CHAPTER VII

GUATEMOZIN, EMPEROR OF THE AZTECS--PREPARATIONS FOR THE

MARCH--MILITARY CODE--SPANIARDS CROSS THE SIERRA--ENTER

TEZCUCO--PRINCE IXTLILXOCHITL

1520

While the events related in the preceding chapter were passing, an

important change had taken place in the Aztec monarchy. Montezuma’s

brother and successor, Cuitlahua, had suddenly died of the smallpox,

after a brief reign of four months,--brief, but glorious, for it had

witnessed the overthrow of the Spaniards and their expulsion from

Mexico.[282] On the death of their warlike chief, the electors were

convened, as usual, to supply the vacant throne. It was an office of

great responsibility in the dark hour of their fortunes. The

_teoteuctli_, or high-priest, invoked the blessing of the supreme God on

their deliberations. His prayer is still extant. It was the last one

ever made on a similar occasion in Anahuac, and a few extracts from it

may interest the reader, as a specimen of Aztec eloquence:

“O Lord! thou knowest that the days of our sovereign are at an end, for

thou hast placed him beneath thy feet. He abides in the place of his

retreat; he has trodden the path which we are all to tread; he has gone

to the house whither we are all to follow,--the house of eternal

darkness, where no light cometh. He is gathered to his rest, and no one

henceforth shall disquiet him.... All these were the princes, his

predecessors, who sat on the imperial throne, directing the affairs of

thy kingdom; for thou art the universal lord and emperor, by whose will

and movement the whole world is directed; thou needest not the counsel

of another. They laid down the intolerable burden of government, and

left it to him, their successor. Yet he sojourned but a few days in his

kingdom,--but a few days had we enjoyed his presence, when thou

summonedst him away to follow those who had ruled over the land before

him. And great cause has he for thankfulness, that thou hast relieved

him from so grievous a load, and placed him in tranquillity and rest....

Who now shall order matters for the good of the people and the realm?

Who shall appoint the judges to administer justice to thy people? Who

now shall bid the drum and the flute to sound, and gather together the

veteran soldiers and the men mighty in battle? Our Lord and our

Defence! wilt thou, in thy wisdom, elect one who shall be worthy to sit

on the throne of thy kingdom; one who shall bear the grievous burden of

government; who shall comfort and cherish thy poor people, even as the

mother cherisheth her offspring?... O Lord most merciful! pour forth thy

light and thy splendor over this thine empire!... Order it so that thou

shalt be served in all, and through all.”[283]

The choice fell on Quauhtemotzin, or Guatemozin, as euphoniously

corrupted by the Spaniards.[284] He was nephew to the two last monarchs,

and married his cousin, the beautiful princess Tecuichpo, Montezuma’s

daughter. “He was not more than twenty-five years old, and elegant in

his person for an Indian,” says one who had seen him often; “valiant,

and so terrible that his followers trembled in his presence.”[285] He

did not shrink from the perilous post that was offered to him; and, as

he saw the tempest gathering darkly around, he prepared to meet it like

a man. Though young, he had ample experience in military matters, and

had distinguished himself above all others in the bloody conflicts of

the capital. He bore a sort of religious hatred to the Spaniards, like

that which Hannibal is said to have sworn, and which he certainly

cherished, against his Roman foes.

By means of his spies, Guatemozin made himself acquainted with the

movements of the Spaniards and their design to besiege the capital. He

prepared for it by sending away the useless part of the population,

while he called in his potent vassals from the neighborhood. He

continued the plans of his predecessor for strengthening the defences of

the city, reviewed his troops, and stimulated them by prizes to excel in

their exercises. He made harangues to his soldiers to rouse them to a

spirit of desperate resistance. He encouraged his vassals throughout the

empire to attack the white men wherever they were to be met with,

setting a price on their heads, as well as on the persons of all who

should be brought alive to him in Mexico.[286] And it was no uncommon

thing for the Spaniards to find hanging up in the temples of the

conquered places the arms and accoutrements of their unfortunate

countrymen who had been seized and sent to the capital for

sacrifice.[287] Such was the young monarch who was now called to the

tottering throne of the Aztecs; worthy, by his bold and magnanimous

nature, to sway the sceptre of his country in the most flourishing

period of her renown, and now, in her distress, devoting himself in the

true spirit of a patriot prince to uphold her falling fortunes or

bravely perish with them.[288]

We must now return to the Spaniards in Tlascala, where we left them

preparing to resume their march on Mexico. Their commander had the

satisfaction to see his troops tolerably complete in their

appointments; varying, indeed, according to the condition of the

different reinforcements which had arrived from time to time, but, on

the whole, superior to those of the army with which he had first invaded

the country. His whole force fell little short of six hundred men; forty

of whom were cavalry, together with eighty arquebusiers and crossbowmen.

The rest were armed with sword and target, and with the copper-headed

pike of Chinantla. He had nine cannon of a moderate calibre, and was

indifferently supplied with powder.[289]

As his forces were drawn up in order of march, Cortés rode through the

ranks, exhorting his soldiers, as usual with him on these occasions, to

be true to themselves and the enterprise in which they were embarked. He

told them they were to march against _rebels_, who had once acknowledged

allegiance to the Spanish sovereign;[290] against barbarians, the

enemies of their religion. They were to fight the battles of the Cross

and of the crown; to fight their own battles, to wipe away the stain

from their arms, to avenge their injuries, and the loss of the dear

companions who had been butchered on the field or on the accursed altar

of sacrifice. Never was there a war which offered higher incentives to

the Christian cavalier; a war which opened to him riches and renown in

this life, and an imperishable glory in that to come.[291]

Thus did the politic chief touch all the secret springs of devotion,

honor, and ambition in the bosoms of his martial audience, waking the

mettle of the most sluggish before leading him on the perilous emprise.

They answered with acclamations that they were ready to die in defence

of the Faith, and would either conquer, or leave their bones with those

of their countrymen in the waters of the Tezcuco.

The army of the allies next passed in review before the general. It is

variously estimated by writers from a hundred and ten to a hundred and

fifty thousand soldiers! The palpable exaggeration, no less than the

discrepancy, shows that little reliance can be placed on any estimate.

It is certain, however, that it was a multitudinous array, consisting

not only of the flower of the Tlascalan warriors, but of those of

Cholula, Tepeaca, and the neighboring territories, which had submitted

to the Castilian crown.[292]

They were armed, after the Indian fashion, with bows and arrows, the

glassy _maquahuitl_, and the long pike, which formidable weapon Cortés,

as we have seen, had introduced among his own troops. They were divided

into battalions, each having its own banner, displaying the appropriate

arms or emblem of its company. The four great chiefs of the nation

marched in the van; three of them venerable for their years, and

showing, in the insignia which decorated their persons, the evidence of

many a glorious feat in arms. The panache of many-colored plumes floated

from their casques, set in emeralds or other precious stones. Their

_escaupil_, or stuffed doublet of cotton, was covered with the graceful

surcoat of feather-work, and their feet were protected by sandals

embossed with gold. Four young pages followed, bearing their weapons,

and four others supported as many standards, on which were emblazoned

the armorial bearings of the four great divisions of the republic.[293]

The Tlascalans, though frugal in the extreme, and rude in their way of

life, were as ambitious of display in their military attire as any of

the races on the plateau. As they defiled before Cortés, they saluted

him by waving their banners and by a flourish of their wild music, which

the general acknowledged by courteously raising his cap as they

passed.[294] The Tlascalan warriors, and especially the younger

Xicotencatl, their commander, affected to imitate their European

masters, not merely in their tactics, but in minuter matters of military

etiquette.

Cortés, with the aid of Marina, made a brief address to his Indian

allies. He reminded them that he was going to fight their battles

against their ancient enemies. He called on them to support him in a

manner worthy of their renowned republic. To those who remained at home,

he committed the charge of aiding in the completion of the brigantines,

on which the success of the expedition so much depended; and he

requested that none would follow his banner who were not prepared to

remain till the final reduction of the capital.[295] This address was

answered by shouts, or rather yells, of defiance, showing the exultation

felt by his Indian confederates at the prospect of at last avenging

their manifold wrongs and humbling their haughty enemy.

Before setting out on the expedition, Cortés published a code of

ordinances, as he terms them, or regulations for the army, too

remarkable to be passed over in silence. The preamble sets forth that in

all institutions, whether divine or human,--if the latter have any

worth,--order is the great law. The ancient chronicles inform us that

the greatest captains in past times owed their successes quite as much

to the wisdom of their ordinances as to their own valor and virtue. The

situation of the Spaniards eminently demanded such a code; a mere

handful of men as they were, in the midst of countless enemies, most

cunning in the management of their weapons and in the art of war. The

instrument then reminds the army that the conversion of the heathen is

the work most acceptable in the eye of the Almighty, and one that will

be sure to receive his support. It calls on every soldier to regard this

as the prime object of the expedition, _without which the war would be

manifestly unjust, and every acquisition made by it, a robbery_.[296]

The general solemnly protests that the principal motive which operates

in his own bosom is the desire to wean the natives from their gloomy

idolatry and to impart to them the knowledge of a purer faith; and next,

to recover for his master, the emperor, the dominions which of right

belong to him.[297]

The ordinances then prohibit all blasphemy against God or the saints; a

vice much more frequent among Catholic than Protestant nations, arising,

perhaps, less from difference of religion than of physical

temperament,--for the warm sun of the South, under which Catholicism

prevails, stimulates the sensibilities to the more violent expression of

passion.[298]

Another law is directed against gaming, to which the Spaniards, in all

ages, have been peculiarly addicted. Cortés, making allowance for the

strong national propensity, authorizes it under certain limitations, but

prohibits the use of dice altogether.[299] Then follow other laws

against brawls and private combats, against personal taunts and the

irritating sarcasms of rival companies; rules for the more perfect

discipline of the troops, whether in camp or the field. Among others is

one prohibiting any captain, under pain of death, from charging the

enemy without orders; a practice noticed as most pernicious and of too

frequent occurrence,--showing the impetuous spirit and want of true

military subordination in the bold cavaliers who followed the standard

of Cortés.

The last ordinance prohibits any man, officer or private, from securing

to his own use any of the booty taken from the enemy, whether it be

gold, silver, precious stones, feather-work, stuffs, slaves, or other

commodity, however or wherever obtained, in the city or in the field,

and requires him to bring it forthwith to the presence of the general,

or the officer appointed to receive it. The violation of this law was

punished with death and confiscation of property. So severe an edict

may be thought to prove that, however much the _Conquistador_ may have

been influenced by spiritual considerations, he was by no means

insensible to those of a temporal character.[300]

These provisions were not suffered to remain a dead letter. The Spanish

commander, soon after their proclamation, made an example of two of his

own slaves, whom he hanged for plundering the natives. A similar

sentence was passed on a soldier for the like offence, though he allowed

him to be cut down before the sentence was entirely executed. Cortés

knew well the character of his followers; rough and turbulent spirits,

who required to be ruled with an iron hand. Yet he was not eager to

assert his authority on light occasions. The intimacy into which they

were thrown by their peculiar situation, perils, and sufferings, in

which all equally shared, and a common interest in the adventure,

induced a familiarity between men and officers, most unfavorable to

military discipline. The general’s own manners, frank and liberal,

seemed to invite this freedom, which, on ordinary occasions, he made no

attempt to repress; perhaps finding it too difficult, or at least

impolitic, since it afforded a safety-valve for the spirits of a

licentious soldiery, that, if violently coerced, might have burst forth

into open mutiny. But the limits of his forbearance were clearly

defined; and any attempt to overstep them, or to violate the established

regulations of the camp, brought a sure and speedy punishment on the

offender. By thus tempering severity with indulgence, masking an iron

will under the open bearing of a soldier, Cortés established a control

over his band of bold and reckless adventurers, such as a pedantic

martinet, scrupulous in enforcing the minutiæ of military etiquette,

could never have obtained.

