What Cortes would have done further can only be surmised. Something

happened suddenly which forced his hand. In the spring, Montezuma

received word through an excellent corps of messengers which supplied

him daily with information from all parts of the empire, of the arrival

of a strange Spanish force on the coast. Mexico had no writing, but

its messenger system was one of the best in the world. Messengers

arrived daily from the farthest parts and confines of the Mexican

empire, supplementing pictures, which the Mexicans drew very cleverly,

with verbal accounts. Incidentally, there was no money in the empire,

either. The art of coinage had not been attained.

IX. The Revolt of the Capital

Cortes was naturally much interested and not a little perturbed by the

news. Soon the exact tidings reached him from the commander at Vera

Cruz, that the force consisted of some twelve hundred men, including

eighty horse, all under the command of one Panfilo de Narvaez, which

had been organized, equipped and sent out by Cortes' old enemy,

Velasquez, with instructions to seize him and his companions and send

them back to Cuba for trial. Narvaez was loud in his threats of what

he was going to do with Cortes and how he was going to do it.

The great Spaniard acted with his usual promptness. He left in charge

of the city one Pedro de Alvarado, called from his fair hair, Tonatiuh,

or the {175} child of the sun. Committing the care of Montezuma to

this cavalier and bidding him watch over him and guard him with his

life, as the safety of all depended upon him, Cortes with some two

hundred and fifty men made a dash for the coast. It was two hundred

and fifty against five times that number, but with the two hundred and

fifty was a man whose mere presence equalized conditions, while with

the twelve hundred and fifty was another whose braggart foolishness

diminished their superiority until, in the end, it really amounted to

nothing!

Cortes actually surprised Narvaez in the town in which he had taken

refuge and seized him after an attack--a night surprise of bold and

audacious conception--by the two hundred and fifty against the twelve

hundred which was completely successful. With Narvaez in Cortes's

hands all opposition ceased on the part of the men. In one swoop

Narvaez lost power, position and one eye, which had been knocked out

during the contest, and Cortes found his following reinforced by so

great a number and quality that he had never dreamed of such a thing.

"You are, indeed, fortunate," said Narvaez to his conqueror, "in having

captured me."

"It is," said Cortes carelessly, "the least of the things I have done

in Mexico!"

While affairs were thus progressing favorably on the coast, the

smouldering rebellion had at last broken out in Mexico, and Cortes

received a message from Alvarado, bidding him return with all possible

speed. There was not a braver soldier, a fiercer fighter, or a more

resolute man in the following of Cortes than Pedro de Alvarado. When

that has been said, however, practically all has been said that can be

said in {176} his favor. He was a rash, impetuous, reckless,

head-long, tactless, unscrupulous man, and brutal and cruel to a high

degree.

His suspicions that the Aztecs, led by Montezuma, were conspiring to

overwhelm his small force were aroused. It is probable that there was

some truth in his apprehensions, although he could not point to

anything very definite upon which to base them. He knew of but one way

to deal with such a situation--by brute force. He waited until the

great May Festival of the Aztecs was being held, and then fell upon

them in the midst of their joyous play and slew six hundred, including

many of the noblest chiefs of the land. The outbreak was instant and

universal. The house of Ayxacatl was at once besieged, the influx of

provisions was stopped, and the pueblo was surrounded by vast numbers

of thoroughly enraged citizens. Neither the Spaniards nor the allies

could leave the pueblo without being overwhelmed. Alvarado at last

compelled Montezuma to show himself on the walls and bid the people

stop fighting, to enable him to strengthen his position and hold it

until the arrival of Cortes, and some fifteen hundred men, his own

force and that of Narvaez combined.

When the conqueror met Alvarado he upbraided him and told him that he

had behaved like a madman. There was little or no provision. Cortes

now made the mistake of sending Cuitlahua, the brother of Montezuma,

out into the city with instructions for him to have the markets opened

at once and secure provisions for the Spaniards and their horses.

Cuitlahua, being free, called the council of priests. This council at

once deposed Montezuma and elected Cuitlahua {177} emperor and priest

in his place. The revolution and the religion now had a head.

The next morning an attack of such force was delivered that many of

even the stoutest-hearted Spaniards quailed before it. The slaughter

of the natives was terrific. The Spanish cannon opened long lanes

through the crowded streets. The Spanish horse sallied forth and

hacked and hewed broad pathways up the different avenues. Still, the

attack was pressed and was as intrepid as if not a single Aztec had

died. The roar that came up from every quarter of the city, from the

house tops, from the crowded streets, from the Temples, was in itself

enough to appall the bravest.

