His former vassals, on every hand, were sending envoys to the Spanish
camp to tender their allegiance to the crown of Castile, and to
attempt to secure the favor of the conqueror by rich gifts of gold
and of slaves. Montezuma made up his mind to send another embassy to
Cortés, the members of which were to impress upon him the fact that the
Emperor had nothing to do with the conspiracy at Cholula. The envoys
carried splendid presents of golden vessels and ornaments, including
artificial birds made in imitation of turkeys with their plumage worked
in gold, and also fifteen hundred robes of delicate cotton cloth. When
they spoke to Cortés they told him that Montezuma had no knowledge
of the plot to attack the Spaniards after they had left the town of
Cholula and that the Aztec force had been sent there, not to assist
in annihilating the Spaniards, but to quell a disturbance in the
neighborhood.
Cortés, who was not fooled by this series of lies by Montezuma,
remained quietly in the confines of Cholula. He restored the city again
to order, seized upon the great temple, or _teocalli_, of which all the
woodwork had been burned, and built a church out of the stones which
remained. He also opened the cages in which hundreds of captives were
kept until the day should come when they were to be sacrificed. After
this had been done, he called up the chiefs of his Tlascalan allies,
told them that the armies would now march toward the City of Mexico,
and, upon the day following, set his own troops in motion.
He moved slowly, and soon was met by another embassy from the Emperor,
consisting of several Aztec noblemen who brought a rich gift, indeed,
and also a message from the trembling Montezuma to the effect that he
would give four loads of gold to the General, each year, and one load
to each of his Captains, if he would turn back from the city and would
leave him alone. Cortés was surprised at this show of weakness and also
pleased that the Aztec sovereign did not attack him. He replied that
he could not return to the King of Spain without first visiting the
Emperor at his capital.
“We Spaniards,” said he, “are advancing in a spirit of peace, and wish
to be courteously received. If, after a short stay, you find our visit
burdensome, it is very easy for you to notify us that our presence in
your beautiful city is no longer desired.”
The ambassador reported this answer to Montezuma, who called a council
of his chief advisors to determine what was now to be done. A great
difference of opinion arose. Cacama, the Emperor’s nephew, counseled
him to receive the Spaniards courteously, as the ambassadors of a
foreign prince; while his brother, Cuilahua, urged him to muster all
his fighting men and to drive back the invaders, or die in the defense
of his capital.
Torn with doubt and distress, the Emperor did not know which way to
turn. It would not have been impossible to strike the invaders with his
warriors, but Montezuma feared these white-skinned travelers as he had
never before feared any enemy.
“Of what avail is resistance,” said he, “when the gods have declared
themselves against us? I must face the storm as best I may. I see my
empire crumbling to dust before these invaders, and I am prepared to
fight only when I see that I cannot rid myself of them by peaceful
means.”
Thus, trusting that he would eventually free himself from this menacing
band, Montezuma awaited the entry of the Spaniards into the city.
The followers of Cortés, with their Tlascalan allies, now marched
along the southern shores of Lake Chalco, through forests of
strange-looking trees, such as they had never seen before, and orchards
growing with unknown fruits. At length they came to a great dike, or
causeway, four or five miles in length, which divided Lake Chalco, from
Xochicalco, on the west. It was sufficiently wide, in some parts, for
eight horsemen to ride abreast; and was solidly built of stone and of
lime. At its narrowest part it was only a lance’s length in breadth.
From the causeway the army descended upon a narrow point which lay
between the two lakes, and, quickly crossing over this, reached the
royal residence at Iztapalapan, a place governed by Montezuma’s
brother. Here Cortés was presented with gifts of gold and costly
stuffs, and then the Spaniards were led into the gorgeous halls of
the palace, the roof of which was of odorous cedar wood, while the
stone walls were hung with brilliant tapestries. Here, also, the army
rested for an entire night, ready and prepared for the advance upon the
following morning into the sacred precincts ruled over by Montezuma.
Day dawned. As the sharp tones of the bugle woke the echoes in the
quaint Aztec village, the Spanish adventurers bestirred themselves,
formed in line of march, and followed by the dark horde of Tlascalan
warriors, advanced upon the capital. Cortés’ force was not more than
seven thousand in all, and of this number less than four hundred were
Spaniards. The adventure seemed foolhardy indeed. How could four
hundred Spaniards hope to conquer an entire country?