The ordinances, dated on the twenty-second of December, were proclaimed

to the assembled army on the twenty-sixth. Two days afterwards, the

troops were on their march, and Cortés, at the head of his battalions,

with colors flying and music playing, issued forth from the gates of the

republican capital, which had so generously received him in his

distress, and which now, for the second time, supplied him with the

means for consummating his great enterprise. The population of the city,

men, women, and children, hung on the rear of the army, taking a last

leave of their countrymen, and imploring the gods to crown their arms

with victory.

Notwithstanding the great force mustered by the Indian confederates, the

Spanish general allowed but a small part of them now to attend him. He

proposed to establish his headquarters at some place on the Tezcucan

lake, whence he could annoy the Aztec capital by reducing the

surrounding country, cutting off the supplies, and thus placing the city

in a state of blockade.[301]

The direct assault on Mexico itself he intended to postpone until the

arrival of the brigantines should enable him to make it with the

greatest advantage. Meanwhile, he had no desire to encumber himself with

a superfluous multitude, whom it would be difficult to feed; and he

preferred to leave them at Tlascala, whence they might convey the

vessels, when completed, to the camp, and aid him in his future

operations.

Three routes presented themselves to Cortés by which he might penetrate

into the Valley. He chose the most difficult, traversing the bold sierra

which divides the eastern plateau from the western, and so rough and

precipitous as to be scarcely practicable for the march of an army. He

wisely judged that he should be less likely to experience annoyance from

the enemy in this direction, as they might naturally confide in the

difficulties of the ground for their protection.

The first day, the troops advanced five or six leagues, Cortés riding in

the van, at the head of his little body of cavalry. They halted at the

village of Tetzmellocan, at the base of the mountain chain which

traverses the country, touching, at its southern limit, the mighty

Iztaccihuatl, or “White Woman,”--white with the snows of ages.[302] At

this village they met with a friendly reception, and on the following

morning began the ascent of the sierra.

The path was steep and exceedingly rough. Thick matted bushes covered

its surface, and the winter torrents had broken it into deep stony

channels, hardly practicable for the passage of artillery, while the

straggling branches of the trees, flung horizontally across the road,

made it equally difficult for cavalry. The cold, as they rose higher,

became intense. It was keenly felt by the Spaniards, accustomed of late

to a warm, or at least temperate, climate; though the extreme toil with

which they forced their way upward furnished the best means of resisting

the weather. The only vegetation to be seen in these higher regions was

the pine, dark forests of which clothed the sides of the mountains, till

even these dwindled into a thin and stunted growth. It was night before

the way-worn soldiers reached the bald crest of the sierra, where they

lost no time in kindling their fires; and, huddling round their

bivouacs, they warmed their frozen limbs and prepared their evening

repast.

With the earliest dawn, the troops were again in motion. Mass was said,

and they began their descent, more difficult and painful than their

ascent on the day preceding; for, in addition to the natural obstacles

of the road, they found it strewn with huge pieces of timber and trees,

obviously felled for the purpose by the natives. Cortés ordered up a

body of light troops to clear away the impediments, and the army again

resumed its march, but with the apprehension that the enemy had

prepared an ambuscade, to surprise them when they should be entangled in

the pass. They moved cautiously forward, straining their vision to

pierce the thick gloom of the forest, where the wily foe might be

lurking. But they saw no living thing, except only the wild inhabitants

of the woods, and flocks of the _zopilote_, the voracious vulture of the

country, which, in anticipation of a bloody banquet, hung, like a troop

of evil spirits, on the march of the army.

As they descended, the Spaniards felt a sensible and most welcome change

in the temperature. The character of the vegetation changed with it, and

the funereal pine, their only companion of late, gave way to the sturdy

oak, to the sycamore, and, lower down, to the graceful pepper-tree

mingling its red berry with the dark foliage of the forest; while, in

still lower depths, the gaudy-colored creepers might be seen flinging

their gay blossoms over the branches and telling of a softer and more

luxurious climate.

At length the army emerged on an open level, where the eye, unobstructed

by intervening wood or hill-top, could range, far and wide, over the

Valley of Mexico. There it lay bathed in the golden sunshine, stretched

out, as it were, in slumber, in the arms of the giant hills which

clustered, like a phalanx of guardian genii, around it. The magnificent

vision, new to many of the spectators, filled them with rapture. Even

the veterans of Cortés could not withhold their admiration, though this

was soon followed by a bitter feeling, as they recalled the sufferings

which had befallen them within these beautiful but treacherous

precincts. It made us feel, says the lion-hearted Conqueror, in his

Letters, that “we had no choice but victory or death; and, our minds

once resolved, we moved forward with as light a step as if we had been

going on an errand of certain pleasure.”[303]

As the Spaniards advanced, they beheld the neighboring hill-tops blazing

with beacon-fires showing that the country was already alarmed and

mustering to oppose them. The general called on his men to be mindful of

their high reputation; to move in order, closing up their ranks, and to

obey implicitly the commands of their officers.[304] At every turn among

the hills, they expected to meet the forces of the enemy drawn up to

dispute their passage. And, as they were allowed to pass the defiles

unmolested, and drew near to the open plains, they were prepared to see

them occupied by a formidable host, who would compel them to fight over

again the battle of Otumba. But, although clouds of dusky warriors were

seen, from time to time, hovering on the highlands, as if watching their

progress, they experienced no interruption till they reached a

_barranca_, or deep ravine, through which flowed a little river, crossed

by a bridge partly demolished. On the opposite side a considerable body

of Indians was stationed, as if to dispute the passage; but, whether

distrusting their own numbers, or intimidated by the steady advance of

the Spaniards, they offered them no annoyance, and were quickly

dispersed by a few resolute charges of cavalry. The army then proceeded,

without molestation, to a small town, called Coatepec, where they halted

for the night. Before retiring to his own quarters, Cortés made the

rounds of the camp, with a few trusty followers, to see that all was

safe.[305] He seemed to have an eye that never slumbered, and a frame

incapable of fatigue. It was the indomitable spirit within, which

sustained him.[306]

Yet he may well have been kept awake through the watches of the night,

by anxiety and doubt. He was now but three leagues from Tezcuco, the

far-famed capital of the Acolhuans. He proposed to establish his

headquarters, if possible, at this place. Its numerous dwellings would

afford ample accommodations for his army. An easy communication with

Tlascala, by a different route from that which he had traversed, would

furnish him with the means of readily obtaining supplies from that

friendly country, and for the safe transportation of the brigantines,

when finished, to be launched on the waters of the Tezcuco. But he had

good reason to distrust the reception he should meet with in the

capital; for an important revolution had taken place there since the

expulsion of the Spaniards from Mexico, of which it will be necessary to

give some account.

The reader will remember that the cacique of that place, named Cacama,

was deposed by Cortés, during his first residence in the Aztec

metropolis, in consequence of a projected revolt against the Spaniards,

and that the crown had been placed on the head of a younger brother,

Cuicuitzca. The deposed prince was among the prisoners carried away by

Cortés, and perished with the others, in the terrible passage of the

causeway, on the _noche triste_. His brother, afraid, probably, after

the flight of the Spaniards, of continuing with his own vassals, whose

sympathies were altogether with the Aztecs, accompanied his friends in

their retreat, and was so fortunate as to reach Tlascala in safety.

Meanwhile, a second son of Nezahualpilli, named Coanaco, claimed the

crown, on his elder brother’s death, as his own rightful inheritance. As

he heartily joined his countrymen and the Aztecs in their detestation of

the white men, his claims were sanctioned by the Mexican emperor. Soon

after his accession, the new lord of Tezcuco had an opportunity of

showing his loyalty to his imperial patron in an effectual manner.

A body of forty-five Spaniards, ignorant of the disasters in Mexico,

were transporting thither a large quantity of gold, at the very time

their countrymen were on the retreat to Tlascala. As they passed

through the Tezcucan territory, they were attacked by Coanaco’s orders,

most of them massacred on the spot, and the rest sent for sacrifice to

Mexico. The arms and accoutrements of these unfortunate men were hung up

as trophies in the temples, and their skins, stripped from their dead

bodies, were suspended over the bloody shrines, as the most acceptable

offering to the offended deities.[307]

Some months after this event, the exiled prince, Cuicuitzca, wearied

with his residence in Tlascala, and pining for his former royal state,

made his way back secretly to Tezcuco, hoping, it would seem, to raise a

party there in his favor. But, if such were his expectations, they were

sadly disappointed; for no sooner had he set foot in the capital than he

was betrayed to his brother, who, by the advice of Guatemozin, put him

to death, as a traitor to his country.[308] Such was the posture of

affairs in Tezcuco when Cortés, for the second time, approached its

gates; and well might he doubt, not merely the nature of his reception

there, but whether he would be permitted to enter it at all, without

force of arms.

These apprehensions were dispelled the following morning, when, before

the troops were well under arms, an embassy was announced from the lord

of Tezcuco. It consisted of several nobles, some of whom were known to

the companions of Cortés. They bore a golden flag in token of amity, and

a present of no great value to Cortés. They brought also a message from

the cacique, imploring the general to spare his territories, inviting

him to take up his quarters in his capital, and promising on his arrival

to become the vassal of the Spanish sovereign.

Cortés dissembled the satisfaction with which he listened to these

overtures, and sternly demanded of the envoys an account of the

Spaniards who had been massacred, insisting, at the same time, on the

immediate restitution of the plunder. But the Indian nobles excused

themselves by throwing the whole blame upon the Aztec emperor, by whose

orders the deed had been perpetrated, and who now had possession of the

treasure. They urged Cortés not to enter the city that day, but to pass

the night in the suburbs, that their master might have time to prepare

suitable accommodations for him. The Spanish commander, however, gave no

heed to this suggestion, but pushed forward his march, and at noon, on

the thirty-first of December, 1520, entered, at the head of his legions,

the venerable walls of Tezcuco, “the place of rest,” as not inaptly

denominated.[309]

He was struck, as when he before visited this populous city, with the

solitude and silence which reigned throughout its streets. He was

conducted to the palace of Nezahualpilli,{*} which was assigned as his

quarters. It was an irregular pile of low buildings, covering a wide

extent of ground, like the royal residence occupied by the troops in

Mexico. It was spacious enough to furnish accommodations not only for

all the Spaniards, says Cortés, but for twice their number.[310] He gave

orders, on his arrival, that all regard should be paid to the persons

and property of the citizens, and forbade any Spaniard to leave his

quarters, under pain of death.

{*} [Nezahualcoytl. According to Ixtlilxochitl, the only authority on

this point, it was the palace of Nezahualpilli that was burned by the

Tlascalans soon after their arrival.--M.]

His commands were not effectual to suppress some excesses of his Indian

allies, if the report of the Tezcucan chronicler be correct, who states

that the Tlascalans burned down one of the royal palaces soon after

their arrival. It was the depository of the national archives; and the

conflagration, however it may have occurred, may well be deplored by the

antiquary, who might have found in its hieroglyphic records some clue to

the migrations of the mysterious races which first settled on the

highlands of Anahuac.[311]

Alarmed at the apparent desertion of the place, as well as by the fact

that none of its principal inhabitants came to welcome him, Cortés

ordered some soldiers to ascend the neighboring _teocalli_ and survey

the city. They soon returned with the report that the inhabitants were

leaving it in great numbers, with their families and effects, some in

canoes upon the lake, others on foot towards the mountains. The general

now comprehended the import of the cacique’s suggestion that the

Spaniards should pass the night in the suburbs,--in order to secure time

for evacuating the city. He feared that the chief himself might have

fled. He lost no time in detaching troops to secure the principal

avenues, where they were to turn back the fugitives, and arrest the

cacique, if he were among the number. But it was too late. Coanaco was

already far on his way across the lake to Mexico.

