SCARCELY was the victory won, when a courier arrived in hot haste from
Alvarado. The Mexicans had risen in the capital; two brigantines, which
Cortes had built to command the lake, were destroyed,--seven Spaniards
had been killed,--and Alvarado was now closely besieged in his quarters.
Cortes was greatly startled by these sad tidings. He knew that the force
of Alvarado, though brave, was small, and instantly commenced
preparations for his departure. In the midst of these, two other
messengers arrived, heaping curses upon Alvarado, declaring that his
rashness and folly alone had brought about this disaster.
It seems that Cortes had scarcely left Mexico, when the inhabitants of
that city began to think of attacking his countrymen. They knew that he
was the great leader of true Spaniards, and thought that during his
absence they might rescue Montezuma, and revenge themselves thoroughly.
Many secret meetings had been held by them for the purpose of completing
their plans, and all was nearly ripe for action, when the Spaniards
discovered the plot. They were all greatly enraged: none more so than
their leader Alvarado. Still they behaved prudently; and, but
for the hasty violence of Alvarado, all might for some time have
been kept quiet. The principal festival of the Mexicans (that of
_Huitzilopochtli_, the god of war) came on just at this time. At this
festival, which was always celebrated with great magnificence, it was
customary for the King, the nobles, the priests, and the people, to join
in certain dances. The nobles, having requested Alvarado to allow
Montezuma to join them, and been refused, prepared now to keep the
festival without him. The Mexicans had all assembled in the large court
of the great temple, the dancing and singing had commenced, when
Alvarado (thinking this a fit occasion for striking terror in the hearts
of the conspirators) ordered his soldiers out, and rushed furiously upon
them. So sudden was the attack, that numbers of the Indians were at once
massacred. In a little time, however, they rallied, and prepared for a
desperate revenge. Nothing could now restrain them; not even the thought
of what might befall Montezuma could allay their fury. They rushed upon
the Spanish quarters, battering the walls, and destroying most of their
ammunition. Alvarado and his little force made a gallant resistance, and
were still making it, but were now fairly besieged, and had before them
every prospect of perishing, either by war or famine.
Cortes hurried his preparations, and all was soon ready. He made an
oration to the followers of Narvaez, to inspire them with courage, and
then intrusting Narvaez and Salvatierra to the keeping of Rodrigo
Ranzel, whom he appointed his lieutenant at Villa Rica, set out on his
rapid march for Mexico. At Tlascala he was joined by two thousand
warriors, and he now felt strong enough to curb the fury of the
Mexicans. He passed on rapidly to Tezcuco; but scarcely had he entered
the Mexican territories, when he saw at once many signs of Mexican
feeling. No welcome met him as usual in any of the towns through which
he passed: they all seemed deserted; nor was any provision made anywhere
for the comfort of himself or his army. He was unmolested, however, in
his march, and at length, on the 24th of June, 1520, again entered
Mexico. Here, again, no one came forward to meet him: a gloomy silence
seemed to reign through the city. Cortes felt assured now that
difficulties were before him; yet, strange to tell, his first act was
one of imprudence. When at length he reached Montezuma, and the King
would have complimented him on his victory over Narvaez, he turned away
from him with scorn. Perhaps he felt that he had force enough now to
carry his point at all hazards, or possibly he thought that Montezuma
was treacherous; that he was aiding the fury of his people. Alvarado was
instantly summoned before him, to give an account of all that had
happened. He declared that a priest and two nobles had informed him that
the Mexicans had entered into a plot to destroy the Spaniards; moreover,
that news had reached the capital that Cortes and his army had been
vanquished by Narvaez; that this had emboldened them: they were ripe for
action; to protect himself, he could make no delay, and therefore had
fallen upon them at the time of the festival. It is said that Cortes was
dissatisfied with this explanation. Still, this was no time for finding
fault: Alvarado and his companions were in trouble, and their only hope
of relief was through him. He was provoked at the boldness of the
Mexicans, and especially so when he found they furnished no supplies for
his army. He bore himself very haughtily toward the nobles wherever he
met them, and at length sent a very stern message to Montezuma,
commanding him immediately to supply his troops with provisions. This
message only roused the Mexicans the more; and from that moment they
commenced a war of indomitable hatred against all Spaniards.
