also to the place of punishment. But what made this piteous scene most touching was the demeanor of his faithful attendants, who prostrated themselves in silent grief at his feet, bedewing them with their tears. They raised his fetters to lighten their weight and placed little pieces of soft cloth between the iron and his skin that his precious limbs might not feel the pressure. It was a sight to bring tears of sympathy to the eyes of the most hard-hearted spectator.
The punishment having been inflicted, Cortes approached Montezuma in a friendly manner and said that justice was satisfied. With these words he ordered his fetters taken off. The distracted and humiliated monarch was wellnigh overcome with delight. He embraced his oppressor over and over as he expressed his gratitude for his release. The unfortunate monarch in his excess of joy seemed to forget that the fetters taken from him now might soon be fastened more firmly than ever.
Cortes now made one bold move after another to bring the Mexican people into complete subjection. He sent some of his officers through the country, partly to learn the extent and nature of each province and partly to discover the places where gold and silver were to be found. He also persuaded Montezuma, under various pretences, to remove the ablest and most courageous of his officials and appoint in their places weak and unintelligent men who could easily be managed by the Spaniards. Then he made a last humiliating demand in his efforts to crush Montezuma’s proud spirit. It was that he should publicly acknowledge himself a vassal of the Spanish King and bind himself to pay an annual tribute as a sign of his subjection. What could Montezuma do? His liberty, his life, were in the hands of Cortes. He realized that he must concede every demand, however exacting.
He summoned the notables of his Empire, reminded them of the old prophecy which was now fulfilled, and announced that from now on he and his Empire were subject to the great King of the East to whom sovereignty had descended from their common ancestor. With these words, the tears came to his eyes, showing how great was the sacrifice he was making. There was a low murmur among the assembled Mexicans. Astonishment and indignation were visible on every face, and they appeared ready to maintain the rights of the Empire and their sovereign by force. But Cortes allayed their anger and prevented any outbreak by assuring them his master had no intention of taking his Empire from Montezuma but would be contented to become its protector. This assurance as well as their Emperor’s demeanor quieted them, and the ceremonies which the Spaniards had arranged to make Montezuma’s subjection the more impressive were completed without interruption. Montezuma confirmed his allegiance by making a handsome gift and ordered the caciques of his country to do the same.
Now that mighty Mexico had become a Spanish Province, Cortes next proceeded to allot the collected spoils. They were divided into five parts. One was assigned to the King of Spain; the second to himself, as commander; the third was set apart as indemnity for those who had paid for their own equipment; and the remainder was given to the army. The share for each soldier and sailor was not as large as had been expected, which caused general dissatisfaction, but Cortes promptly quieted them by presenting them with a part of the treasure which properly belonged to him.
The unfortunate Montezuma, as we have seen, had conceded all the demands made upon him, but to the great surprise of Cortes there was one which he firmly and steadfastly declined to yield. This was the abandonment of the religious belief of himself and his people. Neither flattery nor threats moved him. Cortes, no longer able to endure its hideous cruelties, went to Montezuma with some of his officers and demanded that room should be made for the Christian service in the principal temple. Montezuma was greatly surprised at the demand and replied that the Mexicans would never permit such a desecration of their temple, that resistance would be made, and much bloodshed would result, so great was their fear of the wrath of their deities. But when Cortes announced he would be satisfied if one tower were set apart for the Christian service, Montezuma answered that he would consult the priests about the matter. Their decision was favorable, and the use of one of the sacred towers was granted. The news occasioned great joy in the Spanish quarters. The sacred place was cleared of its revolting impurities, an altar was erected with a cross and image of the Virgin upon it, and the walls were newly decorated. The soldiers entered in festal procession, the mass was heard, and the Te Deum sung with tears of gratitude. Thus the sweet tones of divine love and mercy mingled with the wild songs of the Indian priests in honor of Anahuak, a war god.