Cortés now determined to turn this event to his own account, by placing

another ruler on the throne, who should be more subservient to his

interests. He called a meeting of the few principal persons still

remaining in the city, and, by their advice and ostensible election,

advanced a brother of the late sovereign to the dignity, which they

declared vacant. This prince, who consented to be baptized, was a

willing instrument in the hands of the Spaniards. He survived but a few

months,[312] and was succeeded by another member of the royal house,

named Ixtlilxochitl, who, indeed, as general of his armies, may be said

to have held the reins of government in his hands during his brother’s

lifetime. As this person was intimately associated with the Spaniards in

their subsequent operations, to the success of which he essentially

contributed, it is proper to give some account of his early history,

which, in truth, is as much enveloped in the marvellous as that of any

fabulous hero of antiquity.[313]

He was son, by a second queen, of the great Nezahualpilli. Some alarming

prodigies at his birth, and the gloomy aspect of the planets, led the

astrologers who cast his horoscope to advise the king, his father, to

take away the infant’s life, since, if he lived to grow up, he was

destined to unite with the enemies of his country and overturn its

institutions and religion. But the old monarch replied, says the

chronicler, that “the time had arrived when the sons of Quetzalcoatl

were to come from the East to take possession of the land, and, if the

Almighty had selected his child to co-operate with them in the work, His

will be done.”[314]

As the boy advanced in years, he exhibited a marvellous precocity not

merely of talent, but of mischievous activity, which afforded an

alarming prognostic for the future. When about twelve years old, he

formed a little corps of followers of about his own age, or somewhat

older, with whom he practised the military exercises of his nation,

conducting mimic fights and occasionally assaulting the peaceful

burghers and throwing the whole city as well as palace into uproar and

confusion. Some of his father’s ancient counsellors, connecting this

conduct with the predictions at his birth, saw in it such alarming

symptoms that they repeated the advice of the astrologers to take away

the prince’s life, if the monarch would not see his kingdom one day

given up to anarchy. This unpleasant advice was reported to the juvenile

offender, who was so much exasperated by it that he put himself at the

head of a party of his young desperadoes, and, entering the houses of

the offending counsellors, dragged them forth and administered to them

the _garrote_,--the mode in which capital punishment was inflicted in

Tezcuco.

He was seized and brought before his father. When questioned as to his

extraordinary conduct, he coolly replied “that he had done no more than

he had a right to do. The guilty ministers had deserved their fate, by

endeavoring to alienate his father’s affections from him, for no other

reason than his too great fondness for the profession of arms,--the most

honorable profession in the state, and the one most worthy of a prince.

If they had suffered death, it was no more than they had intended for

him.” The wise Nezahualpilli, says the chronicler, found much force in

these reasons; and, as he saw nothing low and sordid in the action, but

rather the ebullition of a daring spirit, which in after-life might lead

to great things, he contented himself with bestowing a grave admonition

on the juvenile culprit.[315] Whether this admonition had any salutary

effect on his subsequent demeanor, we are not informed. It is said,

however, that as he grew older he took an active part in the wars of his

country, and, when no more than seventeen, had won for himself the

insignia of a valiant and victorious captain.[316]

On his father’s death, he disputed the succession with his elder

brother, Cacama. The country was menaced with a civil war, when the

affair was compromised by his brother’s ceding to him that portion of

his territories which lay among the mountains. On the arrival of the

Spaniards, the young chieftain--for he was scarcely twenty years of

age--made, as we have seen, many friendly demonstrations towards them,

induced, no doubt, by his hatred of Montezuma, who had supported the

pretensions of Cacama.[317] It was not, however, till his advancement to

the lordship of Tezcuco that he showed the full extent of his good will.

From that hour he became the fast friend of the Christians, supporting

them with his personal authority and the whole strength of his military

array and resources, which, although much shorn of their ancient

splendor since the days of his father, were still considerable, and made

him a most valuable ally. His important services have been gratefully

commemorated by the Castilian historians; and history should certainly

not defraud him of his just meed of glory,--the melancholy glory of

having contributed more than any other chieftain of Anahuac to rivet the

chains of the white man round the necks of his countrymen.

The two pillars on which the story of the Conquest mainly rests are

the Chronicles of Gomara and of Bernal Diaz, two individuals having

as little resemblance to each other as the courtly and cultivated

churchman has to the unlettered soldier.

The first of these, Francisco Lopez de Gomara, was a native of

Seville. On the return of Cortés to Spain after the Conquest,

Gomara became his chaplain, and on his patron’s death continued in

the service of his son, the second Marquis of the Valley. It was

then that he wrote his Chronicle; and the circumstances under which

it was produced might lead one to conjecture that the narrative

would not be conducted on the strict principles of historic

impartiality. Nor would such a conjecture be without foundation.

The history of the Conquest is necessarily that of the great man

who achieved it. But Gomara has thrown his hero’s character into so

bold relief that it has entirely overshadowed that of his brave

companions in arms; and, while he has tenderly drawn the veil over

the infirmities of his favorite, he is ever studious to display his

exploits in the full blaze of panegyric. His situation may in some

degree excuse his partiality. But it did not vindicate him in the

eyes of the honest Las Casas, who seldom concludes a chapter of his

own narrative of the Conquest without administering a wholesome

castigation to Gomara. He even goes so far as to tax the chaplain

with “downright falsehood,” assuring us “that he had neither eyes

nor ears but for what his patron chose to dictate to him.” That

this is not literally true is evident from the fact that the

narrative was not written till several years after the death of

Cortés. Indeed, Gomara derived his information from the highest

sources; not merely from his patron’s family, but also from the

most distinguished actors in the great drama, with whom his

position in society placed him in intimate communication.

The materials thus obtained he arranged with a symmetry little

understood by the chroniclers of the time. Instead of their

rambling incoherencies, his style displays an elegant brevity; it

is as clear as it is concise. If the facts are somewhat too thickly

crowded on the reader, and occupy the mind too busily for

reflection, they at least all tend to a determinate point, and the

story, instead of dragging its slow length along till our patience

and interest are exhausted, steadily maintains its onward march. In

short, the execution of the work is not only superior to that of

most contemporary narratives, but, to a certain extent, may aspire

to the rank of a classical composition.

Owing to these circumstances, Gomara’s History soon obtained

general circulation and celebrity; and, while many a letter of

Cortés, and the more elaborate compositions of Oviedo and Las

Casas, were suffered to slumber in manuscript, Gomara’s writings

were printed and reprinted in his own day, and translated into

various languages of Europe. The first edition of the _Crónica de

la Nueva-España_ appeared at Medina, in 1553; it was republished at

Antwerp the following year. It has since been incorporated in

Barcia’s collection, and lastly, in 1826, made its appearance on

this side of the water from the Mexican press. The circumstances

attending this last edition are curious. The Mexican government

appropriated a small sum to defray the expense of translating what

was supposed to be an original chronicle of Chimalpain, an Indian

writer who lived at the close of the sixteenth century. The care of

the translation was committed to the laborious Bustamante. But

this scholar had not proceeded far in his labor when he

ascertained that the supposed original was itself an Aztec

translation of Gomara’s Chronicle. He persevered, however, in his

editorial labors, until he had given to the public an American

edition of Gomara. It is a fact more remarkable that the editor in

his different compilations constantly refers to this same work as

the Chronicle of Chimalpain.

The other authority to which I have adverted is Bernal Diaz del

Castillo, a native of Medina del Campo in Old Castile. He was born

of a poor and humble family, and in 1514 came over to seek his

fortunes in the New World. He embarked as a common soldier under

Cordova in the first expedition to Yucatan. He accompanied Grijalva

in the following year to the same quarter, and finally enlisted

under the banner of Cortés. He followed this victorious chief in

his first march up the great plateau; descended with him to make

the assault on Narvaez; shared the disasters of the _noche triste_;

and was present at the siege and surrender of the capital. In

short, there was scarcely an event or an action of importance in

the whole war in which he did not bear a part. He was engaged in a

hundred and nineteen different battles and rencontres, in several

of which he was wounded, and in more than one narrowly escaped

falling into the enemy’s hands. In all these Bernal Diaz displayed

the old Castilian valor, and a loyalty which made him proof against

the mutinous spirit that too often disturbed the harmony of the

camp. On every occasion he was found true to his commander and to

the cause in which he was embarked. And his fidelity is attested

not only by his own report, but by the emphatic commendations of

his general; who selected him on this account for offices of trust

and responsibility, which furnished the future chronicler with

access to the best means of information in respect to the Conquest.

On the settlement of the country, Bernal Diaz received his share of

the _repartimientos_ of land and laborers. But the arrangement was

not to his satisfaction; and he loudly murmurs at the selfishness

of his commander, too much engrossed by the care for his own

emoluments to think of his followers. The division of spoil is

usually an unthankful office. Diaz had been too long used to a life

of adventure to be content with one of torpid security. He took

part in several expeditions conducted by the captains of Cortés,

and he accompanied that chief in his terrible passage through the

forests of Honduras. At length, in 1568, we find the veteran

established as regidor of the city of Guatemala, peacefully

employed in recounting the valorous achievements of his youth. It

was then nearly half a century after the Conquest. He had survived

his general and nearly all his ancient companions in arms. Five

only remained of that gallant band who had accompanied Cortés on

his expedition from Cuba; and those five, to borrow the words of

the old chronicler, were “poor, aged, and infirm, with children and

grandchildren looking to them for support, but with scarcely the

means of affording it,--ending their days, as they had begun them,

in toil and trouble.” Such was the fate of the Conquerors of golden

Mexico.

The motives which induced Bernal Diaz to take up his pen at so late

a period of life were to vindicate for himself and his comrades

that share of renown in the Conquest which fairly belonged to them.

Of this they had been deprived, as he conceived, by the exaggerated

reputation of their general; owing, no doubt, in part, to the

influence of Gomara’s writings. It was not, however, till he had

advanced beyond the threshold of his own work that Diaz met with

that of the chaplain. The contrast presented by his own homely

diction to the clear and polished style of his predecessor filled

him with so much disgust that he threw down his pen in despair.

But, when he had read further, and saw the gross inaccuracies and

what he deemed disregard of truth in his rival, he resumed his

labors, determined to exhibit to the world a narrative which should

at least have the merit of fidelity. Such was the origin of the

_Historia verdadera de la Conquista de la Nueva-España_.

The chronicler may be allowed to have succeeded in his object. In

reading his pages, we feel that, whatever are the errors into which

he has fallen, from oblivion of ancient transactions, or from

unconscious vanity,--of which he had full measure,--or from

credulity, or any other cause, there is nowhere a wilful perversion

of truth. Had he attempted it, indeed, his very simplicity would

have betrayed him. Even in relation to Cortés, while he endeavors

to adjust the true balance between his pretensions and those of his

followers, and while he freely exposes his cunning or cupidity, and

sometimes his cruelty, he does ample justice to his great and

heroic qualities. With all his defects, it is clear that he

considers his own chief as superior to any other of ancient or

modern times. In the heat of remonstrance, he is ever ready to

testify his loyalty and personal attachment. When calumnies assail

his commander, or he experiences unmerited slight or indignity, the

loyal chronicler is prompt to step forward and shield him. In

short, it is evident that, however much he may at times censure

Cortés, he will allow no one else to do it.

Bernal Diaz, the untutored child of nature, is a most true and

literal copyist of nature. He transfers the scenes of real life by

a sort of _daguerreotype_ process, if I may so say, to his pages.

He is among chroniclers what De Foe is among novelists. He

introduces us into the heart of the camp, we huddle round the

bivouac with the soldiers, loiter with them on their wearisome

marches, listen to their stories, their murmurs of discontent,

their plans of conquest, their hopes, their triumphs, their

disappointments. All the picturesque scenes and romantic incidents

of the campaign are reflected in his page as in a mirror. The lapse

of fifty years has had no power over the spirit of the veteran. The

fire of youth glows in every line of his rude history; and, as he

calls up the scenes of the past, the remembrance of the brave

companions who are gone gives, it may be, a warmer coloring to the

picture than if it had been made at an earlier period. Time, and

reflection, and the apprehensions for the future, which might steal

over the evening of life, have no power over the settled opinions

of his earlier days. He has no misgivings as to the right of

conquest, or as to the justice of the severities inflicted on the

natives. He is still the soldier of the Cross; and those who fell

by his side in the fight were martyrs for the faith. “Where are now

my companions?” he asks; “they have fallen in battle or been

devoured by the cannibal, or been thrown to fatten the wild beasts

in their cages! they whose remains should rather have been gathered

under monuments emblazoned with their achievements, which deserve

to be commemorated in letters of gold; for they died in the service

of God and of his Majesty, and to give light to those who sat in

darkness,--_and also to acquire that wealth which most men covet_.”