Ere long, a Spanish soldier came rushing into the quarters, and fell
down, sinking with the loss of blood. This poor fellow had been sent by
Cortes, to bring to Mexico the daughter of Montezuma and other ladies
left at Tacuba, under the care of the Cacique. The enraged Mexicans had
attacked him on the causeway, and he had escaped only by the most
desperate exertions. He declared that the whole country was in arms, and
that multitudes from all quarters were moving toward Mexico. Cortes
immediately sent out Diego de Ordaz, with four hundred men, to
reconnoitre. These Spaniards had scarcely moved into the streets, when
they were attacked with showers of arrows, while the air was filled with
the loud curses and threats of the Mexicans. “Every man of them should
be sacrificed to the gods: not one Spaniard should escape; and every
Tlascalan should share the same fate.” The streets were filled with the
phrensied multitude, while, from the tops of the houses and temples,
darts, stones, and arrows, were poured upon the Spaniards. Ordaz found
that he could neither move forward nor readily retreat; he was
completely hemmed in by the throng. His courage, however, did not
forsake him; with a desperate energy, he fought his way back to the
Spanish quarters, twenty-three of his men having been killed, and a
large number wounded. This success only emboldened the Mexicans. The
next day they came in vast numbers to attack the Spanish quarters. A
wild madness seemed to possess them. The artillery was at once brought
to bear upon them, and, though masses were swept down in the streets at
every volley, the places of the dead were instantly supplied by others;
there seemed no end to their numbers. Twice they came near forcing an
entrance into the quarters. Disappointed in this, they at length set
fire to them, and the Spaniards were enabled to stop the flames only by
throwing down one of the walls to extinguish them.
Another difficulty now presented itself, in the disaffection of the
soldiers of Narvaez. They were startled by the threats and fury of the
Mexicans; they had followed Cortes, not expecting such disasters, and
began now to murmur loudly. It was no time to listen to their
complaints. To inspire them with confidence, Cortes resolved upon a bold
effort. With a handful of men, he made in person a desperate sally upon
the enemy; but, in spite of his bravery, was forced to retreat, leaving
ten of his men dead in the streets, and about fifty wounded. His
energies, however, increased with his difficulties. He resolved upon
another attack. Perceiving that his men suffered most from the darts and
arrows thrown from the roofs of the houses, he caused them to make four
machines, called _mantas_. These machines were made of strong timbers,
covered with a roof, and moved on wheels. Each one could carry about
thirty soldiers. Thus prepared, he again sallied out at the head of most
of the Spaniards and two thousand Tlascalans. The Indians hailed them as
usual with shouts of fury and defiance, pouring in upon them clouds of
arrows. Expecting this attack, they had prepared to annoy the Spaniards
in every way. In some places, the streets were blocked up to prevent
their passage; in others, the bridges that crossed the canals in the
city were broken down; and while the Spaniards were stopped from time to
time by these obstacles, they assailed them furiously from the streets,
the canals, the roofs and windows of the houses. As for the _mantas_,
they afforded but little protection, for the ingenuity of the Indians
soon destroyed them. From the tops of the houses they hurled down
immense stones and broke them to pieces. The priests were in the midst,
inflaming the people; the nobles, by their example, urged them on, and
they fought desperately. The battle was waged fiercely on both sides
through the whole day. Worn out at last by the continued attacks carried
on from the houses, Cortes ordered his men to fire the city. Several
houses were soon burnt to the ground, and he now retreated to the
Spanish quarters as rapidly as possible. It was a sad day to both
parties. Multitudes of the Mexicans were slaughtered, while forty
Spaniards were slain, and a large number wounded. Cortes was himself
badly wounded in the hand in this conflict.