X. In God's Way

Finally Cortes resorted to Alvarado's expedient. He compelled the

unhappy Montezuma to mount the walls of the palace and bid the people

disperse. When he appeared in all his splendid panoply upon the roof

of the palace there was a strange silence. He was no longer priest, he

was no longer emperor, he was no longer a power, he was no longer a

god, but some of the old divinity seemed to cling to him, to linger

around him still. The situation was so tragic that even the meanest

soldier, Mexican or Spanish, felt its import. A long time the Aztec

looked over his once smiling capital, and into the faces of his once

subordinate people. Finally he began to address them. He bade them

lay down their arms and disperse.

The people, led by the great lords and Montezuma's brother, Cuitlahua,

and his nephew, Guatemoc, answered with a roar of rage, and the roar

spread as the purport of the message was communicated to those {178}

further back. Montezuma stood appalled. The next instant a rain of

missiles was actually launched at him and the Spaniards who stood by

his side. A stone hurled, it is said by young Guatemoc, struck him in

the forehead. He reeled and fell. With the bitter words: "Woman!

woman!" ringing in his ears, he was carried away by the Spaniards. His

face, says Lew Wallace, was the face of a man "breaking because he was

in God's way!" He lived a few days after that, but he refused to eat,

and repeatedly tore the bandages from his wounds until death put an end

to his miseries. The stone that had struck him had broken his heart.

Neither Cortes nor Montezuma himself knew that he had been deposed.

Cortes and the principal Spaniards visited him and endeavoured to

console him, but he turned his face to the wall and would have none of

them. It was said afterward that he became a Christian, but it is most

probably not true. He died as he had lived. Helps thus describes the

scene and the great Montezuma's end:

[Illustration: The Death of Montezuma. From an old engraving.]

"He was surrounded by Spanish soldiers, and was at first received with

all respect and honor by his people. When silence ensued, he addressed

them in very loving words, bidding them discontinue the attack, and

assuring them that the Spaniards would depart from Mexico. It is not

probable that much of his discourse could have been heard by the raging

multitude. But, on the other hand, he was able to hear what their

leaders had to say, as four of the chiefs approached near him, and with

tears addressed him, declaring their grief at his imprisonment. They

told him that they had chosen his brother as their leader, that they

had vowed to their gods not to cease fighting {179} until the Spaniards

were all destroyed, and that each day they prayed to their gods to keep

him free and harmless. They added, that when their designs were

accomplished, he should be much more their lord than heretofore, and

that he should then pardon them. Amongst the crowd, however, were,

doubtless, men who viewed the conduct of Montezuma with intense

disgust, or who thought that they had already shown too much disrespect

toward him ever to be pardoned. A shower of stones and arrows

interrupted the parley; the Spanish soldiers had ceased for the moment

to protect Montezuma with their shields; and he was severely wounded in

the head and in two other places. The miserable monarch was borne

away, having received his death-stroke; but whether it came from the

wounds themselves, or from the indignity of being thus treated by his

people, remains a doubtful point. It seems, however, that, to use some

emphatic words which have been employed upon a similar occasion: 'He

turned his face to the wall, and would be troubled no more.'

[Illustration: "He Defended Himself With His Terrible Spear"]

"It is remarkable that he did not die like a Christian,[6] and I think

this shows that he had more force of mind and purpose than the world

has generally been inclined to give him credit for. To read

Montezuma's character rightly, at this distance of time, and amidst

such a wild perplexity of facts, would be very difficult, and is not

very important. But one thing, {180} I think, is discernible, and that

is, that his manners were very gracious and graceful. I dwell upon

this, because I conceive it was a characteristic of the race; and no

one will estimate this characteristic lightly, who has observed how

very rare, even in the centres of civilized life, it is to find people

of fine manners, so that in great capitals but very few persons can be

pointed out who are at all transcendent in this respect. The gracious

delight which Montezuma had in giving was particularly noticeable; and

the impression which he made upon Bernal Diaz may be seen in the

narrative of this simple soldier, who never speaks of him otherwise as

'the great Montezuma'; and, upon the occasion of his death, remarks

that some of the Spanish soldiers who had known him mourned for him as

if he had been a father, 'and no wonder,' he adds, 'seeing that he was

so good.'"

Cortes sent out the body to the new king, and Montezuma was mourned

over by the Spaniards, to whom he had always been gracious, and

probably, by his own people; but little could be learned of what the

Mexicans thought, or did, upon the occasion, by the Spaniards, who only

saw that Montezuma's death made no difference in the fierceness of the

enemy's attack.