This unnatural situation could not long continue. The Mexicans were greatly outraged because their religion was trodden under foot. They realized more clearly than ever the haughty insolence of these strangers, and they began to consider plans for their removal. The priests and leading men, who were present at private interviews with the imprisoned Emperor more frequently than of late, implored revenge for their insulted deities, and Montezuma’s condition thus grew more dangerous and distressed. What should he do? Whither should he turn? At last he aroused himself and decided to take a middle course which wisdom pointed out as the safest. With this object in view, he summoned Cortes. The latter, whose suspicions had already been aroused by these private interviews of the priests and leading men with Montezuma, took the precaution of having twelve of his bravest men accompany him. His suspicions were confirmed when he entered Montezuma’s apartment and observed a seriousness of expression on his face which he had never seen before. He was still more surprised when Montezuma seized his hand, drew him aside, and in an almost menacing tone said to him that, as the object for which his master had sent him was now accomplished, he hoped he would hasten his departure.
At this unexpected reply, and moved still more by the dark look and decisive manner which accompanied it, Cortes turned to his men and quietly ordered them to have the entire force under arms at once. Then with the utmost composure and indifference of manner he turned to Montezuma and replied that there was nothing he wished more heartily than to return to his fatherland, but, as all his vessels were destroyed, he must build others and would have to request the necessary assistance. Montezuma could not conceal his delight. He embraced Cortes, overwhelmed him with caresses, and assured him that his declaration would satisfy his priests and his subjects, both of whom were desirous the strangers should leave. Cortes now clearly ascertained the sentiment of the priests and the people, and came to the conclusion that the only way he could evade the danger threatening him and his plans was by continual dissimulation. He accordingly publicly ordered the construction of new vessels, secretly instructing the ship-carpenters, however, to protract the work in every possible way, in hopes that the reinforcements he was expecting from Spain would arrive in the meantime. But truly, as if the punishment of heaven were following close upon his dishonest conduct, an event shortly occurred which plunged all his plans into desperate confusion. Montezuma hastily summoned him and showed him a picture, painted in the Mexican style upon white calico, of eighteen European vessels. The picture had been brought to the Emperor by swift runners with the news that these vessels were lying at anchor on his coasts.
Cortes was delighted at this news, for it inspired the hope that these vessels had brought the confirmation from Spain of his appointment as governor of the newly discovered country. But to his great astonishment he learned several days later from Sandoval, the governor at Vera Cruz, that the fleet which had arrived was sent out by Velasquez for no other purpose than to capture him and take him to Cuba for trial. As we know, Cortes had sent one of his vessels to Spain with samples of the rich products of Mexico, and at the same time to secure his appointment. Montejo and Puertocarrero, the commanders of this vessel, had received explicit orders not to touch at the island of Cuba. They were to leave the island as far to their right as possible and sail around the point of Florida through the Bahamian Straits. But Montejo, who had property in Cuba, was so far forgetful of his duty to his superior as to attempt a visit to his possessions before sailing to Spain. He hardly reached the coast before Velasquez received news of his appearance. Velasquez’ wrath was kindled anew. He despatched two strong vessels for the purpose of capturing Cortes’ vessel with all on board, but luckily they received warning in time to effect their escape and sail for Spain without interference.
Velasquez was now more furious than ever. He decided to fit out a powerful squadron, hunt out Cortes, and make him feel his vengeance. While preparing his expedition he received news from Spain that Cortes’ vessel had safely arrived, and also learned just where Cortes was and the success of his operations up to that time. The equipment was pushed forward with redoubled vigor. The fleet consisted of eighteen vessels, carrying nine hundred foot-soldiers, eighteen troopers, and twelve cannon. It was a formidable force for those days and outnumbered Cortes’ army two to one. Everything completed, Narvaez, a very bold, passionate, implacable man, was made commander with the title of deputy-governor of the countries discovered by Cortes. He sailed from Cuba in March, 1520. It was toward the end of April when Cortes heard the news of the arrival. He now found himself in a critical position which grew more dangerous every day. Should he venture to oppose a European force twice as strong as his own? Should he remain in Mexico? In that case he would be exposed to attack from two formidable enemies at the same time, for it was more than likely that as soon as the Mexicans found he was in danger they would immediately rush to arms against him. In this state of uncertainty he received reports every day, each more disquieting than the other. He found that some of his soldiers were deserting to Narvaez and acquainting him with everything he wished to know. He heard that Narvaez was everywhere proclaiming that Cortes and all his men were traitors, who had undertaken the subjection of the Mexicans without the knowledge or consent of their sovereign; and that he had been sent to capture them and take them back in chains for punishment. Montezuma and the whole suffering nation were urged to make common cause with him and aid in the capture of this robber band. It may easily be imagined that this was delightful news to Montezuma and his oppressed subjects. Their joy and their willingness to aid Narvaez were apparent everywhere. Cortes meanwhile in the most positive manner denied the reports which Narvaez had circulated, and assured the Mexicans these Europeans were his good friends, subjects of one and the same master, and that he and his men would soon depart with them. But indifferent as Cortes appeared, he was in reality greatly troubled. Meanwhile he considered every plan of escape from these dangers which his ingenuity suggested, and at last reached a decision which seemed to him both reasonable and bold. He would first discover whether he could make a friendly agreement with Narvaez, and if he failed, then he would resist him.