Cortes now felt that his position was most dangerous. He could neither
conquer nor make terms of peace, nor hope for a quiet retreat. To
attempt a retreat from the capital was all that seemed left to him: to
remain where he was, was courting almost certain death by war or famine;
and yet he could not brook the thought of being anything but a
conqueror, after all his toils and struggles. Fortunately, at this time
he had a prospect of relief from Montezuma. It is said that, from one of
the towers, the King had looked out upon the conflict in the city. He
had marked the fierce spirit of the Spaniards, led on by Cortes, and the
desperate resistance of the Mexican troops, headed by his brother, the
lord of Iztapalapan. The sight moved him to tears. He felt that his city
was in ruins, whoever might be conqueror. Troubled with his distress,
after a sleepless night he sought Cortes, and implored him to stop the
havoc by leaving the city. It required but little persuasion to bring
Cortes to a decision. He promised the King that he would go, if he would
insure him a peaceable departure, and, for this purpose, demanded that
the Mexicans should lay down their arms: and Montezuma as readily
agreed to use his authority to induce them to do so.[11]
Accordingly, on the next day, when the infuriated Mexicans again
attacked the Spanish quarters, Montezuma resolved to show himself to
them, hoping thereby to calm their fury. Their attack was now
tremendous. It seemed impossible for the artillery to drive them back.
Some were scaling the walls, and some had actually forced their way into
the quarters, and were fighting hand to hand with the Spaniards, when
Montezuma, attired in his regal dress, and attended by some of his
nobles and a guard of Spanish soldiers, came out upon the battlements.
The moment he appeared, all was silence; some fell reverently upon their
knees. The King now spoke to them, beseeching them to desist, and
declaring that the Spaniards were ready to leave the city if they would
only allow them to pass out undisturbed. One of the nobles answered from
the crowd, that the war would soon be over, for they had all sworn that
no Spaniard should leave the city alive. Montezuma again implored them
to lay aside their arms, and used every argument to persuade them. All
was in vain. A murmur of discontent spread through the throng, and one
of the crowd cried out that the King was a coward. In a moment more, the
whole mass cursed and reproached him, and then came showers of stones
and arrows upon the ramparts. Before the Spaniards could shelter him,
Montezuma fell. A stone had struck him on the head, and he was wounded
in his arm and leg. The Mexicans were now horror-stricken at their own
deed; their stormy passions gave way to gloom and despair; they fled
from the spot in dismay.
The Spaniards bore the unfortunate King within, and Cortes caused his
wounds to be carefully dressed, and endeavored to console him. But
Montezuma refused all comfort. He seemed now as one waking from a dream.
The haughty and fierce spirit of his better days came back, and he
heaped heavy reproaches upon the Spanish chief. He felt that he was a
king; he knew that he was now degraded and disgraced, and he longed to
die. In a phrensy, he tore the bandages from his wounds, and refused to
take any nourishment whatever. Cortes, perceiving his end approaching,
now besought him to embrace the Christian religion. Alas! that Montezuma
had so poor a preacher of our blessed religion! Father Olmedo earnestly
implored him to receive Christian baptism, but all to no purpose.
Unbending to the last, he had but one fixed desire, and that was to die;
and at length, after three days of misery, he breathed his last, in a
raving passion, mourning over his fate, cursing the Spaniards, and
swearing vengeance against his people. Cortes immediately sent a
messenger to Prince Cuitlahuatzin, the successor to the throne, to
inform him of the death of Montezuma; and in a little time the body was
carried out by six nobles, and taken to a place called Copalco, amid the
loud lamentations of the Mexicans.
He now endeavored to make peace with the Mexicans, but all his efforts
failed. The Indians whom he sent as messengers with his terms refused to
return with any answer; but a distinct answer was soon made known by the
conduct of the people. The day after the funeral, they returned to their
attack upon the Spanish quarters more furiously than ever. The position
of Cortes was now well nigh desperate. Montezuma was dead, and there was
nothing to restrain the vengeance of the multitude. All hopes of peace
had passed away: his only hope was to escape from the city. Even this,
however, seemed cut off by the bold determination of the Indians. They
had taken possession of a tower on the principal temple, which
commanded a full view of the Spanish quarters. From this point they kept
so strict a watch, that it was almost certain death to a Spaniard to
move out. They knew the advantage of this post so well, that five
hundred of their picked warriors were stationed there. Cortes at once
saw that it was idle to hope to make his retreat so long as they kept
that station. It was absolutely necessary to dislodge them. Accordingly,
he sent Escobar out with a strong force for that purpose. More than one
gallant effort was made, but at length, after three several failures,
Escobar was forced to retreat to the quarters.