The last motive--thus tardily and incidentally expressed--may be

thought by some to furnish a better key than either of the

preceding to the conduct of the Conquerors. It is, at all events, a

specimen of that _naïveté_ which gives an irresistible charm to the

old chronicler, and which, in spite of himself, unlocks his bosom,

as it were, and lays it open to the eye of the reader.

It may seem extraordinary that after so long an interval, the

incidents of his campaigns should have been so freshly remembered.

But we must consider that they were of the most strange and

romantic character, well fitted to make an impression on a young

and susceptible imagination. They had probably been rehearsed by

the veteran again and again to his family and friends, until every

passage of the war was as familiar to his mind as the “tale of

Troy” to the Greek rhapsodist, or the interminable adventures of

Sir Lancelot or Sir Gawain to the Norman minstrel. The throwing of

his narrative into the form of chronicle was but repeating it once

more.

The literary merits of the work are of a very humble order; as

might be expected from the condition of the writer. He has not even

the art to conceal his own vulgar vanity, which breaks out with a

truly comic ostentation in every page of the narrative. And yet we

should have charity for this, when we find that it is attended with

no disposition to depreciate the merits of others, and that its

display may be referred in part to the singular simplicity of the

man. He honestly confesses his infirmity, though, indeed, to excuse

it. “When my chronicle was finished,” he says, “I submitted it to

two licentiates, who were desirous of reading the story, and for

whom I felt all the respect which an ignorant man naturally feels

for a scholar. I besought them, at the same time, to make no change

or correction in the manuscript, as all there was set down in good

faith. When they had read the work, they much commended me for my

wonderful memory. The language, they said, was good old Castilian,

without any of the flourishes and finicalities so much affected by

our fine writers. But they remarked that it would have been as well

if I had not praised myself and my comrades so liberally, but had

left that to others. To this I answered that it was common for

neighbors and kindred to speak kindly of one another; and, if we

did not speak well of ourselves, who would? Who else witnessed our

exploits and our battles,--unless, indeed, the clouds in the sky,

and the birds that were flying over our heads?”

Notwithstanding the liberal encomiums passed by the licentiates on

our author’s style, it is of a very homely texture, abounding in

colloquial barbarisms, and seasoned occasionally by the piquant

sallies of the camp. It has the merit, however, of clearly

conveying the writer’s thoughts, and is well suited to their simple

character. His narrative is put together with even less skill than

is usual among his craft, and abounds in digressions and

repetitions, such as vulgar gossips are apt to use in telling their

stories. But it is superfluous to criticise a work by the rules of

art which was written manifestly in total ignorance of those rules,

and which, however we may criticise it, will be read and re-read by

the scholar and the schoolboy, while the compositions of more

classic chroniclers sleep undisturbed on their shelves.

In what, then, lies the charm of the work? In that spirit of truth

which pervades it; which shows us situations as they were, and

sentiments as they really existed in the heart of the writer. It is

this which imparts a living interest to his story, and which is

more frequently found in the productions of the untutored penman

solely intent upon facts, than in those of the ripe and fastidious

scholar occupied with the mode of expressing them.

It was by a mere chance that this inimitable chronicle was rescued

from the oblivion into which so many works of higher pretensions

have fallen in the Peninsula. For more than sixty years after its

composition the manuscript lay concealed in the obscurity of a

private library, when it was put into the hands of Father Alonso

Remon, Chronicler-General of the Order of Mercy. He had the

sagacity to discover, under its rude exterior, its high value in

illustrating the history of the Conquest. He obtained a license for

the publication of the work, and under his auspices it appeared at

Madrid in 1632,--the edition used in the preparation of these

volumes.

BOOK VI

SIEGE AND SURRENDER OF MEXICO

CHAPTER I

ARRANGEMENTS AT TEZCUCO--SACK OF IZTAPALAPAN--ADVANTAGES OF THE

SPANIARDS--WISE POLICY OF CORTÉS--TRANSPORTATION OF THE BRIGANTINES

1521

The city of Tezcuco was the best position, probably, which Cortés could

have chosen for the headquarters of the army. It supplied all the

accommodations for lodging a numerous body of troops, and all the

facilities for subsistence, incident to a large and populous town.[318]

It furnished, moreover, a multitude of artisans and laborers for the

uses of the army. Its territories, bordering on the Tlascalan, afforded

a ready means of intercourse with the country of his allies; while its

vicinity to Mexico enabled the general, without much difficulty, to

ascertain the movements in that capital. Its central situation, in

short, opened facilities for communication with all parts of the Valley,

and made it an excellent _point d’appui_ for his future operations.

The first care of Cortés was to strengthen himself in the palace

assigned to him, and to place his quarters in a state of defence which

might secure them against surprise not only from the Mexicans, but from

the Tezcucans themselves. Since the election of their new ruler, a large

part of the population had returned to their homes, assured of

protection in person and property. But the Spanish general,

notwithstanding their show of submission, very much distrusted its

sincerity; for he knew that many of them were united too intimately with

the Aztecs, by marriage and other social relations, not to have their

sympathies engaged in their behalf.[319] The young monarch, however,

seemed wholly in his interests; and, to secure him more effectually,

Cortés placed several Spaniards near his person, whose ostensible

province it was to instruct him in their language and religion, but who

were in reality to watch over his conduct and prevent his correspondence

with those who might be unfriendly to the Spanish interests.[320]

Tezcuco stood about half a league from the lake. It would be necessary

to open a communication with it, so that the brigantines, when put

together in the capital, might be launched upon its waters. It was

proposed, therefore, to dig a canal reaching from the gardens of

Nezahualcoyotl, as they were called, from the old monarch who planned

them, to the edge of the basin. A little stream, or rivulet, which

flowed in that direction, was to be deepened sufficiently for the

purpose; and eight thousand Indian laborers were forthwith employed on

this great work, under the direction of the young Ixtlilxochitl.[321]

Meanwhile, Cortés received messages from several places in the

neighborhood, intimating their desire to become the vassals of his

sovereign and to be taken under his protection. The Spanish commander

required, in return, that they should deliver up every Mexican who

should set foot in their territories. Some noble Aztecs, who had been

sent on a mission to these towns, were consequently delivered into his

hands. He availed himself of it to employ them as bearers of a message

to their master the emperor. In it he deprecated the necessity of the

present hostilities. Those who had most injured him, he said, were no

longer among the living. He was willing to forget the past, and invited

the Mexicans, by a timely submission, to save their capital from the

horrors of a siege.[322] Cortés had no expectation of producing any

immediate result by this appeal. But he thought it might lie in the

minds of the Mexicans, and that, if there was a party among them

disposed to treat with him, it might afford them encouragement, as

showing his own willingness to co-operate with their views. At this

time, however, there was no division of opinion in the capital. The

whole population seemed animated by a spirit of resistance, as one man.

In a former page I have mentioned that it was the plan of Cortés, on

entering the Valley, to commence operations by reducing the subordinate

cities before striking at the capital itself, which, like some goodly

tree whose roots had been severed one after another, would be thus left

without support against the fury of the tempest. The first point of

attack which he selected was the ancient city of Iztapalapan; a place

containing fifty thousand inhabitants, according to his own account, and

situated about six leagues distant, on the narrow tongue of land which

divides the waters of the great salt lake from those of the fresh. It

was the private domain of the last sovereign of Mexico; where, as the

reader may remember, he entertained the white men the night before their

entrance into the capital, and astonished them by the display of his

princely gardens. To this monarch they owed no good will, for he had

conducted the operations on the _noche triste_. He was, indeed, no more;

but the people of his city entered heartily into his hatred of the

strangers, and were now the most loyal vassals of the Mexican crown.

In a week after his arrival at his new quarters, Cortés, leaving the

command of the garrison to Sandoval, marched against this Indian city,

at the head of two hundred Spanish foot, eighteen horse, and between

three and four thousand Tlascalans. Their route lay along the eastern

border of the lake, gemmed with many a bright town and hamlet, or,

unlike its condition at the present day, darkened with overhanging

groves of cypress and cedar, and occasionally opening a broad expanse to

their view, with the Queen of the Valley rising gloriously from the

waters, as if proudly conscious of her supremacy over the fair cities

around her. Farther on, the eye ranged along the dark line of causeway

connecting Mexico with the main land, and suggesting many a bitter

recollection to the Spaniards.

They quickened their step, and had advanced within two leagues of their

point of destination, when they were encountered by a strong Aztec force

drawn up to dispute their progress. Cortés instantly gave them battle.

The barbarians showed their usual courage, but, after some hard

fighting, were compelled to give way before the steady valor of the

Spanish infantry, backed by the desperate fury of the Tlascalans, whom

the sight of an Aztec seemed to inflame almost to madness. The enemy

retreated in disorder, closely followed by the Spaniards. When they had

arrived within half a league of Iztapalapan, they observed a number of

canoes filled with Indians, who appeared to be laboring on the mole

which hemmed in the waters of the salt lake. Swept along in the tide of

pursuit, they gave little heed to it, but, following up the chase,

entered pell-mell with the fugitives into the city.

The houses stood some of them on dry ground, some on piles in the

water. The former were deserted by the inhabitants, most of whom had

escaped in canoes across the lake, leaving, in their haste, their

effects behind them. The Tlascalans poured at once into the vacant

dwellings and loaded themselves with booty; while the enemy, making the

best of their way through this part of the town, sought shelter in the

buildings erected over the water, or among the reeds which sprung from

its shallow bottom. In the houses were many of the citizens also, who

still lingered with their wives and children, unable to find the means

of transporting themselves from the scene of danger.

Cortés, supported by his own men, and by such of the allies as could be

brought to obey his orders, attacked the enemy in this last place of

their retreat. Both parties fought up to their girdles in the water. A

desperate struggle ensued; as the Aztec fought with the fury of a tiger

driven to bay by the huntsmen. It was all in vain. The enemy was

overpowered in every quarter. The citizen shared the fate of the

soldier, and a pitiless massacre succeeded, without regard to sex or

age. Cortés endeavored to stop it. But it would have been as easy to

call away the starving wolf from the carcass he was devouring, as the

Tlascalan who had once tasted the blood of an enemy. More than six

thousand, including women and children, according to the Conqueror’s own

statement, perished in the conflict.[323]

Darkness meanwhile had set in; but it was dispelled in some measure by

the light of the burning houses, which the troops had set on fire, in

different parts of the town. Their insulated position, it is true,

prevented the flames from spreading from one building to another, but

the solitary masses threw a strong and lurid glare over their own

neighborhood, which gave additional horror to the scene. As resistance

was now at an end, the soldiers abandoned themselves to pillage, and

soon stripped the dwellings of every portable article of any value.