He made the attempt but did not succeed. The impetuous Narvaez would not hear of any agreement, for he esteemed it an easy matter to overpower Cortes and his little force. Nothing now remained for Cortes but to defend himself as well as he could, and he made his preparations to do so. He appointed Alvarado, a brave officer who was highly esteemed by the Mexicans, as commander at the capital and leader of one hundred and fifty men whom he decided to leave behind. He explicitly urged them to conduct themselves quietly and peaceably during his absence and to treat Montezuma respectfully as he had promised to remain under Spanish protection until Cortes returned.
The bold man was now ready with this little remnant of his divided force to meet an enemy who not only greatly exceeded him in strength but was greatly embittered against him.
Narvaez had advanced to Zempoala. Sandoval, meanwhile, confiding the colony at Vera Cruz to the protection of the allies, hastened to unite his force with that of Cortes. They met at a spot about twelve miles distant from Zempoala, and numbered, all told, not more than two hundred and fifty men. Cortes steadily advanced upon Zempoala until he was only a mile away, and Narvaez, who had the utmost contempt for him, deciding to give battle at once, advanced to meet him with his greatly superior force. A fierce rain storm occurred that day, and Cortes had so well chosen a position on the opposite side of a swollen stream that Narvaez did not discover him. The latter’s soldiers murmured and protested there was no enemy in the vicinity. “What is the use,” they exclaimed, “of staying here to fight the elements? There is no enemy here and nothing to fear in such stormy weather. Let us return to Zempoala and be ready in the morning to defeat the enemy if he appears.” Narvaez, who was not at all disinclined to follow their suggestion, returned, gave the necessary instructions for their safety, and then displayed the most utter negligence, as if no enemy were near. His soldiers, many of whom were not yet accustomed to the hardships of the march, were delighted with the arrangements and were equally negligent. Cortes, believing that Narvaez’ contempt for him, and the fatigue of his not yet hardened soldiers, would lead them to be off their guard, decided to make a night attack. He drew up his little army, explained his purpose, and found to his great delight that it was not at all necessary to encourage them in this venturesome task as all expressed their greatest willingness to follow him. The army was divided into three detachments, one led by Sandoval, one by Olid, and the other by Cortes himself.
It was one of the darkest and most inhospitable nights imaginable. The swollen stream rushed along like a mountain torrent, and there was no way of crossing it except by fording. Cortes was the first to plunge in, and his men followed him with enthusiastic alacrity. The water was up to their necks, but all save two men safely reached the other side. The dripping soldiers formed in order and marched to Zempoala in death-like stillness, each carrying a sword, a dagger, and a long Indian spear. The spear was for use against the enemy’s cavalry. Cortes’ conjectures were confirmed. Narvaez was so unconcerned that he had placed only two sentinels on guard. One of these was surprised and taken prisoner, the other escaped and fled to the city in a panic of fear to give the alarm. Narvaez’ contempt for his enemy was so great that he declared the sentinel had been dreaming and that it was ridiculous to imagine that Cortes would dare to attack him voluntarily with a handful of men.