At the distance of half a mile from the capital the invaders
encountered a solid fortification, like a great curtain of stone, which
was built across the dike. It was twelve feet high, and had a tower
on each end; in the center was a battlement-gateway through which the
troops passed. This was the fort of Xoloc, and here the Spaniards were
met by several hundred Aztec chiefs. After the usual salutations, the
march was resumed, and the army reached a wooden drawbridge which
crossed an opening in the dike. As the soldiers left it, they realized
that they were in the power of Montezuma, for, had he so wished, he
could cut them off from communication with the country, and hold them
prisoners in his capital.
But now the Emperor Montezuma, himself, approached. A crowd of Indian
nobles surrounded him, and he was preceded by his officers of state,
bearing golden wands. Reclining upon the royal palanquin, blazing
with burnished gold, he was borne aloft by four attendants, who were
barefooted, and who walked with a slow, measured pace, their eyes bent
upon the ground. Montezuma wore a square cloak of the finest cotton, on
his feet were sandals with soles of gold, and both cloak and sandals
were sprinkled with pearls and with precious stones. On his head was a
plume of royal green feathers, the badge of his military rank. He was
at this time about forty years of age, was tall and thin, and lighter
in color than most of his countrymen.
The Emperor received Cortés with princely courtesy, and appointed his
brother to conduct the Spaniards to their quarters. The adventurers
followed their guide, and, with colors flying and with music playing,
entered the southern portion of the Aztec capital. As they proceeded,
they crossed many bridges which spanned the canals, and at length
halted in a wide, open space, near the center of the city and close to
the temple of the war god. Here were a number of low, stone buildings,
once a palace belonging to the Emperor’s father, but now to become the
lodging of the Spaniards.
After a rapid survey the General assigned the troops to their
respective quarters. He planted his cannon so as to command the
approaches to the palace, stationed sentinels along the walls, and
ordered that no soldier should leave his quarters under pain of death.
When all these precautions had been taken, he allowed his men to enjoy
the banquet prepared for them.
Not long after this, Montezuma came to visit the fair-skinned
strangers, and was received with great courtesy by Cortés, who had the
faithful Marina to interpret for him. The Emperor made many inquiries
concerning the country of the Spaniards, and particularly asked why
Cortés and his men had visited Mexico.
“We have desired to see you,” answered the General, “and to declare to
you the true faith which we, as Christians, believe. We think that your
own worship is most pernicious, and we do not approve of the many human
sacrifices which you are continually making to your gods. We therefore
pray that you give up the worship of idols, adopt the faith of Jesus
Christ, and cease to tear out the hearts of poor human beings as a
sacrifice in your temples.”
The Emperor smiled at the reference to the ancient customs of the
Aztecs, and made many inquiries concerning the rank of the cavaliers in
their own country and their positions in the army. He then commanded a
gift of cotton robes to be distributed among the Spaniards and their
Tlascalan allies, and returned to his own palace. When he had departed,
Cortés ordered a general discharge of his artillery, so as to impress
the natives with his power. The noise of the guns and the smoke filled
the Aztecs with alarm and dismay, and put them in great fear of these
strangers from another country.
Cortés had several other audiences with the Aztec ruler, who seemed to
wish to treat these adventurers with kindness and consideration; but
the Spanish general was harassed by many doubts. He was in the heart of
a great capital, with dikes and drawbridges on every side, which might
be converted into serious obstacles against him and his men, should
the Aztecs determine to crush the small Spanish army. At a nod from
the mighty Montezuma all communication with the rest of the country
would be cut off, and the whole population would be immediately hurled
upon him and his handful of followers. Against such odds, of what
avail would be his armor, his muskets, and his cannon? Montezuma had a
thousand warriors to his one. His best policy, therefore, seemed to be
to keep up the superstitious reverence in which he seemed to be held
by both the Emperor and his people, and to find out all that he could
about the city and its inhabitants. Then, should the opportunity occur,
he would seize the chief power for himself.
