Part 11

Cortés proceeded at once to explore the capital, its paved causeways and lagoons. He devoted himself to gaining the friendship of Montezuma, and strove to incline him to embrace the Catholic religion and become a subject of the king of Spain. The bewildered king listened to these persuasions, transmitted to him through the lips of Malintzi-Marina, with amazement and dread. He scarcely understood the import of the words, and the doctrine of the Cross, thus suddenly presented to him, was only a puzzle. Cortés had but little patience with his pupil. His own situation was full of peril, in the midst of a large population who showed no cordiality towards the Spaniards. He resolved upon the bold measure of seizing the person of Montezuma.

Having found a pretext for a visit, Cortés waited on the monarch in his palace. An audience was readily granted. He was graciously received by Montezuma, who entered into light conversation through the interpreters, and gave little presents to the Spanish general and his attendants. He readily listened to the complaints brought by Cortés against certain caciques who had killed some Spaniards. Cortés then coolly suggested that it would be better for Montezuma to transfer his residence to the palace occupied by the Spaniards, as a sign to his people of his perfect confidence, as well as a proof to the king and master of Cortés that he was loyal to the strangers.

Montezuma listened to this proposal with looks of profound amazement. He became pale under his dark skin, but in a moment his face flushed with resentment; and he utterly declined the proposal. The visit was prolonged in discussion and persuasion, always gentle on the part of Cortés, but one of his companions, Velasquez de Léon, to cut short the matter, proposed seizing the king, with such fierce note and gesture, that Montezuma, alarmed, asked Marina what had been said. She strove to explain the exclamation in a gentle fashion, and besought him so tenderly to yield, that the poor king finally consented to quit his own palace and allowed himself to be led away. With their sovereign thus in his power, Cortés, with his wonderful tact and resource, might have succeeded in his plan of peaceably subjugating the Mexicans, but unfortunately at that time he had to leave the capital for Vera Cruz, where Narvaez, an emissary from the governor of Cuba, had just landed, with directions to dispossess Cortés of his command. The affair took only a little while, for Cortés surprised the new-comer in his own quarters at Cempoallan, routed him entirely, and carried off to join his own troops the forces sent against him from Cuba, a very timely addition, especially the horses, of which he was greatly in need.

This despatched, he returned in all haste to Mexico, which he had left in the hands of Don Pedro de Alvarado, whose unflinching bravery was spoiled by his cruel and sanguinary temper. Entirely lacking the good judgment of Cortés, he had in his absence involved the Spaniards in ruin. The month of May had arrived, in which the Mexicans were accustomed to hold a great festival in honor of Huitzilopochtli. By this time, the supremacy of the Spaniards had become so established, through the weakness of Montezuma that they asked the permission of Alvarado to have it. He consented, but in the middle of the night, when they were all assembled in the temple, unarmed and carelessly engaged in dancing and the festive ceremonies of the occasion, Alvarado entered with fifty Spaniards and in wholesale destruction killed them all. The population arose, and when Cortés came back he found Alvarado and the army besieged in their quarters and at the point of being overcome by the enraged populace.

Cortés, in dismay, disgusted with the folly of his lieutenant, knew not how to escape from its result. For several days the Mexicans attacked the Spaniards in their head-quarters. Cortés made several sallies and engaged in terrible combats with compact masses of the natives, but always had to retreat to his quarters, with losses that daily diminished his small army.

At last he persuaded Montezuma to ascend to the _azotea_, a flat roof of the palace, in order there to address his subjects and exhort them to suspend the attack. With repugnance the humbled monarch yielded, and emerged on the parapet. Opposite to him, he could easily discern animating the crowd who surged below, Cuitlahuatzin, his own brother, according to custom the general in chief, and probable successor to the throne.