While engaged in this work of devastation, a murmuring sound was heard

as of the hoarse rippling of waters, and a cry soon arose among the

Indians that the dikes were broken! Cortés now comprehended the business

of the men whom he had seen in the canoes at work on the mole which

fenced in the great basin of Lake Tezcuco.[324] It had been pierced by

the desperate Indians, who thus laid the country under an inundation, by

suffering the waters of the salt lake to spread themselves over the

lower level, through the opening. Greatly alarmed, the general called

his men together, and made all haste to evacuate the city. Had they

remained three hours longer, he says, not a soul could have

escaped.[325] They came staggering under the weight of booty, wading

with difficulty through the water, which was fast gaining upon them. For

some distance their path was illumined by the glare of the burning

buildings. But, as the light faded away in the distance, they wandered

with uncertain steps, sometimes up to their knees, at others up to their

waists, in the water, through which they floundered on with the greatest

difficulty. As they reached the opening in the dike, the stream became

deeper, and flowed out with such a current that the men were unable to

maintain their footing. The Spaniards, breasting the flood, forced their

way through; but many of the Indians, unable to swim, were borne down by

the waters. All the plunder was lost. The powder was spoiled; the arms

and clothes of the soldiers were saturated with the brine, and the cold

night-wind, as it blew over them, benumbed their weary limbs till they

could scarcely drag them along. At dawn they beheld the lake swarming

with canoes, full of Indians, who had anticipated their disaster, and

who now saluted them with showers of stones, arrows, and other deadly

missiles. Bodies of light troops, hovering in the distance, disquieted

the flanks of the army in like manner. The Spaniards had no desire to

close with the enemy. They only wished to regain their comfortable

quarters in Tezcuco, where they arrived on the same day, more

disconsolate and fatigued than after many a long march and hard-fought

battle.[326]

The close of the expedition, so different from its brilliant

commencement, greatly disappointed Cortés. His numerical loss had,

indeed, not been great; but this affair convinced him how much he had to

apprehend from the resolution of a people who, with a spirit worthy of

the ancient Hollanders, were prepared to bury their country under water

rather than to submit. Still, the enemy had little cause for

congratulation; since, independently of the number of slain, they had

seen one of their most flourishing cities sacked, and in part, at least,

laid in ruins,--one of those, too, which in its public works displayed

the nearest approach to civilization. Such are the triumphs of war!

The expedition of Cortés, notwithstanding the disasters which checkered

it, was favorable to the Spanish cause. The fate of Iztapalapan struck a

terror throughout the Valley. The consequences were soon apparent in the

deputations sent by the different places eager to offer their

submission. Its influence was visible, indeed, beyond the mountains.

Among others, the people of Otumba, the town near which the Spaniards

had gained their famous victory, sent to tender their allegiance and to

request the protection of the powerful strangers. They excused

themselves, as usual, for the part they had taken in the late

hostilities, by throwing the blame on the Aztecs.

But the place of most importance which thus claimed their protection was

Chalco, situated on the eastern extremity of the lake of that name. It

was an ancient city, peopled by a kindred tribe of the Aztecs, and once

their formidable rival. The Mexican emperor, distrusting their loyalty,

had placed a garrison within their walls to hold them in check. The

rulers of the city now sent a message secretly to Cortés, proposing to

put themselves under his protection, if he would enable them to expel

the garrison.

The Spanish commander did not hesitate, but instantly detached a

considerable force under Sandoval for this object. On the march, his

rear-guard, composed of Tlascalans, was roughly handled by some light

troops of the Mexicans. But he took his revenge in a pitched battle

which took place with the main body of the enemy at no great distance

from Chalco. They were drawn up on a level ground, covered with green

crops of maize and maguey. The field is traversed by the road which at

this day leads from the last-mentioned city to Tezcuco.[327] Sandoval,

charging the enemy at the head of his cavalry, threw them into disorder.

But they quickly rallied, formed again, and renewed the battle with

greater spirit than ever. In a second attempt he was more fortunate;

and, breaking through their lines by a desperate onset, the brave

cavalier succeeded, after a warm but ineffectual struggle on their part,

in completely routing and driving them from the field. The conquering

army continued its march to Chalco, which the Mexican garrison had

already evacuated, and was received in triumph by the assembled

citizens, who seemed eager to testify their gratitude for their

deliverance from the Aztec yoke. After taking such measures as he could

for the permanent security of the place, Sandoval returned to Tezcuco,

accompanied by the two young lords of the city, sons of the late

cacique.

They were courteously received by Cortés; and they informed him that

their father had died, full of years, a short time before. With his last

breath he had expressed his regret that he should not have lived to see

Malinche. He believed that the white men were the beings predicted by

the oracles as one day to come from the East and take possession of the

land;[328] and he enjoined it on his children, should the strangers

return to the Valley, to render them their homage and allegiance. The

young caciques expressed their readiness to do so; but, as this must

bring on them the vengeance of the Aztecs, they implored the general to

furnish a sufficient force for their protection.[329]

Cortés received a similar application from various other towns, which

were disposed, could they do so with safety, to throw off the Mexican

yoke. But he was in no situation to comply with their request. He now

felt more sensibly than ever the incompetency of his means to his

undertaking. “I assure your Majesty,” he writes in his letter to the

emperor, “the greatest uneasiness which I feel, after all my labors and

fatigues, is from my inability to succor and support our Indian friends,

your Majesty’s loyal vassals.”[330] Far from having a force competent to

this, he had scarcely enough for his own protection. His vigilant enemy

had an eye on all his movements, and, should he cripple his strength by

sending away too many detachments or by employing them at too great a

distance, would be prompt to take advantage of it. His only expeditions,

hitherto, had been in the neighborhood, where the troops, after striking

some sudden and decisive blow, might speedily regain their quarters. The

utmost watchfulness was maintained there, and the Spaniards lived in as

constant preparation for an assault as if their camp was pitched under

the walls of Mexico.

On two occasions the general had sallied forth and engaged the enemy in

the environs of Tezcuco. At one time a thousand canoes filled with

Aztecs, crossed the lake to gather in a large crop of Indian corn,

nearly ripe, on its borders. Cortés thought it important to secure this

for himself. He accordingly marched out and gave battle to the enemy,

drove them from the field, and swept away the rich harvest to the

granaries of Tezcuco. Another time a strong body of Mexicans had

established themselves in some neighboring towns friendly to their

interests. Cortés, again sallying, dislodged them from their quarters,

beat them in several skirmishes, and reduced the places to obedience.

But these enterprises demanded all his resources, and left him nothing

to spare for his allies. In this exigency, his fruitful genius suggested

an expedient for supplying the deficiency of his means.

Some of the friendly cities without the Valley, observing the numerous

beacon-fires on the mountains, inferred that the Mexicans were mustering

in great strength, and that the Spaniards must be hard pressed in their

new quarters. They sent messengers to Tezcuco, expressing their

apprehension, and offering reinforcements, which the general, when he

set out on his march, had declined. He returned many thanks for the

proffered aid; but, while he declined it for himself, as unnecessary, he

indicated in what manner their services might be effectual for the

defence of Chalco and the other places which had invoked his protection.

But his Indian allies were in deadly feud with these places, whose

inhabitants had too often fought under the Aztec banner not to have been

engaged in repeated wars with the people beyond the mountains.

Cortés set himself earnestly to reconcile these differences. He told the

hostile parties that they should be willing to forget their mutual

wrongs, since they had entered into new relations. They were now vassals

of the same sovereign, engaged in a common enterprise against the

formidable foe who had so long trodden them in the dust. Singly they

could do little, but united they might protect each other’s weakness and

hold their enemy at bay till the Spaniards could come to their

assistance. These arguments finally prevailed; and the politic general

had the satisfaction to see the high-spirited and hostile tribes forego

their long-cherished rivalry, and, resigning the pleasures of revenge,

so dear to the barbarian, embrace one another as friends and champions

in a common cause. To this wise policy the Spanish commander owed quite

as much of his subsequent success as to his arms.[331]

Thus the foundations of the Mexican empire were hourly loosening, as the

great vassals around the capital, on whom it most relied, fell off one

after another from their allegiance. The Aztecs, properly so called,

formed but a small part of the population of the Valley. This was

principally composed of cognate tribes, members of the same great family

of the Nahuatlacs who had come upon the plateau at nearly the same time.

They were mutual rivals, and were reduced one after another by the more

warlike Mexican, who held them in subjection, often by open force,

always by fear. Fear was the great principle of cohesion which bound

together the discordant members of the monarchy; and this was now fast

dissolving before the influence of a power more mighty than that of the

Aztec. This, it is true, was not the first time that the conquered races

had attempted to recover their independence. But all such attempts had

failed for want of concert. It was reserved for the commanding genius of

Cortés to extinguish their old hereditary feuds, and, combining their

scattered energies, to animate them with a common principle of

action.[332]

Encouraged by this state of things, the Spanish general thought it a

favorable moment to press his negotiations with the capital. He availed

himself of the presence of some noble Mexicans, taken in the late action

with Sandoval, to send another message to their master. It was in

substance a repetition of the first, with a renewed assurance that, if

the city would return to its allegiance to the Spanish crown, the

authority of Guatemozin should be confirmed and the persons and property

of his subjects be respected. To this communication no reply was made.

The young Indian emperor had a spirit as dauntless as that of Cortés

himself. On his head descended the full effects of that vicious system

of government bequeathed to him by his ancestors. But, as he saw his

empire crumbling beneath him, he sought to uphold it by his own energy

and resources. He anticipated the defection of some vassals by

establishing garrisons within their walls. Others he conciliated by

exempting them from tributes or greatly lightening their burdens, or by

advancing them to posts of honor and authority in the state. He showed,

at the same time, his implacable animosity towards the Christians by

commanding that every one taken within his dominions should be

straightway sent to the capital, where he was sacrificed, with all the

barbarous ceremonies prescribed by the Aztec ritual.[333]

While these occurrences were passing, Cortés received the welcome

intelligence that the brigantines were completed and waiting to be

transported to Tezcuco. He detached a body for the service, consisting

of two hundred Spanish foot and fifteen horse, which he placed under the

command of Sandoval. This cavalier had been rising daily in the

estimation both of the general and of the army. Though one of the

youngest officers in the service, he possessed a cool head and a ripe

judgment, which fitted him for the most delicate and difficult

undertakings. There were others, indeed, as Alvarado and Olid, for

example, whose intrepidity made them equally competent to achieve a

brilliant _coup-de-main_. But the courage of Alvarado was too often

carried to temerity or perverted by passion; while Olid, dark and

doubtful in his character, was not entirely to be trusted. Sandoval was

a native of Medellin, the birthplace of Cortés himself. He was warmly

attached to his commander, and had on all occasions proved himself

worthy of his confidence. He was a man of few words, showing his worth

rather by what he did than what he said. His honest, soldier-like

deportment made him a favorite with the troops, and had its influence

even on his enemies. He unfortunately died in the flower of his age. But

he discovered talents and military skill which, had he lived to later

life, would undoubtedly have placed his name on the roll with those of

the greatest captains of his nation.

Sandoval’s route was to lead him by Zoltepec, a small city where the

massacre of the forty-five Spaniards, already noticed, had been

perpetrated. The cavalier received orders to find out the guilty

parties, if possible, and to punish them for their share in the

transaction.

When the Spaniards arrived at the spot, they found that the inhabitants,

who had previous notice of their approach, had all fled. In the deserted

temples they discovered abundant traces of the fate of their countrymen;

for, besides their arms and clothing, and the hides of their horses, the

heads of several soldiers, prepared in such a way that they could be

well preserved, were found suspended as trophies of the victory. In a

neighboring building, traced with charcoal on the walls, they found the

following inscription in Castilian: “In this place the unfortunate Juan

Juste, with many others of his company, was imprisoned.”[334] This

hidalgo was one of the followers of Narvaez, and had come with him into

the country in quest of gold, but had found, instead, an obscure and

inglorious death. The eyes of the soldiers were suffused with tears as

they gazed on the gloomy record, and their bosoms swelled with

indignation as they thought of the horrible fate of the captives.

Fortunately, the inhabitants were not then before them. Some few, who

subsequently fell into their hands, were branded as slaves. But the

greater part of the population, who threw themselves, in the most abject

manner, on the mercy of the Conquerors, imputing the blame of the affair

to the Aztecs, the Spanish commander spared, from pity, or

contempt.[335]

He now resumed his march on Tlascala; but scarcely had he crossed the

borders of the republic, when he descried the flaunting banners of the

convoy which transported the brigantines, as it was threading its way

through the defiles of the mountains. Great was his satisfaction at the

spectacle, for he had feared a detention of some days at Tlascala before

the preparations for the march could be completed.

There were thirteen vessels in all, of different sizes. They had been

constructed under the direction of the experienced ship-builder, Martin

Lopez, aided by three or four Spanish carpenters and the friendly

natives, some of whom showed no mean degree of imitative skill. The

brigantines, when completed, had been fairly tried on the waters of the

Zahuapan. They were then taken to pieces, and, as Lopez was impatient of

delay, the several parts, the timbers, anchors, iron-work, sails, and

cordage, were placed on the shoulders of the _tamanes_, and, under a

numerous military escort, were thus far advanced on the way to

Tezcuco.[336] Sandoval dismissed a part of the Indian convoy, as

superfluous.