Cortes now felt that everything depended upon himself. His men were
doomed to perish, unless something could be done. Though suffering from
his wound, he determined upon another effort, and resolved to take the
command himself. At the head of his troops, he pressed toward the
temple. Barriers were placed in his way, stones and arrows were showered
upon him; still he pressed on. Unfortunately, when he reached the court
of the temple, he found that the cavalry, upon which he principally
relied, could not be used; the horses continually slipped, and fell upon
the pavement. The Indians annoyed them in every way. Together with their
arrows and darts, they hurled upon them burning beams of wood, which
threw them into great confusion. Cortes now dismounted, and ordering
his men to bind his shield to his wounded arm, rushed to the attack,
calling to them to follow him. His example inspired them. The Spaniards
rushed on with resistless force. Gradually working their way up the
steps, they at length reached the platform, and drove the Mexicans to
the upper area of the temple. Here the battle raged furiously for three
hours. The priests were there, calling frantically upon the gods, and
screaming to the people, and these contested every inch of the way with
the desperate Spaniards. The carnage was awful. The warriors were all
killed upon the spot, or destroyed themselves by leaping from the tower.
The nobles perished to a man. Cortes at last gained the tower, when
there was no living being to defend it. He instantly set fire to it, and
then commenced his retreat toward his quarters; but his retreat was one
continued battle. New multitudes thronged upon him in the lower area;
and when these were passed, he met with a furious attack in every street
and from every house. Every inch of ground was contested to and from the
temple; still in this retreat he managed, by a desperate effort, to
rescue his old friend Andres de Duero, whom the Mexicans had seized, and
were dragging away for a sacrifice. At length he reached his quarters,
every man being covered with blood, and sinking from exhaustion. An
uncounted number of the Tlascalans had fallen, forty-six Spaniards had
been killed, and every other Spaniard in the action had been
wounded.[12]
As soon as they had rested from this hard struggle, Cortes summoned his
officers, to consult as to the time and manner of their retreat. Some
advised that they should sally out boldly by day, when they could see
their enemies, and mark every danger. Others thought it best to make the
attempt under cover of the night, thinking to escape unobserved through
the darkness, and trusting to a superstition of the Mexicans, which
would not allow them to attack an enemy during the hours of repose. An
old soldier now came in, and pretending to be an astrologer, urged that
the attempt should be made by night. In a little time, it was settled
that they should start out at midnight. As the Mexicans had broken down
the bridges of the causeways to prevent their escape, Cortes at once
caused a portable bridge to be made, strong enough to allow his army and
all the baggage to pass the openings. He then commanded all the treasure
that had been collected to be brought forward, and separating the fifth
part which belonged to the King, left the rest for his men; at the same
time advising them not to load themselves with it, as it might prove
burdensome in their perilous retreat. He next ordered the plan of march.
The van of his army, consisting of two hundred of his best soldiers,
together with twenty horsemen, was placed under the command of Sandoval,
aided by Diego de Ordaz and Francisco Lugo. The rear, which contained
most of the Spanish troops, was intrusted to Pedro de Alvarado and
Velasquez de Leon. Cortes himself, aided by Christoval de Olid and
Davila, took charge of the centre, in which were placed the children of
Montezuma, and other prisoners of distinction, together with the
baggage, artillery, and portable bridge. The Tlascalans, Chempoallans,
and Cholulans, amounting to several thousands, were scattered among the
three divisions. To aid them at the time of their departure, the night
set in densely dark, with a thick fog, and heavy falls of rain. At
midnight, the van left the quarters, and the other divisions soon
followed. In deep silence they moved toward the causeway of Tacuba,
because that was known to be the shortest, and least frequented by the
Mexicans. They reached the first breach unmolested, and at once
commenced fixing their bridge for a passage.