Montezuma was clothed in his imperial robes; his mantle of white and blue flowed over his shoulders, held together by a rich clasp of green stone. Emeralds set in gold profusely ornamented his dress. The royal diadem was on his brow, and golden sandals on his feet. He was preceded by the golden wand of office, and surrounded by a few Aztec nobles. His presence was instantly recognized by the people, and a sudden change came over the scene. A death-like stillness pervaded the whole assembly, so that the voice of the monarch was distinctly heard. He addressed the people mildly, but when they found that he was urging mercy toward the stranger, the calm was turned to fury, the populace redoubled its cries and threats, and arrows and stones were aimed even at the Emperor, one of which wounded him fatally in the head.

The unhappy prince was borne to his apartment below. He had tasted the bitter cup of degradation. It may have been the simple effect of the wound, or his despair, which determined him to tear off the bandages, or, as the Aztecs think, a Spanish dagger which finally despatched him. Not many days after this supreme insult by his people, he died on the 30th of June, 1520.

Due respect was shown to his memory; his body was committed to the charge of his subjects, and borne by nobles, it is said, to Chapultepec, to be laid among the tombs of his ancestors, under the sad _ahuehuetes_. At least, this is the received account. A Mexican story says that on the night of the departure of the Spaniards the corpse of the monarch was dashed to pieces, by his enraged people, upon a tortoise of stone which stood in a corner of the palace of Axayacatl. And here, say the _indios_, wanders the melancholy spirit of Montezuma, under the gloomy cypress, restless and unable to sleep the sleep of death, lamenting the lost Tenochtitlan and the happy days of the Aztecs. Here comes also Malintzi, whom, when she meets him, the sad shade accosts: "Why, Malintzi, didst thou betray me to the stranger why didst thou plead with me for his cause?"

And the other sighs and wrings her hands and asks herself the same vain question.

There are other shadows, too, that frequent the moss-hung alleys of Chapultepec, but these are creatures of a later day and unheeded by the sorrowful phantoms of the victims of the Conquest.

As this is the story of the Mexicans, and not of the Conquest only, and as moreover that period of Mexican history is fully elsewhere described, we must pass slightly over the continued adventures of Cortés.

When the adventurer saw that the presence of the monarch had produced no good effect upon his subjects, he withdrew to head-quarters, and after a consultation with his captains, resolved to abandon the city and to cut a passage for himself and his army, through the enraged assemblage of his enemies. This difficult and dangerous task was effected on the night of July 1, 1520.

It was impossible to conceal so great a movement from the Mexicans. As soon as they became aware of it, they attacked the little army on its march, destroyed bridges before them, while suddenly the lagoons were covered with canoas from which showered arrows upon the Spaniards. Many soldiers were killed or drowned. They set out loaded with booty which they had seized in their palace, and their treasures impeded their progress, so that every Spaniard had to choose between abandoning these precious objects or saving his life. Quantities of gold and precious things according to the report, were thrown into the canals.

Cortés, himself under a thousand dangers, succeeded in effecting his escape from the city to a spot where, under a large tree, he threw himself down to rest, and there reviewed the whole extent of his misfortune, recognized the loss of his most faithful and bravest companions, and faced the maimed condition of the last of his army. Tears came to the eyes of the bold commander, and for a moment all his vigor and energy abandoned him.

Some few of his companions, however, were left to him. Alvarado, on whom rests the real blame in this disaster, had escaped by a miraculous leap across a breach in the causeway which it was necessary to pass. Pressing his long lance firmly on the bottom of the shallow lake, strewed with wrecks of every sort, he sprang across the chasm to the amazement of the beholders. Several others were there, and above all, Marina was safe in the hands of some Tlaxcallans who had faithfully protected her.

This fearful escape is called universally the _Noche triste_. The tree under which Cortés sat and wept is a venerable cypress still alive. It has been in perfect health until a few years ago, when a fire was lighted underneath it, by some foolish pic-nic party, which burned into its huge trunk. Since then an iron railing has been put up to protect it. The picturesque old Church of San Esteban stands near it. It is at Popotla, a suburb of the modern city easily attained by tram-cars, through crowded modern streets, where nothing is to be recognized of the calzadas of the Aztecs. The line of houses is broken in one place on the way to Popotla by a space shut in with a low wall and iron grating. Here, says tradition, is the very point in the causeway where Alvarado leaped the breach. As there is no indication nor tradition of the actual width of the chasm, our wonder is without any limit.