Suddenly he heard the battle cry as Cortes and his men hurled themselves upon the city like a thunderstorm, terror following in their wake. Too late Narvaez realized his foolish error, but he hastened as fast as he could to rally his men. He and his troops were quartered in and around a great temple which the enemy stormed so quickly and irresistibly that only a single cannon could be used against them. Sandoval, who commanded the advance, captured the cannon and drove the enemy helter-skelter up the temple steps. The struggle was a desperate one. Narvaez, who was in the temple, sought to rally his men and inspire them with the example of his own courage, but Sandoval continued driving them before him. Olid supported him, and Cortes, who forgot for the moment that he was the commander, sprang to the front and inspired his men with his own daring. A soldier in Cortes’ troops suddenly discovered that fire had broken out among the reeds on the roof of the temple. The building was immediately in flames and Narvaez found himself forced to leave. He strove at the head of his men to make his way out, but a spear was thrust in his eye and he fell. Sandoval seized him, dragged him down the stairs quickly, bound him, and bore him to a place of safety in the rear. The victors raised a triumphant shout, and the enemy, now without a leader, became so panic-stricken that their resistance grew weaker and weaker. A general holocaust would have been inevitable had not Cortes offered pardon to all who should come out and surrender. Narvaez’ men had seen a countless number of little flickering lights in the darkness of the night, which resembled matches, and which led them to believe Cortes had a large force of arquebusiers posted in the thickets, for fire-arms at that time were always discharged by matches. This fancy—for these lights were made by glow-worms—increased the alarm of the enemy, and at last no further resistance was made.
The victory was complete. While the air was full of the shouts of the victors Cortes seated himself and, after throwing a richly embroidered cloak about his shoulders, received the congratulations of his officers and soldiers. He graciously permitted the common soldiers to kiss his hand, paid special distinction to the officers, and cordially greeted those of the enemy who had once been his friends. Indeed he treated them in such a considerate manner that those who but a short time since had fought against him became his friends. In this way his little army was increased by the addition of eight hundred fresh and well-armed soldiers, an increase which secured for him the most powerful army yet seen in that part of the world. As soon as the wounded Narvaez came to himself it was with a deadly feeling of humiliation that he found himself chained hand and foot and in the power of the enemy for whom he had had so much contempt. Cortes desired to see him without his knowledge so that he might not seem to be gloating over his misfortune, but as soon as he entered the room the respect shown by the soldiers in attendance betrayed his presence. The proud Narvaez turned to him and said: “Señor Cortes, you have cause to congratulate yourself upon the good luck which has made me your prisoner.” Such haughtiness seemed to need some reproof, so Cortes replied: “All that God does is well done; meanwhile, I assure you that I consider the victory just won and your capture as among my slightest achievements.” Cortes kept him bound and had him taken to Vera Cruz.
Hardly had Cortes enjoyed a few hours of rejoicing over his quick and glorious victory than his attention was directed to fresh dangers which had arisen, like a distant storm, in another place. Messengers came from Mexico with the unpleasant news that the people of the city had risen in revolt and attacked the Spaniards left behind, and that Alvarado was trying to protect himself against them in his stronghold. Montezuma himself had sent one of his people to implore Cortes to return as quickly as possible and put down the uprising. The danger was so great and threatening that Cortes lost no time in going to the rescue of his people. After he had provided for the safety of the vessels by manning them with his own crews, he placed himself at the head of his now formidable army and marched as rapidly as possible through Tlaxcala to the capital. The faithful Tlaxcalans offered to reinforce him with their entire war power, but he contented himself by taking only two thousand men and giving them hearty thanks for their steadfast loyalty. His march was made in a cautious manner but his good fortune and the simplicity of the Mexicans made caution superfluous. It would have been easy to cut off his return to the capital by destroying the causeways, but the Mexicans were either too stupid or too timorous to do it. Cortes found them just as he had left them, and nothing stood in the way of his entrance into the city. This occurred June 24, 1520.
But how different was the manner of this from his first entrance! This time there was no one to receive him, no one who looked on in astonishment, no one who raised a cry of joy. All was silent in the deserted streets, and none of Alvarado’s soldiers was seen until the Spanish quarters were reached. Then there were cordial greetings on both sides, embraces, and exultant shouts without end. Alvarado and his men were delighted at their unexpected deliverance from an appalling danger. Cortes and his companions were overjoyed with the double pleasure of victory and meeting their companions, and Montezuma himself, who had kept his promise not to leave the Spanish quarters, appeared to sympathize with the delight of his oppressors.