Next day the General asked the Emperor’s permission to visit the
principal public buildings and received a willing assent. Putting
himself at the head of his cavalry, and, followed by nearly all of his
foot soldiers, he set out, under the guidance of several caciques, to
view more closely what he had only seen at a distance. He was led to
the great _teocalli_ of the god of war, Huitzilopochtli, which stood
in an open court surrounded by a wall of stone and lime, about eight
feet high, and ornamented by raised figures of serpents, so that it was
called the “wall of serpents.” It was pierced by huge gateways, opening
upon the four principal streets of the city, and over each gate was an
arsenal filled with arms and other warlike gear.
The Spanish visitors climbed up the flights of steps and reached the
great paved space at the summit, where was a huge, round stone upon
which the victims were stretched before their hearts were cut out to
propitiate the feelings of the great god. At the other end of the
platform stood two towers, each three stories in height, in which were
the images of the gods.
Montezuma came forward to receive Cortés and conducted him into the
first tower, at the end of which, in a huge recess, stood a colossal
stone image of Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. In his right hand he
held a bow: in his left a bunch of golden arrows. The second sanctuary
was dedicated to Tezcatlepoco, who was believed to have created the
earth and to watch over it. He was represented as a young man, although
his image was made of polished, black stone, garnished with gold plates
and with ornaments. A shield, burnished like a mirror, was upon one
arm; and in this was supposed to be reflected the doings of the world.
On descending again to the courtyard, the cavaliers took a careful look
at the other buildings in the inclosure, and saw, to their horror, a
great mound with a timber framework upon its summit, along which were
strung hundreds of thousands of skulls: those of the many victims which
had been sacrificed. The rest of the space was filled with schools,
granaries and gardens. Several fountains, spouting crystal streams
of water, played gracefully in the clear air. It was a combination
of barbarism and civilization which was quite characteristic of the
Mexican people.
Upon the day following, the Spaniards asked permission to convert one
of the halls in their palace into a chapel where they could hold the
services of their church, and Montezuma readily granted their request.
While the work was in progress, a young cavalier discovered what
seemed to be a door which had only recently been plastered over. There
was a rumor that Montezuma kept the treasures of his father in this
place, so, to satisfy their eager curiosity, the plaster was knocked
away. Sure enough, a doorway was beyond the plaster, and, pushing this
aside, a great hall was disclosed, filled with all manner of rich and
beautiful stuffs. There were also much gold and silver in bars, and
many jewels of inestimable value. Some thought that all the riches in
the world were in that room. Afraid to touch it, then, by command of
the General, the wall was again built up, and strict orders were given
that the discovery must be kept a profound secret.
Time was passing and Cortés grew somewhat worried over his position.
Some of his officers were for an immediate retreat. Some, and these
were in the majority, were well satisfied with the plan which their
General now disclosed to them, which was: to march to the royal palace,
and by persuasion, or force, to induce Montezuma to take up his abode
in the Spanish quarters. When they had taken possession of his person,
it would be easy to rule in his name, until they had made their
position secure. Then, too, reënforcements might reach them at any time.
An excuse soon offered itself, for two of the Spaniards were
treacherously murdered by the Aztecs, when upon a journey to Vera Cruz,
and this was sufficient pretext to seize the person of the Emperor.
Having asked for an audience with Montezuma, which was granted, the
Spanish adventurer immediately made the necessary arrangements for
this hazardous enterprise. The principal part of his force was drawn
up in the courtyard, next day, but one detachment was stationed in the
avenue leading to the palace, so that no rescue could be attempted by
the citizens. Twenty-five or thirty soldiers were ordered to drop into
the palace by twos and by threes, as if accidentally, and Cortés was
accompanied by five cavaliers upon whose courage and coolness he could
perfectly rely. All were in full mail and were armed to the teeth.
Montezuma seemed to be in great good spirits when the Spaniards
arrived, and paid Cortés the compliment of offering him one of his
daughters in marriage; an honor which the general most respectfully
declined, because of the fact that he already had one wife. Not long
after this he saw that all of his soldiers were ready, and, turning to
Montezuma, asked him why the Aztecs had murdered his two soldiers at
Vera Cruz. The Emperor listened to him with great surprise, and said
that such an act had never been by his direction.