Meanwhile the situation of the Spaniards was indescribable. There was

mutiny and rebellion among them. The soldiers of Narvaez, who looked

for a pleasant promenade through a land of peace and plenty, were

appalled. There was daily, desperate fighting. The Mexicans had

manned the temple of the war-god which overlooked the Spanish pueblo,

and Cortes determined to capture it. With a large body of chosen men

he attempted its escalade. It was crowded to the very top with the

most resolute {181} Aztecs, and they fought for it with the courage of

fanaticism and despair itself. The feather shields were no match for

the steel cuirasses. The wooden clubs, stuck full of sharp pieces of

obsidian, could not compete on equal terms with the Toledo blades.

Step by step, terrace by terrace, the Spaniards fought their way to the

very top. As if by mutual consent, the contests in the streets stopped

and all eyes were turned upon this battle in the air.

Arriving at the great plateau upon the crest, the Spaniards were met by

five hundred of the noblest Aztecs, who, animated by their priests,

made the last desperate stand for the altars of their gods.

"And how can men die better,

Than in facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of their Fathers,

And the temples of their Gods?"

In the course of the terrific conflict which ensued, two of the bravest

leaped upon Cortes, wrapped their arms around him, and attempted to

throw themselves off the top of the temple, devoting themselves to

death, if so be, they might compass their bold design. It was on the

very verge of eternity that Cortes tore himself free from them.

Singled out for attack because of his position and because of his

fearlessness in battle, his life was saved again and again by his

followers, until it seemed to be miraculously preserved.

After a stupendous struggle the summit of the temple was carried. Amid

the groans of the populace, the Spaniards tumbled down from its

resting-place the hideous image of the war-god, and completed in Aztec

eyes the desecration of the temple. They were victorious, but they had

paid a price. Dead Spaniards {182} dotted the terraces, the sunlight,

gleaming on their armor, picking them out amid the dark, naked bodies

of the Mexicans. Of those who had survived the encounter, there was

scarcely one but had sustained one or more wounds, some of them fearful

in character. The Mexicans had not died in vain.

Leaving a guard at the temple, Cortes came back to the garrison. The

attack was resumed at once by the natives. Attempts were made to burn

the thatched roofs of the pueblo. A rain of missiles was poured upon

it. The Spaniards made sally after sally, inflicting great slaughter,

but losing always a little themselves. The Aztecs would sometimes

seize a Spaniard and bear him off alive to sacrifice him on some high

pyramid temple in full view of his wretched comrades below. The

Spaniards fired cannon after cannon, but to no avail. They were

starving, they were becoming sick, and they were covered with wounds;

their allies, who took part gallantly in all the hard fighting,

suffered frightful losses. It was at last reluctantly agreed among the

leaders that their only salvation was the evacuation of the city.

XI. The Melancholy Night

Although the course thus thrust upon them was indeed a hard one, there

was nothing else to be done. Sick, wounded, starving, dying, they

could by no means maintain themselves longer in the city. Fight as

they might and would, the end would come speedily, and would mean

annihilation. Happy in that event would be those who died upon the

field, for every living captive, whatever his condition, would be

reserved for that frightful sacrifice to the war-god, in which his

{183} body would be opened, and his reeking heart torn, almost while

still beating, from his breast. To retreat was almost as dangerous as

it was to remain. It was certain, however, that some would get through

in that attempt, although it was equally certain that many would not.

Cortes, mustering his soldiers and allies, after a day of

heart-breaking fighting, disclosed the situation to them in blunt

soldier-like words, although they all knew it as well as he, and then

the hasty preparations began. A vast treasure had been amassed by the

Spaniards. Making an effort to preserve the fifth portion of it, which

by law belonged to the King, Cortes threw open the treasure chamber and

bade the rest help themselves. He cautioned them, however, that those

who went the lightest, would have the greatest prospects for escape, a

warning which many, especially among those who had come to the country

with Narvaez, chose to disregard.

The causeway along which they determined to fly and which connected

Mexico with the mainland was pierced at intervals to admit passage from

one portion of the lake to the other. The bridges which usually

covered these openings had been taken away by the Aztecs. Cortes

caused a temporary bridge or pontoon to be built which was to be

carried with the fugitives to enable them to pass the openings.

The night was the first of July, 1520. It was pitch dark and a heavy

rain was falling. The forces consisted of twelve hundred and fifty

Spaniards, of whom eighty were mounted, and six thousand Tlascalans.