Cortes now learned all that had taken place during his absence. Infuriated by their treatment at the hands of the malicious Spaniards, the Mexicans had rushed to arms. Alvarado gave his consent for a celebration in honor of Pitzliputzli if they would appear at the temple unarmed. As the Mexicans, among them several hundred of their prominent men, were engaged in the ceremonies the Spaniards fell upon them and murdered many. The survivors were infuriated. Neither their own danger nor that of their imprisoned sovereign deterred them from attacking the Spanish quarters with such fierceness that Alvarado and his little band had difficulty in protecting themselves. Then two vessels were burned, four Spaniards killed, and several wounded. The rest expected their destruction, but a few days before Cortes’ arrival the Mexicans suddenly ceased hostilities and remained quiet. With his extraordinary force, and considering the extreme awe with which the Mexicans regarded him, it would undoubtedly have been easy for him to have put down the uprising at once. But his methods of administration were now changed. Intoxicated with the astonishing good fortune which had accompanied his every move, he regarded each new danger with the utmost contempt and did not even consider it worth while any longer to conceal his intentions. From this time on he utterly disregarded Montezuma and so far abandoned his previous prudence as to pay no attention to the just indignation of these outraged people.
Cortes flattered himself it would be an easy task to hold the mutinous Mexicans in check by force. Thinking thus, he sent one of his bravest officers, Ordaz by name, with a corps of four hundred men, partly Spaniards, partly Tlaxcalans, to ascertain whether the people had really quieted down or were making preparations for new attacks. In pursuance of his duty, Ordaz marched through the city streets but had not gone far before he encountered a body of armed Mexicans. In order to intercept some of them he incautiously advanced upon them, but they at once retreated. This was done, as soon appeared, not from cowardice, but because of their orders to draw the Spanish leader and his men into a trap. Their plan succeeded. Ordaz pursued the fugitives to a quarter of the city where he suddenly found himself surrounded and attacked by a countless swarm of the enemy. Even the flat roofs of the houses were covered with men who darkened the air with stones, arrows, and other missiles, hurled at the Spaniards from every direction. Fortunately Ordaz, serious and unexpected as the danger was, lost neither his courage nor presence of mind but placed his men in a formation best calculated to make the attack. Then he charged upon the enemy where they were densest. It was not long before the Mexicans began to weaken. Ordaz cut his way through them and at last, after much bloodshed, succeeded in reaching the Spanish quarters. One Spaniard and eight Tlaxcalans were killed, and Ordaz himself and most of his people were wounded.
After this disaster Cortes expected the Mexicans would desist from further hostilities, but he was mistaken. Hardly had the Spaniards reached their quarters before they observed the enemy assembling in formidable bodies for a general attack. Cortes instantly made the necessary preparations for defence, and now began a battle which for courage and obstinacy has hardly been equalled. The Mexicans charged with such a din of drums and horns and such fearful battle cries that the roar of the cannon could hardly be distinguished. They seemed unanimously determined to conquer or die. Some kept up a continuous shower of arrows and stones. Others, despising death, sought to scale the walls and others to get possession of the gates. Some mounted upon the shoulders of others to reach the top of the walls, and when they were hurled down dead or wounded, others would take their places instantly. Such was their courage that they trod upon the dead and wounded to fill up the breaches, and, terrible as was the effect of cannon and musketry among them, they still kept up their furious attack until at last, after horrible slaughter, superstition forced them to end the battle and withdraw, for they never fought after sundown, and it was now evening.
The night that followed was not much quieter, for, although the Mexicans did not dare to fight, they found ways to set fire to the Spanish buildings and it was only by extraordinary exertions that a general conflagration was prevented. Although exhausted with the struggle and their last night’s labor in extinguishing fires, the Spaniards at daybreak again were at their posts to resist another attack. One bloody assault followed another. It seemed as if the fury of this embittered nation could never be extinguished, although each fresh attempt to storm the Spanish stronghold failed, and Cortes by various methods slaughtered the natives by thousands and devastated a part of their city by fire.