Suddenly the air was filled with the loud yells of the Mexicans. They
had watched every movement. The priests sounded their horns, calling
their countrymen to battle: the lake was covered with a thousand canoes;
showers of stones and arrows were poured in upon the Spaniards from the
boats, while an immense number eagerly thronged the causeway to oppose
them. Unfortunately at this time, the bridge broke down under the heavy
weight of the baggage and artillery. Some of the Spaniards who had
gained the other side hurried to the second breach, while their poor
companions struggled to scramble across the horrid chasm, filled up now
with one confused heap of baggage, cannon, armor, and the bodies of the
dead and dying. All was confusion. The rain fell in torrents; the horses
plunged in every direction; both sides of the causeway were lined with
canoes, from which one continual attack was kept up; the Spaniards never
before had witnessed anything like it. The bellowing of the horses, and
the shrieks of the prisoners hurried away for sacrifice, filled the air:
all was an indescribable scene of horror. With fury and desperation,
many of the Spaniards fought their way over the dreadful gap, and
joined their companions at the second breach; while the largest number
were either killed on the spot, made prisoners, or drowned. At the
second breach, the conflict was the same. It was impossible to preserve
any order; friends and foes, soldiers and officers, horse and infantry,
men and women, were all struggling there in one wild scene of carnage
and horror. By a desperate exertion, Cortes, with some of his hardiest
veterans, forced his way across the remaining breaches, “the bodies of
the dead serving to fill up the ditches.” Having reached the firm land,
he left his slender force with Sandoval and Olid, who had managed to
escape with him, commanding them to keep in perfect order, to resist any
fresh attack, and then plunged back into the fight. His heart would not
allow him to leave his men in their deplorable condition. He passed and
repassed the last breaches more than once, sometimes swimming, sometimes
scrambling over the dead: here he would encourage some sinking man still
to fight; there he would pull some drowning man to the firm land, and
sometimes drag his captive comrades from the very hands of the enemy.
His daring struggles are almost incredible. The sufferings of his men
roused every energy; he risked every danger, and wonderful is it that he
was not added to the number of the slain. In spite of all his efforts,
however, the air still rang with the savage yells of the Mexicans, and
the piercing shrieks of the poor captives. It was impossible to rescue
all; he did all that man could do; he was heart-sick over his own
inability. Now he was joined by a small party, which he found belonged
to the rear division. These were Alvarado, bleeding freely, and scarcely
able to stand, eight Spaniards, and as many Tlascalans, all wounded and
covered with blood. Alvarado declared that these were all that remained
of the division intrusted to him: all the rest, officers as well as men,
and among them Velasquez de Leon, having been killed or made prisoners;
that when he came to the third breach, not being able to face the enemy
or to swim across, in an effort of despair he struck his lance in the
bottom of the ditch, and leaped to the other side. This effort saved
him.[13]
The dawn of the next day found the Spaniards at Popotla, near Tacuba,
and showed them more fully their misery. They lay scattered around at
random, wounded, exhausted, and disheartened. More than half the
Spaniards had perished, with four thousand of their allies. All the
ammunition, artillery, and baggage was lost, together with most of the
horses. No treasure whatever was saved; those soldiers who had
foolishly laden themselves with it having perished for their folly. Well
nigh all the Mexican prisoners had likewise perished; among them the
prince Cacamatzin, a brother, a son, and two daughters of Montezuma.
Velasquez de Leon, Francisco Morla, Francisco Sancedo, and Amador de
Lariz, with many other Spanish officers, were missing. The gallant De
Leon had been placed in command of the extreme detachment of the rear
division, and not even one man of his party was now to be found.
The scene touched the heart of Cortes; he who could brave every danger,
overcoming every fear, could not now overcome the feelings of a man. As
he looked upon the wretched remnant of his army, and thought of his
brave companions who were lost, his heart swelled with sorrow; he sat
down upon a stone, and the tears rolled down his face. The death of De
Leon was more than he could well bear. He was not only a gallant comrade
in arms, but a friend whose heart was ever true to Cortes. But greater
disasters were possibly before him; and while this thought added to his
misery, it taught him also the necessity of rousing his energies.
Alvarado, Sandoval, Olid, Ordaz, Davila, and Lugo, were still around
him; his faithful friends Doña Marina, Aguilar, and Father Olmedo, were
yet alive. These, with the poor soldiers, were looking to him as their
leader, and he felt the necessity of action. The country all around was
in arms against him; a shelter from their fury was to be found
immediately. He gathered his little force, and made a hurried march to
Otoncalpolco, a temple nine miles westward from Mexico. Here parties of
the enemy attacked him from time to time through the day, but by
watchfulness and courage he managed to drive them back. Still his
position was dangerous: if a large party should assault him, he could
not resist long. He longed to reach Tlascala, as his only safe
resting-place; yet it was far distant, and he knew that the Mexicans
were watching to waylay him. He was in great anxiety, hesitating what he
should do, when a Tlascalan came forward, and offered to conduct him to
his own country by a secret pathway.