They were divided into three divisions. The advance was under the

command of Juan Valesquez, Cortes led the main body, and the rear was

put in the charge {184} of the rash, cruel, but heroic Alvarado. The

less severely wounded were supported by their comrades, and those

unable to walk were carried on litters or mounted on horses. Montezuma

had died the night before. Any lingering hopes of being able to effect

peace through his influence had departed. Leaving everything they

could not carry, the Spaniards, after prayer, confession and

absolution, threw open the gates,[7] and entered the city.

Midnight was approaching. The streets and avenues were silent and

deserted. The retreat proceeded cautiously for a little way,

unmolested, when suddenly a deep, booming sound roared like thunder

over the heads of the Spaniards, through the black night, filling their

hearts with alarm. Cortes recognized it at once. The Aztecs were

awake and ready. The priests in the great teocallis, or temple

pyramids, were beating the great drum of the war-god, Huitzilopocahtli.

Lights appeared here and there in the town, the clashing of arms was

heard here and there on the broad avenues. Under the lights farther up

the streets could be seen files of troops moving. The hour was full of

portent.

Dragging their artillery, carrying their wounded, bearing their

treasure, the Spaniards and their allies passed rapidly through the

streets. Before the advance reached the first opening in the causeway

it was already hotly engaged. The water on either side of the

cause-way suddenly swarmed with canoes. Spears, javelins, arrows,

heavy war-clubs with jagged pieces of obsidian were hurled upon the

Spaniards on the causeway. In front of them, almost, it seemed, for

the whole length, the {185} Indians were massed. Step by step, by the

hardest kind of hand-to-hand fighting, the Spaniards and their allies

arrived at the first opening. Their loss had been frightful already.

They were surrounded and attacked from all sides. Indians scrambled up

the low banks in the darkness, seized the feet of the flying Spaniards

and strove to draw them into the water. Many a white man, many a

Tlascalan locked in the savage embrace of some heroic Aztec, stumbled

or was dragged into the lake and was drowned in the struggle. The

frightened horses reared and plunged and created great confusion. The

golden treasure with which many had loaded themselves proved a

frightful incumbrance. Those who could do so, flung it away; those too

bitterly occupied in fighting for their lives could do little but

drive, thrust, hew, hack and struggle in the dark and slippery way.

But the army did advance. Arriving at the brink of the first opening,

the bridge was brought up and the division began its passage. It had

scarcely crossed the gap when under the pressure of tremendous fear,

the second division, in spite of all that could be done to refrain and

control them by Cortes and his officers--and there were no braver men

on earth--crowded on the frail bridge. The structure which was

sufficiently strong for ordinary and orderly passage, gave way,

precipitating a great mass of Spaniards and Indians into the causeway.

Cortes with his own hands, assisted by a few of the cooler veterans,

tried to lift up the shattered remains of the bridge but was unable to

do anything with it. It was ruined beyond repair, and sank into a

splintered mass of timber under the terrific pressure to which it had

been subjected. A passage at that gap was afforded to those who came

{186} after because it was filled level with dead bodies of Spaniards,

Indians and horses, to say nothing of guns, baggage and equipment.

By this time the advance guard was again heavily engaged. The

Spaniards and their allies staggered along the dyke, fighting

desperately all the time. Velasquez, leading the advance division was

killed at the brink of the second opening. The wretched fugitives were

driven headlong into the second opening which was soon choked with

horses and men as the first had been. Over this living, dying bridge

the survivors madly ploughed. Some of them led by Cortes himself found

a ford on the side. Although they were cut down by the hundreds, there

seemed to be no end to the Aztecs. The rain still fell. The drum of

the war-god mingled with frightful peals of thunder, and the shrill

cries of the Mexicans rose higher and higher. The Spaniards were sick,

wounded, beaten and terrified. Only Cortes and his captains and a few

of his veterans preserved the slightest semblance of organization.

The third gap was passed by the same awful expedient as the other two

had been. There was not a great distance from the third opening to the

mainland. The few who had passed over rushed desperately for the

shore. Way back in the rear, last of all, came Alvarado. There was a

strange current in the lake, and as he stood all alone at the last

opening, confronting the pursuers, his horse having been killed under

him, a swift movement of the water swept away the gorged mass of

bodies. Torches in the canoes enabled the Aztecs to recognize

Alvarado, Tonatiuh, the child of the sun. His helmet had been knocked

off and his fair hair streamed over his shoulders. He indeed would

{187} be a prize for their sacrifice, second only to Cortes himself.