Cortes shared the fate of most of his soldiers and was wounded. He was struck by an arrow in the left hand. Thereupon he withdrew to his apartments where undisturbed he might form some plan to extricate himself from his dangerous situation. He had hardly begun gathering his thoughts together when the storm broke out anew at every corner of the quarters, for the Mexicans had now formed in bands for a general assault. He rushed back and found that his presence was never more necessary, for the enemy now was fighting with even greater courage than on the day before, and all his alertness and skill were required to make the necessary defence at every place.
When the battle was at its height, the unfortunate Montezuma decided—some say voluntarily, others say at the request of the Spaniards—to make an attempt to stop this bloodshed by showing himself in person to his raging subjects and reminding them of their reverential duty to him. He put on his imperial mantle, placed the regent crown on his head, and adorned himself with the wealth of jewels which he had been accustomed to wear on state occasions. Thus arrayed, he went, in company with some leading Mexicans, to the Spanish stronghold. One of these mounted the wall and announced to the furious multitude that their sovereign had arrived and that he was ready to listen to their grievances and end hostilities with the strangers, his guests.
At the mention of his name the battle ceased and respectful silence followed. Thereupon the unfortunate monarch himself mounted the wall. All bowed in reverence, some fell upon their knees and kissed the ground. Glancing over the multitude, Montezuma sought out the leaders and, after thanking them for their expressions of devotion, assured them they were wrong in supposing he was a prisoner. He had only remained so long among his guests that he might acquaint himself with their customs, and show his respect for the mighty ruler whose representatives they were. As he was now about to leave them he implored his people to lay down their arms and return to their homes.
When Montezuma had concluded his address, there was a general silence for several minutes, but gradually a low murmur began and soon grew into an uproar of protest. The boldest and most insolent of the crowd hurled invectives at their ruler and shouted that he was no longer Emperor of Mexico but a miscreant, a wretch, and a miserable slave of the enemy of their fatherland. Montezuma tried to speak and motioned with his hand for silence but in vain. There was a great bustle and in an instant arrows and stones were hurled at him. The two soldiers at his side whom Cortes had sent with him tried to cover him with their shields, but it was too late. His cup of sorrow was filled. He was pierced by many arrows, and a blow upon the head by a stone felled him senseless.
Amazed at this unfortunate event, Cortes had the almost lifeless monarch taken to his own house, to save him if possible, and then, flaming with anger, rushed back to take a bloody revenge, but he was too late. Hardly had they seen their Emperor fall when the Mexicans scattered, as if expecting fire from heaven to descend upon them for this cruel deed. In the meantime Montezuma regained consciousness but his condition was pitiable. The thought of his subjects’ conduct made him almost insane. They had to hold his hands to prevent him from doing injury to himself. Cortes vainly tried to quiet him. He rejected all offers of consolation, tore the bandages from his wounds, and tried to put an end to his life. These passionate outbreaks and his obstinate refusal to take nourishment hastened his death. He died uttering imprecations against his subjects and disappointed the anticipations of the Spaniards by rejecting with great contempt at the last moment the proffer of the Christian faith. When Father Olmedo, kneeling at his side, raised the cross and earnestly entreated him to embrace it, he coldly repulsed the priest and said: “I have only a few hours to live and I will not be untrue to the faith of my fathers.” The fate of his children, especially of his three daughters, rested heavily upon his mind. He called Cortes to his bedside and committed these children to his care as the most precious jewels he should leave behind him. He implored him to see that they were not left helpless and that they had their rightful share of his inheritance. “Your ruler, the King of Spain, should do this,” said Montezuma, “were it only for the friendly service I have rendered the Spaniards, and the affection I have shown them, which has brought me to this wretched plight. But even that has not turned me against them.” These, according to Cortes’ statement, were the last words of the dying Emperor. Not long after this, on the thirtieth of June, 1520, he died in the arms of one of his nobles, who had always been faithful to him. As long as Montezuma lay suffering from his wounds his subjects remained quiet, but hardly had he died when they prepared for the choice of a new ruler and the immediate resumption of hostilities. Montezuma’s successor was his brother, Cuitlahua, a brave and warlike prince, who died suddenly from small-pox four months after he became Emperor.