Twenty thousand warriors he retained, dividing them into two equal

bodies for the protection of the _tamanes_ in the centre.[337] His own

little body of Spaniards he distributed in like manner. The Tlascalans

in the van marched under the command of a chief who gloried in the name

of Chichemecatl. For some reason Sandoval afterwards changed the order

of march, and placed this division in the rear,--an arrangement which

gave great umbrage to the doughty warrior that led it, who asserted his

right to the front, the place which he and his ancestors had always

occupied, as the post of danger. He was somewhat appeased by Sandoval’s

assurance that it was for that very reason he had been transferred to

the rear, the quarter most likely to be assailed by the enemy. But even

then he was greatly dissatisfied on finding that the Spanish commander

was to march by his side, grudging, it would seem, that any other should

share the laurel with himself.

Slowly and painfully, encumbered with their heavy burden, the troops

worked their way over steep eminences and rough mountain-passes,

presenting, one might suppose, in their long line of march, many a

vulnerable point to an enemy. But, although small parties of warriors

were seen hovering at times on their flanks and rear, they kept at a

respectful distance, not caring to encounter so formidable a foe. On the

fourth day the warlike caravan arrived in safety before Tezcuco.

Their approach was beheld with joy by Cortés and the soldiers, who

hailed it as the signal of a speedy termination of the war. The general,

attended by his officers, all dressed in their richest attire, came out

to welcome the convoy. It extended over a space of two leagues; and so

slow was its progress that six hours elapsed before the closing files

had entered the city.[338] The Tlascalan chiefs displayed all their

wonted bravery of apparel, and the whole array, composed of the flower

of their warriors, made a brilliant appearance. They marched by the

sound of atabal and cornet, and, as they traversed the streets of the

capital amidst the acclamations of the soldiery, they made the city ring

with the shouts of “Castile and Tlascala, long live our sovereign, the

emperor!”[339]

“It was a marvellous thing,” exclaims the Conqueror, in his Letters,

“that few have seen, or even heard of,--this transportation of thirteen

vessels of war on the shoulders of men for nearly twenty leagues across

the mountains!”[340] It was, indeed, a stupendous achievement, and not

easily matched in ancient or modern story; one which only a genius like

that of Cortés could have devised, or a daring spirit like his have so

successfully executed. Little did he foresee, when he ordered the

destruction of the fleet which first brought him to the country, and

with his usual forecast commanded the preservation of the iron-work and

rigging,--little did he foresee the important uses for which they were

to be reserved; so important, that on their preservation may be said to

have depended the successful issue of his great enterprise.[341]

He greeted his Indian allies with the greatest cordiality, testifying

his sense of their services by those honors and attentions which he knew

would be most grateful to their ambitious spirits. “We come,” exclaimed

the hardy warriors, “to fight under your banner; to avenge our common

quarrel, or to fall by your side;” and, with their usual impatience,

they urged him to lead them at once against the enemy. “Wait,” replied

the general, bluntly, “till you are rested, and you shall have your

hands full.”[342]

CHAPTER II

CORTÉS RECONNOITRES THE CAPITAL--OCCUPIES TACUBA--SKIRMISHES WITH

THE ENEMY--EXPEDITION OF SANDOVAL--ARRIVAL OF REINFORCEMENTS

1521

In the course of three or four days, the Spanish general furnished the

Tlascalans with the opportunity so much coveted, and allowed their

boiling spirits to effervesce in active operations. He had for some time

meditated an expedition to reconnoitre the capital and its environs, and

to chastise, on the way, certain places which had sent him insulting

messages of defiance and which were particularly active in their

hostilities. He disclosed his design to a few only of his principal

officers, from his distrust of the Tezcucans, whom he suspected to be in

correspondence with the enemy.

Early in the spring, he left Tezcuco, at the head of three hundred and

fifty Spaniards and the whole strength of his allies. He took with him

Alvarado and Olid, and intrusted the charge of the garrison to Sandoval.

Cortés had had practical acquaintance with the incompetence of the first

of these cavaliers for so delicate a post, during his short but

disastrous rule in Mexico.

But all his precautions had not availed to shroud his designs from the

vigilant foe, whose eye was on all his movements; who seemed even to

divine his thoughts and to be prepared to thwart their execution. He had

advanced but a few leagues, when he was met by a considerable body of

Mexicans, drawn up to dispute his progress. A sharp skirmish took place,

in which the enemy were driven from the ground, and the way was left

open to the Christians. They held a circuitous route to the north, and

their first point of attack was the insular town of Xaltocan, situated

on the northern extremity of the lake of that name, now called San

Christóbal. The town was entirely surrounded by water, and communicated

with the main land by means of causeways, in the same manner as the

Mexican capital. Cortés, riding at the head of his cavalry, advanced

along the dike till he was brought to a stand by finding a wide opening

in it, through which the waters poured, so as to be altogether

impracticable, not only for horse, but for infantry. The lake was

covered with canoes filled with Aztec warriors, who, anticipating the

movement of the Spaniards, had come to the aid of the city. They now

began a furious discharge of stones and arrows on the assailants, while

they were themselves tolerably well protected from the musketry of their

enemy by the light bulwarks with which, for that purpose, they had

fortified their canoes.

The severe volleys of the Mexicans did some injury to the Spaniards and

their allies, and began to throw them into disorder, crowded as they

were on the narrow causeway, without the means of advancing, when

Cortés ordered a retreat. This was followed by renewed tempests of

missiles, accompanied by taunts and fierce yells of defiance. The

battle-cry of the Aztec, like the war-whoop of the North American

Indian, was an appalling note, according to the Conqueror’s own

acknowledgment, in the ears of the Spaniards.[343] At this juncture, the

general fortunately obtained information from a deserter, one of the

Mexican allies, of a ford, by which the army might traverse the shallow

lake and penetrate into the place. He instantly despatched the greater

part of the infantry on the service, posting himself with the remainder

and with the horse at the entrance of the passage, to cover the attack

and prevent any interruption in the rear.

The soldiers, under the direction of the Indian guide, forded the lake

without much difficulty, though in some places the water came above

their girdles. During the passage, they were annoyed by the enemy’s

missiles; but when they had gained the dry level they took ample

revenge, and speedily put all who resisted to the sword. The greater

part, together with the townsmen, made their escape in the boats. The

place was now abandoned to pillage. The troops found in it many women,

who had been left to their fate; and these, together with a considerable

quantity of cotton stuffs, gold, and articles of food, fell into the

hands of the victors, who, setting fire to the deserted city, returned

in triumph to their comrades.[344]

Continuing his circuitous route, Cortés presented himself successively

before three other places, each of which had been deserted by the

inhabitants in anticipation of his arrival.[345] The principal of these,

Azcapozalco, had once been the capital of an independent state. It was

now the great slave-market of the Aztecs, where their unfortunate

captives were brought and disposed of at public sale. It was also the

quarter occupied by the jewellers, and the place whence the Spaniards

obtained the goldsmiths who melted down the rich treasures received from

Montezuma. But they found there only a small supply of the precious

metals, or, indeed, of anything else of value, as the people had been

careful to remove their effects. They spared the buildings, however, in

consideration of their having met with no resistance.

During the nights, the troops bivouacked in the open fields, maintaining

the strictest watch, for the country was all in arms, and beacons were

flaming on every hill-top, while dark masses of the enemy were

occasionally descried in the distance. The Spaniards were now traversing

the most opulent region of Anahuac. Cities and villages were scattered

over hill and valley, with cultivated environs blooming around them, all

giving token of a dense and industrious population. In the centre of

this brilliant circumference stood the Indian metropolis, with its

gorgeous tiara of pyramids and temples, attracting the eye of the

soldier from every other object, as he wound round the borders of the

lake. Every inch of ground which the army trod was familiar to

them,--familiar as the scenes of childhood, though with very different

associations, for it had been written on their memories in characters of

blood. On the right rose the hill of Montezuma,[346] crowned by the

_teocalli_ under the roof of which the shattered relics of the army had

been gathered on the day following the flight from the capital. In front

lay the city of Tacuba, through whose inhospitable streets they had

hurried in fear and consternation; and away to the east of it stretched

the melancholy causeway.

It was the general’s purpose to march at once on Tacuba and establish

his quarters in that ancient capital for the present. He found a strong

force encamped under its walls, prepared to dispute his entrance.

Without waiting for their advance, he rode at full gallop against them

with his little body of horse. The arquebuses and cross-bows opened a

lively volley on their extended wings, and the infantry, armed with

their swords and copper-headed lances and supported by the Indian

battalions, followed up the attack of the horse with an alacrity which

soon put the enemy to flight. The Spaniards usually opened the combat

with a charge of cavalry. But, had the science of the Aztecs been equal

to their courage, they might with their long spears have turned the

scale of battle, sometimes at least, in their own favor; for it was with

the same formidable weapon that the Swiss mountaineers, but a few years

before this period of our history, broke and completely foiled the

famous _ordonnance_ of Charles the Bold, the best-appointed cavalry of

their day. But the barbarians were ignorant of the value of this weapon

when opposed to cavalry. And, indeed, the appalling apparition of the

warhorse and his rider still held a mysterious power over their

imaginations, which contributed, perhaps, quite as much as the effective

force of the cavalry itself, to their discomfiture. Cortés led his

troops without further opposition into the suburbs of Tacuba, the

ancient Tlacopan, where he established himself for the night.

On the following morning he found the indefatigable Aztecs again under

arms, and, on the open ground before the city, prepared to give him

battle. He marched out against them, and, after an action hotly

contested, though of no long duration, again routed them. They fled

towards the town, but were driven through the streets at the point of

the lance, and were compelled, together with the inhabitants, to

evacuate the place. The city was then delivered over to pillage; and the

Indian allies, not content with plundering the houses of everything

portable within them, set them on fire, and in a short time a quarter of

the town--the poorer dwellings, probably, built of light, combustible

materials--was in flames. Cortés and his troops did all in their power

to stop the conflagration, but the Tlascalans were a fierce race, not

easily guided at any time, and when their passions were once kindled it

was impossible even for the general himself to control them. They were a

terrible auxiliary, and, from their insubordination, as terrible

sometimes to friend as to foe.[347]

Cortés proposed to remain in his present quarters for some days, during

which time he established his own residence in the ancient palace of the

lords of Tlacopan. It was a long range of low buildings, like most of

the royal residences in the country, and offered good accommodations for

the Spanish forces. During his halt here, there was not a day on which

the army was not engaged in one or more rencontres with the enemy. They

terminated almost uniformly in favor of the Spaniards, though with more

or less injury to them and to their allies. One encounter, indeed, had

nearly been attended with more fatal consequences.

The Spanish general, in the heat of pursuit, had allowed himself to be

decoyed upon the great causeway,--the same which had once been so fatal

to his army. He followed the flying foe until he had gained the farther

side of the nearest bridge, which had been repaired since the disastrous

action of the _noche triste_. When thus far advanced, the Aztecs, with

the rapidity of lightning, turned on him, and he beheld a large

reinforcement in their rear, all fresh on the field, prepared to support

their countrymen. At the same time, swarms of boats, unobserved in the

eagerness of the chase, seemed to start up as if by magic, covering the

waters around. The Spaniards were now exposed to a perfect hail-storm of

missiles, both from the causeway and the lake; but they stood unmoved

amidst the tempest, when Cortés, too late perceiving his error, gave

orders for the retreat. Slowly, and with admirable coolness, his men

receded, step by step, offering a resolute front to the enemy.[348] The

Mexicans came on with their usual vociferation, making the shores echo

to their war-cries, and striking at the Spaniards with their long pikes,

and with poles, to which the swords taken from the Christians had been

fastened. A cavalier, named Volante, bearing the standard of Cortés,

was felled by one of their weapons, and, tumbling into the lake, was

picked up by the Mexican boats. He was a man of a muscular frame, and,

as the enemy were dragging him off, he succeeded in extricating himself

from their grasp, and, clenching his colors in his hand, with a

desperate effort sprang back upon the causeway. At length, after some

hard fighting, in which many of the Spaniards were wounded and many of

their allies slain, the troops regained the land, where Cortés, with a

full heart, returned thanks to Heaven for what he might well regard as a

providential deliverance.[349] It was a salutary lesson; though he

should scarcely have needed one, so soon after the affair of

Iztapalapan, to warn him of the wily tactics of his enemy.