Cortés did not allow himself time to repose or despair. As the dawn broke he mounted his horse, and gathering together such stragglers as he could find, he led them out into the country to the Cerro of Otoncalpolco, now the Sanctuary de los Remedios. Here, weary and discouraged as he was, he attacked with his little band the natives who were defending the teocalli there was there, and drove them out. In this shelter he took care of his wounds and those of his men, and united the dispersed remnants of his army.

This sanctuary is now the abode of an image of the Holy Virgin, of which the legend is that it was brought to Mexico by one of the soldiers of Cortés, and that during the first stay of the Spaniards in Tenochtitlan it was permitted to be set up in a shrine of the great teocalli among the Aztec gods. It was carried thence on the fatal _Noche triste_, by its possessor, when he sought shelter in this very temple with the rest of the shattered Spanish army. And there he left it hidden under a maguey, being too sorely wounded to carry it farther, where it was found and made an object of veneration.

The accounts of losses in this conflict are varying. According to our present authority, the Spaniards lost four hundred and fifty men, twenty-six horses, and about four thousand allied Indians. On the Mexican losses it is impossible to speculate, but the artillery and fire-arms of their enemies must have made frightful havoc in the crowds of people who swarmed through the streets during the night.

XVII.

CONQUEST.

The Mexicans drew a long breath after the departure of the enemy. It is true their emperor was ignominiously slain, covered with the contempt and scorn of his own subjects. His two sons, whom Cortés carried with him as prisoners, perished in the flight. The streets ran with blood and were strewn with corpses. The beautiful city was defaced, the causeways shattered, the bridges destroyed, and many of the houses burnt down. But it was freed from the odius presence of the stranger, who they imagined would never return. In fact the Aztecs conceived him and his army to be absolutely annihilated. They set about restoring their tumbled down gods to their places, and contemplated appeasing Huitzilopochtli for the indignity with which he had been treated, by a new course of sacrifices.

Cuitlahuatzin, brother of Montezuma, was elected emperor. He had fought valiantly in the struggle, and shown heroic courage in driving Cortés from the capital, which it was his determination to enforce. He began the slow task of gathering the army together, and bringing order out of confusion, but a few days only after the great battle, he was attacked by small-pox. This disease, never before known among the Aztecs, was one of the misfortunes bequeathed to them by the Spaniards. A negro, who had just come up with Cortés, on his return from Vera Cruz, one of his recruits belonging to Narvaez, had the malady, and died of it, spreading contagion in the capital.

Cuahtemoc succeeded, the thirteenth and last king. He was of a different stock, the sons of Axayacatl all being destroyed, of the family of the friendly kings of the little neighboring state of Tlaltelolco. He embraced with enthusiasm the cause of his country, and attacked vigorously the work of restoration. He was but little more than twenty years old.

The tranquillity of the capital was but brief. In less than a week rumors came that the terrible white warrior was not killed, but alive, strong and determined as ever. Many of the Aztecs conceived him to be immortal, and it is scarcely to be wondered at. Cortés had gathered together the little remnant of his army, who crept along a winding route north of the city absolutely ignorant of their way, and what they might encounter. When light came, so that they were observed, stones and arrows were aimed at them by chance natives from above. For several days and nights they slowly advanced, living on the few ears of maize they found; for all provision was carried off from the deserted villages they passed through by the inhabitants as soon as they saw them approach. Cortés was always brave, cheerful, and even encouraging in these dark days. In this toilsome march seven days were passed, and then they came upon the strange pyramid of the sun and moon, at San Juan Teotihuacan, supposed to be the work of the earliest dwellers upon Anahuac, older than the Toltecs. These they make no mention of in their narrative, and we may well suppose they scarcely noticed them, for a sight more impressive and awe-inspiring soon after met their eyes, as they turned the crest of a ridge they had been climbing,--a full-fledged army stretched out before them, filling up the valley of Otumba, and giving it the appearance of being covered with snow, for the warriors were dressed in white cotton mail.