“I care not whether you ordered this massacre or not,” replied Cortés,
“this native chief, Quanhpopoca, whose men killed my soldiers, must be
sent for at once, so that I may deal with him as he deserves.”
Montezuma agreed to this, and, taking his royal signet ring from his
finger, gave it to one of his nobles, with orders to show it to the
Aztec governor and require his immediate presence in the capital. In
case he resisted, the bearer was to call in the aid of the neighboring
towns and their fighting men.
The messenger had soon disappeared, and Cortés assured the smiling
Montezuma that he was now perfectly convinced of his innocence in the
matter, but that it was quite necessary that his own sovereign should
be assured of it. Nothing could therefore be better than that Montezuma
should transfer his residence to the palace occupied by the Spaniards,
as this would show a personal regard for the Spanish monarch which
would free him from all suspicion.
To this proposal Montezuma listened with the greatest amazement, and
then exclaimed, with resentment and offended dignity:
“When was it that a great prince like myself willingly left his own
palace to become a prisoner in the hands of strangers?”
“You will not go as a prisoner,” replied the artful Cortés, “but will
simply be changing your residence.”
“If I should consent to such a degradation,” cried Montezuma,
wrathfully, “my subjects never would.”
But Cortés was obdurate and insisted that the Aztec should go, in spite
of the fact that the Emperor offered him one of his sons and two of his
daughters as hostages, so that he might be spared this disgrace. Thus
two hours passed by in a fruitless discussion.
Finally Velasquez de Leon, one of the cavaliers, who was impatient at
the long delay, cried out in loud tones:
“Why do we waste words on this barbarian? Let us seize him, and, if he
resists, let us plunge our swords into his body!”
The fierce tones of the man in armor, coupled with his menacing
gesture, alarmed Montezuma, who asked Marina what the angry Spaniard
had remarked. The Mexican girl explained, as gently as she could, what
had been said, then besought him to accompany the white men, who would
surely treat him with respect and kindness.
“If you refuse,” she whispered, “you will, perhaps, be killed.”
As she said this, the Emperor shuddered, and, looking around for some
sympathetic glance, saw only the stern faces and mail-clad forms of
the Spaniards. He felt that, should he refuse, he would be immediately
dispatched.
“I will go with you, Malinche,” said he, in a scarcely audible voice.
“Bring forward the royal litter!”
As the Aztec retinue marched dejectedly down the avenue to the Spanish
quarters, the people crowded together, crying out that Montezuma had
been carried off by force.
“Disperse, subjects!” cried the Emperor. “I am visiting my friends of
my own accord.”
The crowd remained quiet, and, on reaching the Spanish quarters,
Montezuma sent out his nobles to the mob with similar assurances, and
bade them all return to their homes.
The Spaniards received him with great respect and allowed him to choose
his own apartments, which were speedily furnished with tapestry,
feather-work, and all other Indian luxuries. Yet it was only too clear
to the Aztecs themselves that their honored Emperor was a prisoner, as
by day and night the palace was guarded by sixty sentinels, both in
the front and in the rear, while yet another body was stationed in the
royal antechamber.
In a day or two, the native chief, Quanhpopoca, arrived from the
coast. He was asked by Cortés why he had made an attack upon his
soldiers, and, as he could make no satisfactory reply, was immediately
condemned to be burned to death. Montezuma made no objection to this,
so a funeral pile was erected in the courtyard before the palace, and
upon this the chief and his attendants were burned. Just before the
execution took place, Cortés entered the Emperor’s apartment, followed
by a soldier bearing fetters in his hands. The Spanish general accused
Montezuma of having been the instigator of this treacherous deed, and
said that a crime which merited death in a subject, must be likewise
atoned for by a king. With this, he ordered the soldier to fasten the
fetters upon Montezuma’s ankles, and, after coolly waiting until this
was done, turned his back upon the outraged Aztec Emperor, and quitted
the room.
After the execution was over Cortés came in and unclasped the irons
with his own hands. Montezuma thanked him as if he had received some
great and unmerited favor.