It had been one of Cortés’ principal objects in this expedition to

obtain an interview, if possible, with the Aztec emperor, or with some

of the great lords at his court, and to try if some means for an

accommodation could not be found, by which he might avoid the appeal to

arms. An occasion for such a parley presented itself when his forces

were one day confronted with those of the enemy, with a broken bridge

interposed between them. Cortés, riding in advance of his people,

intimated by signs his peaceful intent, and that he wished to confer

with the Aztecs. They respected the signal, and, with the aid of his

interpreter, he requested that if there were any great chief among them

he would come forward and hold a parley with him. The Mexicans replied,

in derision, they were all chiefs, and bade him speak openly whatever he

had to tell them. As the general returned no answer, they asked why he

did not make another visit to the capital, and tauntingly added,

“Perhaps Malinche does not expect to find there another Montezuma, as

obedient to his commands as the former.”[350] Some of them complimented

the Tlascalans with the epithet of _women_, who, they said, would never

have ventured so near the capital but for the protection of the white

men.

The animosity of the two nations was not confined to these harmless

though bitter jests, but showed itself in regular cartels of defiance,

which daily passed between the principal chieftains. These were followed

by combats, in which one or more champions fought on a side, to

vindicate the honor of their respective countries. A fair field of fight

was given to the warriors, who conducted these combats _à l’outrance_

with the punctilio of a European tourney; displaying a valor worthy of

the two boldest of the races of Anahuac, and a skill in the management

of their weapons, which drew forth the admiration of the Spaniards.[351]

Cortés had now been six days in Tacuba. There was nothing further to

detain him, as he had accomplished the chief objects of his expedition.

He had humbled several of the places which had been most active in

their hostility; and he had revived the credit of the Castilian arms,

which had been much tarnished by their former reverses in this quarter

of the Valley. He had also made himself acquainted with the condition of

the capital, which he found in a better posture of defence than he had

imagined. All the ravages of the preceding year seemed to be repaired,

and there was no evidence, even to his experienced eye, that the wasting

hand of war had so lately swept over the land. The Aztec troops, which

swarmed through the Valley, seemed to be well appointed, and showed an

invincible spirit, as if prepared to resist to the last. It is true,

they had been beaten in every encounter. In the open field they were no

match for the Spaniards, whose cavalry they could never comprehend, and

whose fire-arms easily penetrated the cotton mail which formed the

stoutest defence of the Indian warrior. But, entangled in the long

streets and narrow lanes of the metropolis, where every house was a

citadel, the Spaniards, as experience had shown, would lose much of

their superiority. With the Mexican emperor, confident in the strength

of his preparations, the general saw there was no probability of

effecting an accommodation. He saw, too, the necessity of the most

careful preparations on his own part--indeed, that he must strain his

resources to the utmost--before he could safely venture to rouse the

lion in his lair.

The Spaniards returned by the same route by which they had come. Their

retreat was interpreted into a flight by the natives, who hung on the

rear of the army, uttering vainglorious vaunts, and saluting the troops

with showers of arrows, which did some mischief. Cortés resorted to one

of their own stratagems to rid himself of this annoyance. He divided his

cavalry into two or three small parties, and concealed them among some

thick shrubbery which fringed both sides of the road. The rest of the

army continued its march. The Mexicans followed, unsuspicious of the

ambuscade, when the horse, suddenly darting from their place of

concealment, threw the enemy’s flanks into confusion, and the retreating

columns of infantry, facing about suddenly, commenced a brisk attack,

which completed their consternation. It was a broad and level plain,

over which the panic-struck Mexicans made the best of their way, without

attempting resistance; while the cavalry, riding them down and piercing

the fugitives with their lances, followed up the chase for several

miles, in what Cortés calls a truly beautiful style.[352] The army

experienced no further annoyance from the enemy.

On their arrival at Tezcuco they were greeted with joy by their

comrades, who had received no tidings of them during the fortnight which

had elapsed since their departure. The Tlascalans, immediately on their

return, requested the general’s permission to carry back to their own

country the valuable booty which they had gathered in their foray,--a

request which, however unpalatable, he could not refuse.[353]

The troops had not been in quarters more than two or three days, when an

embassy arrived from Chalco, again soliciting the protection of the

Spaniards against the Mexicans, who menaced them from several points in

their neighborhood. But the soldiers were so much exhausted by

unintermitted vigils, forced marches, battles, and wounds, that Cortés

wished to give them a breathing-time to recruit, before engaging in a

new expedition. He answered the application of the Chalcans by sending

his missives to the allied cities, calling on them to march to the

assistance of their confederate. It is not to be supposed that they

could comprehend the import of his despatches. But the paper, with its

mysterious characters, served for a warrant to the officer who bore it,

as the interpreter of the general’s commands.

But, although these were implicitly obeyed, the Chalcans felt the danger

so pressing that they soon repeated their petition for the Spaniards to

come in person to their relief. Cortés no longer hesitated; for he was

well aware of the importance of Chalco, not merely on its own account,

but from its position, which commanded one of the great avenues to

Tlascala, and to Vera Cruz, the intercourse with which should run no

risk of interruption. Without further loss of time, therefore, he

detached a body of three hundred Spanish foot and twenty horse, under

the command of Sandoval, for the protection of the city.

That active officer soon presented himself before Chalco, and,

strengthened by the reinforcement of its own troops and those of the

confederate towns, directed his first operations against Huaxtepec, a

place of some importance, lying five leagues or more to the south among

the mountains. It was held by a strong Mexican force, watching their

opportunity to make a descent upon Chalco. The Spaniards found the enemy

drawn up at a distance from the town, prepared to receive them. The

ground was broken and tangled with bushes, unfavorable to the cavalry,

which, in consequence, soon fell into disorder; and Sandoval, finding

himself embarrassed by their movements, ordered them, after sustaining

some loss, from the field. In their place he brought up his musketeers

and crossbowmen, who poured a rapid fire into the thick columns of the

Indians. The rest of the infantry, with sword and pike, charged the

flanks of the enemy, who, bewildered by the shock, after sustaining

considerable slaughter, fell back in an irregular manner, leaving the

field of battle to the Spaniards.

The victors proposed to bivouac there for the night. But, while engaged

in preparations for their evening meal, they were aroused by the cry of

“To arms, to arms! the enemy is upon us!” In an instant the trooper was

in his saddle, the soldier grasped his musket or his good Toledo, and

the action was renewed with greater fury than before. The Mexicans had

received a reinforcement from the city. But their second attempt was not

more fortunate than their first; and the victorious Spaniards, driving

their antagonists before them, entered and took possession of the town

itself, which had already been evacuated by the inhabitants.[354]

Sandoval took up his quarters in the dwelling of the lord of the place,

surrounded by gardens which rivalled those of Iztapalapan in

magnificence and surpassed them in extent. They are said to have been

two leagues in circumference, having pleasure-houses, and numerous tanks

stocked with various kinds of fish; and they were embellished with

trees, shrubs, and plants, native and exotic, some selected for their

beauty and fragrance, others for their medicinal properties. They were

scientifically arranged; and the whole establishment displayed a degree

of horticultural taste and knowledge of which it would not have been

easy to find a counterpart, at that day, in the more civilized

communities of Europe.[355] Such is the testimony not only of the rude

Conquerors, but of men of science, who visited these beautiful

repositories in the day of their glory.[356]

After halting two days to refresh his forces in this agreeable spot,

Sandoval marched on Jacapichtla, about twelve miles to the eastward. It

was a town, or rather fortress, perched on a rocky eminence almost

inaccessible from its steepness. It was garrisoned by a Mexican force,

who rolled down on the assailants, as they attempted to scale the

heights, huge fragments of rock, which, thundering over the sides of the

precipice, carried ruin and desolation in their path. The Indian

confederates fell back in dismay from the attempt. But Sandoval,

indignant that any achievement should be too difficult for a Spaniard,

commanded his cavaliers to dismount, and, declaring that he “would carry

the place or die in the attempt,” led on his men with the cheering cry

of “St. Jago.”[357] With renewed courage, they now followed their

gallant leader up the ascent, under a storm of lighter missiles, mingled

with huge masses of stone, which, breaking into splinters, overturned

the assailants and made fearful havoc in their ranks. Sandoval, who had

been wounded on the preceding day, received a severe contusion on the

head, while more than one of his brave comrades were struck down by his

side. Still they clambered up, sustaining themselves by the bushes or

projecting pieces of rock, and seemed to force themselves onward as much

by the energy of their wills as by the strength of their bodies.

After incredible toil, they stood on the summit, face to face with the

astonished garrison. For a moment they paused to recover breath, then

sprang furiously on their foes. The struggle was short, but desperate.

Most of the Aztecs were put to the sword. Some were thrown headlong over

the battlements, and others letting themselves down the precipice, were

killed on the borders of a little stream that wound round its base, the

waters of which were so polluted with blood that the victors were unable

to slake their thirst with them for a full hour![358]

Sandoval, having now accomplished the object of his expedition, by

reducing the strongholds which had so long held the Chalcans in awe,

returned in triumph to Tezcuco. Meanwhile, the Aztec emperor, whose

vigilant eye had been attentive to all that had passed, thought that the

absence of so many of its warriors afforded a favorable opportunity for

recovering Chalco. He sent a fleet of boats, for this purpose, across

the lake, with a numerous force under the command of some of his most

valiant chiefs.[359] Fortunately, the absent Chalcans reached their

city before the arrival of the enemy; but, though supported by their

Indian allies, they were so much alarmed by the magnitude of the hostile

array that they sent again to the Spaniards, invoking their aid.

The messengers arrived at the same time with Sandoval and his army.

Cortés was much puzzled by the contradictory accounts. He suspected some

negligence in his lieutenant, and, displeased with his precipitate

return in this unsettled state of the affair, ordered him back at once,

with such of his forces as were in fighting condition. Sandoval felt

deeply injured by this proceeding, but he made no attempt at

exculpation, and, obeying his commander in silence, put himself at the

head of his troops and made a rapid countermarch on the Indian

city.[360]

Before he reached it, a battle had been fought between the Mexicans and

the confederates, in which the latter, who had acquired unwonted

confidence from their recent successes, were victorious. A number of

Aztec nobles fell into their hands in the engagement, whom they

delivered to Sandoval to be carried off as prisoners to Tezcuco. On his

arrival there, the cavalier, wounded by the unworthy treatment he had

received, retired to his own quarters without presenting himself before

his chief.

During his absence, the inquiries of Cortés had satisfied him of his own

precipitate conduct, and of the great injustice he had done his

lieutenant. There was no man in the army on whose services he set so

high a value, as the responsible situations in which he had placed him

plainly showed; and there was none for whom he seems to have entertained

a greater personal regard. On Sandoval’s return, therefore, Cortés

instantly sent to request his attendance; when, with a soldier’s

frankness, he made such an explanation as soothed the irritated spirit

of the cavalier,--a matter of no great difficulty, as the latter had too

generous a nature, and too earnest a devotion to his commander and the

cause in which they were embarked, to harbor a petty feeling of

resentment in his bosom.[361]

During the occurrence of these events the work was going forward

actively on the canal, and the brigantines were within a fortnight of

their completion. The greatest vigilance was required, in the mean time,

to prevent their destruction by the enemy, who had already made three

ineffectual attempts to burn them on the stocks. The precautions which

Cortés thought it necessary to take against the Tezcucans themselves

added not a little to his embarrassment.