Cuitlahua had lost no time. As soon as he heard of the survival of the invader's army, he wasted not a moment. No puerile fear, no fatalistic paralysis restrained his understanding. Ably seconded by the warriors of the army, now roused to the importance of the occasion, he gathered a noble army. Every chief took the field with his whole force, and in a wonderfully short space of time a large army was collected and marched against the fugitives, having learned their course among the mountains.

The Spaniards were but a handful, and the few Tlaxcallans who were with them increased the force but little. Gathering themselves together, they dashed directly into the midst of the Aztec army, on their horses, with the intention of cutting themselves a path through the ranks. Flight, and not conquest, was their only thought. They were soon surrounded, but defended themselves desperately. Several hours had passed, when the chief of the army was seen advancing on a litter, richly dressed, with plumes upon his head, a mantle of feather-work, and the banner of Tenochtitlan floating from his shoulders. Around him, to protect his sacred person, were a body of young warriors, richly dressed. It was a shining mark, and Cortés sprang towards it on his charger. Coming down upon the prince, and overturning his bearers, he struck him through with his lance and threw him to the ground. One of his men sprang from the saddle, seized the banner, and gave it to Cortés quick as a flash. It was all over in a moment. A panic ensued. The whole Mexican army fled in confusion, convinced that they fought against odds too great, human skill against the power of the immortals.

The Spaniards followed up the flying army, killing right and left, and then returned to the battle-field to gather up booty from the rich costumes of the dead and wounded left upon the field. This was the famous battle of Otumba, one of the most extraordinary in history, fought on the 8th of July, 1520. This encounter at Otumba is regarded by Baudelier as grossly exaggerated. He reduces the number of the attacking army to a much smaller proportion, but does credit to the bravery of Cortés and his men. He considers the episode, the fall of the standard-bearer deciding the fight, as completely in accordance with Indian modes of warfare.

Whatever remained to tell the melancholy tale came back to the capital. The inhabitants were filled with their old terror, but Cuahtemoc retained his courage, and only made more vigorous exertions than before, seeing that his work was not only to restore the capital, but to prepare the country for another conflict. He collected great stores of corn in the warehouses, fortified all the places he considered exposed to attack, shattered the calzadas, or causeways, and got ready a large fleet of canoas. He worked with all diligence, for he was kept well informed of the proceedings of the enemy, and knew that Cortés had arrived safe within the boundaries of Tlaxcalla. And, indeed, before the end of the year the renewed attack began.

The distance from Otumba to Tlaxcalla was short, and the Spaniards were not further interrupted. The returned Tlaxcallans were received at home with great honors, and in spite of the disasters of the Spaniards, they remained faithful to the stranger. Cortés reposed among them, recovering from his own wounds, and giving his companions time to rest and refresh themselves. Meanwhile, he was forming new projects and drawing closer the bond of friendship with his hosts. The wise old Maxixcatzin, his first friend and constant supporter, died at that time, but the other Tlaxcallans continued their favor.