The new Emperor commenced hostilities with a movement that sorely pressed the Spaniards. He had his bravest men occupy the flat roof and tower of the principal temple, which stood close to the Spanish quarters, from which points they could hurl stones and beams into the inner court. Cortes, who was seriously contemplating a retreat, was thereby prevented from making the necessary preparations and found it imperative to drive the enemy from this dangerous position. He entrusted this duty to Escobar, one of his bravest officers, whom he placed at the head of a picked troop. Meanwhile he himself planned to drive the enemy from the streets with the rest of his force in order to keep them open for those who were attacking the temple. Escobar advanced and met with no resistance up to the foot of the temple steps, a hundred in number. But when they were half way up the ascent, a multitude of the enemy appeared at the rails and hurled down upon them such a shower of arrows, stone, and beams that he and his men could not resist their force. Three times he sought to achieve the impossible and three times he was driven back. When Cortes, who in the meantime had not been idle, heard of their plight, he sprang from his horse, without stopping long to consider, bound his shield to his arm as he could not hold it with his wounded hand, and rushed with drawn sword to the temple steps. He called upon his men to follow him and advanced apparently to his certain death. He dashed down everything that opposed him and at last gained the flat temple roof where the flower of the Mexicans had gathered, determined to conquer or die. A fierce hand to hand struggle ensued with clubs and swords, every one resolved to sell his life as dearly as possible. There was not one who would not rather have been cut to pieces than surrender. Some leaped down from the pinnacle of the temple rather than outlive their freedom, and all fought with a lion-like courage never before exhibited in the New World.
While Cortes was making this desperate fight, his troop in the streets was meeting with little success. As soon as the temple was captured, he hastened to the assistance of the rest of his men. He swung himself upon his horse, hung the bridle upon his left arm, and with levelled lance dashed into the enemy, hurling every one who opposed him to the earth. Unfortunately his zeal carried him so far that as he turned his horse he found himself cut off from his men by so great a swarm of the enemy that it seemed impossible to make his way through them. His situation was serious but he quickly found a way out of it. He noticed a side street in which the enemy was not so densely massed. He plunged into this and soon regained his men. As he did so he suddenly noticed that his friend, Andreas Duero, had been taken prisoner and was being dragged to the temple, by a great crowd, to be offered up as a fresh victim to the gods. Cortes lost not a minute and, without the least consideration for the number of the enemy, dashed into their midst to rescue his friend. He scattered those who were taking him, and Duero, as soon as he was liberated, with his dagger disposed of one who was trying to hold him and of another who held his horse, mounted the animal unhurt, and the two friends safely rejoined their people. Cortes always considered this achievement as the happiest in all his life. The enemy now gave way on every side. Cortes, therefore, to save more bloodshed, and to give his exhausted men an opportunity for rest, gave the signal for withdrawal. They returned to their quarters and cared for their wounds.
On the next day both sides remained quiet. Cortes made preparations for his departure and the Mexicans did not appear disposed to resume hostilities. But their apparent peacefulness was far from being genuine. They were more determined than ever to extirpate the Spaniards and they were engaged upon a well considered change of plans to accomplish it. Their design now was to prevent his retreat by cutting the causeways and leaving them to perish from hunger. But Cortes, whose foresight never failed him, built a floating bridge with incredible swiftness, which could be thrown across the opening. As soon as it was ready, he ordered that the retreat should be made in the night. He hoped that either the darkness would enable him to make his escape or that the well known night superstition of the Mexicans would prevent them from interfering with him. But in this he was mistaken.
As soon as night came he divided his army into three columns. Sandoval was appointed leader of the advance. He himself led the centre column, and Velasquez de Leon, a near relative of the governor of Cuba, brought up the rear. The army set out in the stillness of midnight. Noise of any kind was carefully avoided and the falling rain seemed to favor them. For a time not a trace of counter preparation was discovered and at last they reached the causeway leading to Tacuba which had been selected for two reasons by Cortes. In the first place, it was the shortest, and in the second, he had hopes that the Mexicans might have neglected to cut it, as it was in an entirely different direction from that which the Spaniards had taken when they came. But this hope was soon dissipated, for when they reached the spot, they found it cut. With the help of the floating bridge, they attempted to make the crossing, but before it was accomplished the terrible battle cry of the enemy was heard, announcing death and destruction on every hand. The lake was suddenly alive with canoes. The beginning of the battle was marked by a terrible storm of arrows and stones. The place, the darkness, and the desperation of the assailants made it one of the most deadly in history.