At this time he received embassies from different Indian states, some of

them on the remote shores of the Mexican Gulf, tendering their

allegiance and soliciting his protection. For this he was partly

indebted to the good offices of Ixtlilxochitl, who, in consequence of

his brother’s death, was now advanced to the sovereignty of Tezcuco.

This important position greatly increased his consideration and

authority through the country, of which he freely availed himself to

bring the natives under the dominion of the Spaniards.[362]

The general received also at this time the welcome intelligence of the

arrival of three vessels at Villa Rica, with two hundred men on board,

well provided with arms and ammunition, and with seventy or eighty

horses. It was the most seasonable reinforcement. From what quarter it

came is uncertain; most probably from Hispaniola. Cortés, it may be

remembered, had sent for supplies to that place; and the authorities of

the island, who had general jurisdiction over the affairs of the

colonies, had shown themselves, on more than one occasion, well inclined

towards him, probably considering him, under all circumstances, as

better fitted than any other man to achieve the conquest of the

country.[363]

The new recruits soon found their way to Tezcuco; as the communications

with the port were now open and unobstructed. Among them were several

cavaliers of consideration, one of whom, Julian de Alderete, the royal

treasurer, came over to superintend the interests of the crown.

There was also in the number a Dominican friar, who brought a quantity

of pontifical bulls, offering indulgences to those engaged in war

against the infidel. The soldiers were not slow to fortify themselves

with the good graces of the Church; and the worthy father, after driving

a prosperous traffic with his spiritual wares, had the satisfaction to

return home, at the end of a few months, well freighted, in exchange,

with the more substantial treasures of the Indies.[364]

CHAPTER III

SECOND RECONNOITRING EXPEDITION--ENGAGEMENTS ON THE SIERRA--CAPTURE

OF CUERNAVACA--BATTLES AT XOCHIMILCO--NARROW ESCAPE OF CORTÉS--HE

ENTERS TACUBA

1521

Notwithstanding the relief which had been afforded to the people of

Chalco, it was so ineffectual that envoys from that city again arrived

at Tezcuco, bearing a hieroglyphical chart, on which were depicted

several strong places in their neighborhood, garrisoned by the Aztecs,

from which they expected annoyance. Cortés determined, this time, to

take the affair into his own hands, and to scour the country so

effectually as to place Chalco, if possible, in a state of security. He

did not confine himself to this object, but proposed, before his return,

to pass quite round the great lakes, and reconnoitre the country to the

south of them, in the same manner as he had before done to the west. In

the course of his march he would direct his arms against some of the

strong places from which the Mexicans might expect support in the siege.

Two or three weeks must elapse before the completion of the brigantines;

and, if no other good resulted from the expedition, it would give

active occupation to his troops, whose turbulent spirits might fester

into discontent in the monotonous existence of a camp.

He selected for the expedition thirty horse and three hundred Spanish

infantry, with a considerable body of Tlascalan and Tezcucan warriors.

The remaining garrison he left in charge of the trusty Sandoval, who,

with the friendly lord of the capital, would watch over the construction

of the brigantines and protect them from the assaults of the Aztecs.

On the fifth of April he began his march, and on the following day

arrived at Chalco, where he was met by a number of the confederate

chiefs. With the aid of his faithful interpreters, Doña Marina and

Aguilar, he explained to them the objects of his present expedition,

stated his purpose soon to enforce the blockade of Mexico, and required

their co-operation with the whole strength of their levies. To this they

readily assented; and he soon received a sufficient proof of their

friendly disposition in the forces which joined him on the march,

amounting, according to one of the army, to more than had ever before

followed his banner.[365]

Taking a southerly direction, the troops, after leaving Chalco, struck

into the recesses of the wild sierra, which, with its bristling peaks,

serves as a formidable palisade to fence round the beautiful Valley;

while within its rugged arms it shuts up many a green and fruitful

pasture of its own. As the Spaniards passed through its deep gorges,

they occasionally wound round the base of some huge cliff or rocky

eminence, on which the inhabitants had built their towns, in the same

manner as was done by the people of Europe in the feudal ages; a

position which, however favorable to the picturesque, intimates a sense

of insecurity as the cause of it, which may reconcile us to the absence

of this striking appendage of the landscape in our own more fortunate

country.

The occupants of these airy pinnacles took advantage of their situation

to shower down stones and arrows on the troops as they defiled through

the narrow passes of the sierra. Though greatly annoyed by their

incessant hostilities, Cortés held on his way, till, winding round the

base of a castellated cliff occupied by a strong garrison of Indians, he

was so severely pressed that he felt to pass on without chastising the

aggressors would imply a want of strength which must disparage him in

the eyes of his allies. Halting in the Valley, therefore, he detached a

small body of light troops to scale the heights, while he remained with

the main body of the army below, to guard against surprise from the

enemy.

The lower region of the rocky eminence was so steep that the soldiers

found it no easy matter to ascend, scrambling, as well as they could,

with hand and knee. But, as they came into the more exposed view of the

garrison, the latter rolled down huge masses of rock, which, bounding

along the declivity and breaking into fragments, crushed the foremost

assailants and mangled their limbs in a frightful manner. Still they

strove to work their way upward, now taking advantage of some gully worn

by the winter torrent, now sheltering themselves behind a projecting

cliff, or some straggling tree anchored among the crevices of the

mountain. It was all in vain. For no sooner did they emerge again into

open view than the rocky avalanche thundered on their heads with a fury

against which steel helm and cuirass were as little defence as gossamer.

All the party were more or less wounded. Eight of the number were killed

on the spot,--a loss the little band could ill afford,--and the gallant

ensign, Corral, who led the advance, saw the banner in his hand torn

into shreds.[366] Cortés, at length, convinced of the impracticability

of the attempt, at least without a more severe loss than he was disposed

to incur, commanded a retreat. It was high time; for a large body of the

enemy were on full march across the Valley to attack him.

He did not wait for their approach, but, gathering his broken files

together, headed his cavalry and spurred boldly against them. On the

level plain the Spaniards were on their own ground. The Indians, unable

to sustain the furious onset, broke, and fell back before it. The flight

soon became a rout, and the fiery cavaliers, dashing over them at full

gallop, or running them through with their lances, took some revenge for

their late discomfiture. The pursuit continued for some miles, till the

nimble foe made their escape into the rugged fastnesses of the sierra,

where the Spaniards did not care to follow. The weather was sultry, and,

as the country was nearly destitute of water, the men and horses

suffered extremely. Before evening they reached a spot overshadowed by a

grove of wild mulberry-trees, in which some scanty springs afforded a

miserable supply to the army.

Near the place rose another rocky summit of the sierra, garrisoned by a

stronger force than the one which they had encountered in the former

part of the day; and at no great distance stood a second fortress at a

still greater height, though considerably smaller than its neighbor.

This was also tenanted by a body of warriors, who, as well as those of

the adjoining cliff, soon made active demonstration of their hostility

by pouring down missiles on the troops below. Cortés, anxious to

retrieve the disgrace of the morning, ordered an assault on the larger

and, as it seemed, more practicable eminence. But, though two attempts

were made with great resolution, they were repulsed with loss to the

assailants. The rocky sides of the hill had been artificially cut and

smoothed, so as greatly to increase the natural difficulties of the

ascent. The shades of evening now closed around; and Cortés drew off his

men to the mulberry-grove, where he took up his bivouac for the night,

deeply chagrined at having been twice foiled by the enemy on the same

day.

During the night, the Indian force which occupied the adjoining height

passed over to their brethren, to aid them in the encounter which they

foresaw would be renewed on the following morning. No sooner did the

Spanish general, at the break of day, become aware of this manœuvre,

than, with his usual quickness, he took advantage of it. He detached a

body of musketeers and crossbowmen to occupy the deserted eminence,

purposing, as soon as this was done, to lead the assault in person

against the other. It was not long before the Castilian banner was seen

streaming from the rocky pinnacle, when the general instantly led up his

men to the attack. And, while the garrison were meeting them resolutely

on that quarter, the detachment on the neighboring heights poured into

the place a well-directed fire, which so much distressed the enemy that

in a very short time they signified their willingness to

capitulate.[367]

On entering the place, the Spaniards found that a plain of some extent

ran along the crest of the sierra, and that it was tenanted not only by

men, but by women and their families, with their effects. No violence

was offered by the victors to the property or persons of the vanquished;

and the knowledge of this lenity induced the Indian garrison, who had

made so stout a resistance on the morning of the preceding day, to

tender their submission.[368]

After a halt of two days in this sequestered region, the army resumed

its march in a southwesterly direction on Huaxtepec, the same city which

had surrendered to Sandoval. Here they were kindly received by the

cacique, and entertained in his magnificent gardens, which Cortés and

his officers, who had not before seen them, compared with the best in

Castile.[369] Still threading the wild mountain mazes, the army passed

through Jauhtepec and several other places, which were abandoned at

their approach. As the inhabitants, however, hung in armed bodies on

their flanks and rear, doing them occasionally some mischief, the

Spaniards took their revenge by burning the deserted towns.

Thus holding on their fiery track, they descended the bold slope of the

Cordilleras, which on the south are far more precipitous than on the

Atlantic side. Indeed, a single day’s journey is sufficient to place the

traveller on a level several thousand feet lower than that occupied by

him in the morning; thus conveying him, in a few hours, through the

climates of many degrees of latitude. The route of the army led them

across many an acre covered with lava and blackened scoriæ, attesting

the volcanic character of the region; though this was frequently

relieved by patches of verdure, and even tracts of prodigal fertility,

as if Nature were desirous to compensate by these extraordinary efforts

for the curse of barrenness which elsewhere had fallen on the land. On

the ninth day of their march the troops arrived before the strong city

of Quauhnahuac, or Cuernavaca, as since called by the Spaniards.[370] It

was the ancient capital of the Tlahuicas, and the most considerable

place for wealth and population in this part of the country. It was

tributary to the Aztecs, and a garrison of this nation was quartered

within its walls. The town was singularly situated, on a projecting

piece of land, encompassed by _barrancas_, or formidable ravines, except

on one side, which opened on a rich and well-cultivated country. For

though the place stood at an elevation of between five and six thousand

feet above the level of the sea, it had a southern exposure so sheltered

by the mountain barrier on the north that its climate was as soft and

genial as that of a much lower region.

The Spaniards, on arriving before the city, the limit of their southerly

progress, found themselves separated from it by one of the vast

barrancas before noticed, which resembled one of those frightful rents

not unfrequent in the Mexican Andes, the result, no doubt, of some

terrible convulsion in earlier ages. The rocky sides of the ravine sank

perpendicularly down, so bare as scarcely to exhibit even a vestige of

the cactus, or of the other hardy plants with which Nature in these

fruitful regions so gracefully covers up her deformities. The bottom of

the chasm, however, showed a striking contrast to this, being literally

choked up with a rich and spontaneous vegetation; for the huge walls of

rock which shut in these barrancas, while they screen them from the cold

winds of the Cordilleras, reflect the rays of a vertical sun, so as to

produce an almost suffocating heat in the enclosure, stimulating the

soil to the rank fertility of the _tierra caliente_. Under the action of

this forcing apparatus,--so to speak,--the inhabitants of the towns on

their margin above may with ease obtain the vegetable products which are

to be found on the sultry level of the lowlands.{*}

{*} [“The whole of this description,” remarks Alaman, “agrees perfectly

with the present aspect of Cuernavaca and the _barrancas_ surrounding

it.”--K.]

At the bottom of the ravine was seen a little stream, which, oozing from

the stony bowels of the sierra, tumbled along its narrow channel and

contributed by its perpetual moisture to the exuberant fertility of the

valley. This rivulet, which at certain seasons of the year was swollen

to a torrent, was traversed at some distance below the town, where the

sloping sides of the barranca afforded a more practicable passage, by

two rude bridges, both of which had been broken, in anticipation of the

coming of the Spaniards. The latter had now arrived on the brink of the

chasm which intervened between them and the city. It was, as has been

remarked, of no great width, and the army drawn up on its borders was

directly exposed to the archery of the garrison, on whom its own fire

made little impression, protected as they were by their defences.