By December, only six months from his return to Tlaxcalla, Cortés had succeeded in making a new army of respectable proportion. Ixtlilxochitl now ruled undisturbed over the whole of Texcuco, after the death of his brothers, who had resisted the cause of the invaders. He was the fourteenth and last monarch of his country, of which he was the greatest enemy, fatal to it as well as to his own race and family. From the beginning a prudent ally of Cortés, after the retreat of the Spanish army to Texcuco, he sent him renewed offers of aid, and raised a large troop of soldiers for the invading army. Without them and other indigenous bands Cortés would have been badly off. Thus increased, his new army reached the reputed number of two hundred thousand men. With these he came to Texcuco, by two days' march, halting at a little village at the base of Iztaccíhuatl, the companion volcano of Popocatepetl, which, stretched like a corpse in its shroud of everlasting snow, bears the name of the White Woman. The Spanish army entered Texcuco on the last day of the year, December 31, 1520, and here was conducted to the palace of Nezahualpilli, a building spacious enough to accommodate all the Spaniards. The town, as on his first entrance at Tenochtitlan, was deserted, and Cortés learned that whole families were leaving in boats and by the mountain paths. A weaker heart might have sunk at the repetition of such intimations of dislike, but the Spanish conqueror's heart was inflexible. Ixtlilxochitl received him with all cordiality, and presented to him the body of fifty thousand men he had raised, a substantial gift, which was in itself encouraging.

It was a great advantage to Cortés to have Texcuco for his head-quarters. He had caused to be made in Tlaxcalla thirteen brigantines for crossing the lake. These were put together after his arrival and launched upon the water, through a little stream which had to be enlarged by the work of thousands of Indians, which led from the gardens of Nezahualcoyotl to the lake. These brigantines, constructed in part of the timbers of his own ships which he had left scuttled at Vera Cruz, supplemented by quantities of native canoas, made a respectable fleet. During these preparations Cortés was bringing the whole neighborhood into his control, either by conquest or negotiation. As we have seen, the Mexicans were by no means beloved by the smaller powers. It was not until the latter part of May, 1521, that the regular siege of the city of Mexico began. The first division of the army was given to the formidable Pedro de Alvarado, called by the Mexicans Tonatiah, which means the sun, or all powerful. The second division was assigned to Christobal de Olid, and the third to Gonzalo de Sandoval. These three were all his trusty companions, who had shown themselves from the first as daring, as enduring, as invincible as himself. Only in the characteristics of superior forethought, judgment, and tact did Cortés exceed them. To himself he reserved the conduct of the brigantines upon the lake.

The whole campaign against Mexico lasted eight months, while the siege proper was maintained for eighty days. The Spaniards attacked time and again with their artillery, and slew thousands of Mexicans. They penetrated even to the heart of the capital but were driven back. Cortés himself, and all his captains, ran several times great risk of being slain or taken prisoners. The native allies could not be, or were not, restrained from plundering and burning houses and killing men, women, and children.

Upon the lake the brigantines besides assisting the land attack, mastered and sank the canoes of the enemy in great numbers. The temples were burned; the new images of the gods, put in place since the first sack of the teocalli, were thrown down and hustled into the lake; whole streets were demolished, and with their ruins the canals were filled up.

Cortés made various propositions of peace to Cuahtemoc, but the brave young monarch, in spite of the hunger which reigned in the besieged city, the multitude of corpses heaped in the streets, although he saw before him the inevitable ruin of his kingdom, was unwilling to surrender until the supreme moment came when further resistance was impossible. On the 13th of August, 1521, Cuahtemoc was concealed in a _piragua_, or boat, leaving the attack, in order to command elsewhere. His presence there was suspected and the boat followed. Just as the pursuers were aiming their cross-bows, a young warrior, fully armed, rose and said, "I am Cuahtemoc, lead me to your chief." On landing, he was escorted to the presence of Cortés, who was stationed on an _azotca_ where he could survey the combat. Marina was by his side as interpreter. Cuahtemoc approached with a calm bearing and firm step, a noble, well-proportioned youth, it is said, with a complexion fair for one of his race. Without waiting to be addressed he said: "I have done my best to defend my people. Deal with me as you will," and touching the dagger in Cortés' belt, he added, "Despatch me at once, I beseech you."

The wife of the captive king was now sent for; she was one of the daughters of Montezuma, and of wonderful beauty it is said. The captive pair were treated with kindness, rest and refreshment offered to them.