The Spaniards were caught upon a narrow pier between the first and second openings. They now sought to raise their bridge and take it to the second, but the weight of the heavy guns had forced it between the stones so closely that they could not get it loose. All their exertions were in vain and they were now so fiercely attacked in front, in the rear, and on both sides that no hope was left, either of victory or escape. The Mexicans fought with desperation, determined either to die themselves or destroy the enemies of their fatherland. The Spaniards strove with all their skill and might to clear the way, but, as often as they secured a passage with the sword, fresh fighters took the place of the slain. They rushed upon them in such dense masses that they could not use their fire-arms. At last their strength was exhausted. They could no longer withstand this constantly increasing multitude. The advance gave away and there was universal confusion. Infantry and cavalry, friends and foes, were huddled together so closely that they fought blindly and without knowing, in the darkness, whether they struck friend or foe.
In the midst of this dreadful slaughter Cortes got together about a hundred men, with whom he made an effort to cut his way through, and finally succeeded in making his way to the mainland. He could not endure the thought of his own rescue, however, while the larger part of his army was still in danger. Selecting those who had not been wounded, he went back to share the fate of his friends. A part of them had succeeded in forcing their way through to him, but his joy at seeing them was turned to grief when he discovered that the Mexicans were carrying off their living captives to be sacrificed to their deities. He tried to save them but was unable to do more than protect the little remnant which had escaped. All were so exhausted that they could not renew the fight. The larger part of his army was either slain or met death by drowning.
The morning light broke and revealed a ghastly spectacle. More than half the Spaniards and over two thousand Tlaxcalans had perished. Velasquez de Leon, besides others of the bravest leaders, were missing. The most of the survivors were wounded. Artillery, ammunition, baggage, and the treasure they had collected were lost. The night of this horrible slaughter, which occurred July 1, 1520, is known to this day in New Spain as the Night of Sorrow. The first rendezvous was Tacuba but they could not remain there long for the whole country was in arms. The only place offering a secure shelter was Tlaxcala. To reach the road leading there they had to traverse the whole northern half of the Mexican lake, upon the west side of which they found a marshy region, and for several days had to march through an unknown country without the sustenance necessary to relieve their exhausted condition. But there was no other way left open to them. They must either abandon all hope of possible rescue or continue their march. Five days they traversed this apparently endless marsh. Early on the sixth they reached Otumba, and, as they ascended the adjacent heights, they observed the entire great plain covered with countless warriors at sight of whom the stoutest among them, except Cortes, abandoned all hope. Nothing could daunt his courage. His bearing impressed his soldiers with the certainty that they must either conquer or die. With his accustomed composure he rallied his men and led them against the enemy. As the heavy grass is cut by the scythe of the mower, so the enemy was mowed down by the swords of his soldiers. Nothing could withstand their onset and blood and corpses marked their course. But at last they were exhausted. Their arms sank powerless. The enemy hurled themselves upon them from all sides, and their destruction must have followed had not their watchful leader fortunately saved them. He noticed from a distance the Mexican chief carrying their battle flag. He remembered to have heard that Mexicans gave up all for lost if their flag was lost and his decision was instantly made. Followed by some of his brave officers, who were mounted, he dashed into the midst of the troop which guarded the banner, and hurled the Mexican leader to the earth with a thrust of his lance. One of his attendants sprang from his horse, killed him, and seized the flag. At that same moment all the other flags were lowered, a panic seized them, they threw down their arms and took to flight. Thus a lucky thought saved the Spaniards and gave them a victory which was as glorious as it was profitable, for, when the booty was collected, its value nearly reimbursed them for the treasures they had left behind in Mexico, as most of the Mexicans, confident of victory, had bedecked themselves with their most costly ornaments.