Not long after this the Spanish commander told Montezuma that he could
return to his own quarters. But the Emperor declined to go back, for,
realizing how his conduct must be viewed by the great nobles of his
Empire, he decided that his life was safer with the Spaniards than with
them. Although he had thus resigned himself, without a fight, to a
life of captivity, some of his kinsmen were determined to rescue their
Emperor from the clutches of these fair-skinned invaders. His nephew,
Cacama, lord of the Tezcuco, was especially incensed at the method by
which Montezuma had been stolen, and tried to stir up the Aztecs to
make an attack upon the Spanish robbers. Actuated by jealousy, the
other nobles refused to join Cacama, declaring themselves unwilling to
do anything without the Emperor’s sanction.
Cortés heard of this, and wished to march at once upon Tezcuco, in
order to stamp out the spark of rebellion, but Montezuma persuaded
him to get hold of Cacama personally, and to make away with him.
Cacama was enticed into a villa overhanging the lake, where he was
overpowered, forced into a boat, and speedily brought to Mexico City.
Here he was fettered and imprisoned. His kingdom was given to his
brother,—a mere boy,—to reign in his stead.
Now Cortés felt himself powerful enough to demand that Montezuma and
all his nobles should formally swear allegiance to the King and Queen
of Spain. He accordingly requested the Emperor to call together his
principal caciques, and, when they were gathered together, Montezuma
addressed them as follows:
“You all know, O caciques, our ancient tradition, how the Great Being
who once ruled over the land, declared that he would one day return and
reign again. That time has now arrived. The white men have come from
the land beyond the sea, sent by their master to reclaim the obedience
of his ancient subjects. I am ready, for my part, to acknowledge his
authority. You have been faithful vassals of mine all through the
years that I have sat upon the throne of my father; I now expect that
you will show me a last act of obedience, by acknowledging the great
King beyond the waters to be your lord also, and that you will pay him
tribute as you have hitherto done to me.”
As he spoke, the tears fell fast down his cheeks, and his nobles were
deeply affected by the sight of his distress. Many of these fierce
fighting-men had come from a great distance, and had no idea of what
was going on in the capital. Hence they were filled with astonishment
at seeing the voluntary submission of their master to this mere
handful of Spanish soldiers. They had always reverenced him as their
all powerful lord, and, therefore, were willing to obey him and to
swear allegiance to the white men’s sovereign. Accordingly the oaths
were administered, with due solemnity, and a full record of these
proceedings was drawn up by the royal notary to be sent to Spain.
The Spanish explorer had now gained the greatest object of the
expedition, but in the conversion of the natives to Christianity he
seemed to have made little progress, and the horrible sacrifices, where
human hearts were torn from the breasts of captives, were occurring
every day. What could be done? With the blatant disregard for the
sentiments of the natives that had always characterized his actions,
Cortés determined to hold the services of the church in the temple of
the great god, Huitzilopochtli, and notified Montezuma to this effect.
The Emperor listened in great consternation.
“Malinche,” said he, “why will you push matters to an extremity that
will surely bring down the vengeance of our gods and stir up an
insurrection amongst my people? They will never endure this profanation
of their temple. Do not attempt to destroy their gods, for, if you do
so, you will be driven from the land by the enfuriated populace.”
In spite of what the weak-minded ruler had said, Cortés decided to hold
the services of the church in one of the sanctuaries of the famous
temple, which was dedicated to the fearful god of war. Consequently,
the whole army moved, one day, in a solemn procession up the winding
ascent to the pyramid, and mass was celebrated by Father Almedo. The
Aztecs crowded around in order to view this ceremony, and looked on
with repugnance plainly showing in their dark faces.
As Montezuma had prophesied, the Mexican people were greatly outraged
by this profanation of their temple, and many conferences now took
place between the Emperor and the nobles. After several weeks, Cortés
received a summons to appear before the Aztec chief, who said, in
rather apologetic tones:
“What I told you in connection with the insult to our gods has come to
pass. The gods are offended and they threaten to forsake our city if
you and your men are not driven from it. If you regard your safety, you
will leave the country without delay. I have only to lift my finger and
every Aztec in the land will rise against you.”
“I shall greatly regret to say good-bye to your capital,” Cortés
answered. “I cannot leave your country, for I have no ships in which to
sail. Besides, if I am driven out, I shall have to take you with me.”