With furious cries, the most reckless and intrepid leaped upon the dyke

and rushed at him. At his feet lay his neglected lance. Dropping his

sword, he seized his spear, swiftly plunged the point of it into the

sand at the bottom of the pass, and, weighted though he was with his

armor, and weak from his wounds and from the loss of blood, leaped to

safety on the other side. To this day, this place of Alvarado's

marvelous leap is pointed out. Like Ney, Alvarado was the last of that

grand army, and like the French commander, also, he might properly be

called the bravest of the brave.

Darkness was not the usual period for Aztec fighting. It was this

alone that saved the lives of the remaining few for, having seen

Alvarado stagger to freedom along the causeway, the Aztecs concluded

that they had done enough and returned to the city rejoicing. They

took back with them many Spaniards and Tlascalans as captives for

sacrifice and the cannibalistic feast which followed.

When day broke, Cortes sitting under a tree, which is still to be seen

in Mexico,[8] ordered the survivors to pass in review before him. They

numbered five hundred Spaniards and two thousand Tlascalans and a score

of horses. Seven hundred and fifty Spaniards had been killed or taken

captive and four thousand Tlascalans. All the artillery had been lost,

seven arquebuses had been saved, but there was no powder. Half the

Spaniards were destitute of any weapons and the battle-axes and spears

which had been saved {188} were jagged and broken. Their armor was

battered and the most important parts, as helmets, shields,

breastplates, had been lost. Some of the Tlascalans still preserved

their savage weapons. There was scarcely a man, Spanish or Tlascalan

who was not suffering from some wound.

It is no wonder that when Cortes saw the melancholy and dejected array,

even his heart of steel gave way and he buried his face in his hands

and burst into tears. This terrible night has always been known in

history as _la noche triste_--the melancholy night. Melancholy indeed

it was. Surely the situation of a man was never more desperate. If

the Mexicans had rejoiced in the leadership of a Cortes, they would

have mustered their forces and fallen upon the Spaniards without the

delay of a moment, and the result could only have been annihilation.

But the Mexicans themselves had suffered terrifically. They had won a

great victory, but they had paid a fearful price for it. Now they

wanted to enjoy it. They wished to sacrifice their captives to their

gods, and they thought that there was no hope for the Spaniards, and

that they might overwhelm them at their leisure.

This is Sir Arthur Helps' vivid description of the awful retreat:

"A little before midnight the stealthy march began. The Spaniards

succeeded in laying down the pontoon over the first bridge-way, and the

vanguard with Sandoval passed over; Cortes and his men also passed

over; but while the rest were passing, the Mexicans gave the alarm with

loud shouts and blowing of horns. 'Tlaltelulco![9] Tlaltelulco!' they

exclaimed, 'come out quickly with your canoes; the _teules_ are going;

cut {189} them off at the bridges.' Almost immediately after this

alarm, the lake was covered with canoes. It rained, and the

misfortunes of the night commenced by two horses slipping from the

pontoon into the water. Then, the Mexicans attacked the

pontoon-bearers so furiously that it was impossible for them to raise

it up again. In a very short time the water at that part was full of

dead horses, Tlascalan men, Indian women, baggage, artillery,

prisoners, and boxes (_petacas_) which, I suppose, supported the

pontoon. On every side the most piteous cries were heard: 'Help me! I

drown!' 'Rescue me! They are killing me!' Such vain demands were

mingled with prayers to the Virgin Mary and to Saint James. Those that

did get upon the bridge and on the causeway found hands of Mexicans

ready to push them down again into the water.

"At the second bridge-way a single beam was found, which doubtless had

been left for the convenience of the Mexicans themselves. This was

useless for the horses, but Cortes diverging, found a shallow place

where the water did not reach further than up to the saddle, and by

that he and his horsemen passed (as Sandoval must have done before).

He contrived, also to get his foot-soldiers safely to the mainland,

though whether they swam or waded, whether they kept the line of the

causeway, or diverged into the shallows, it is difficult to determine.

Leaving the vanguard and his own division safe on shore, Cortes with a

small body of horse and foot, returned to give what assistance he could

to those who were left behind. All order was now lost, and the retreat

was little else than a confused slaughter, although small bodies of the

Spaniards still retained sufficient presence of mind {190} to act

together, rushing forward, clearing the space about them, making their

way at each moment with loss of life, but still some few survivors

getting onward. Few, indeed, of the rear-guard could have escaped. It

is told as a wonder of Alvarado, that, coming to the last bridge, he

made a leap, which has by many been deemed impossible, and cleared the

vast aperture. When Cortes came up to him, he was found accompanied by

only seven soldiers and eight Tlascalans, all covered with blood from

their many wounds. They told Cortes that there was no use in going

further back, that all who remained alive were there with him. Upon

this the General turned; and the small and melancholy band of Spaniards

pushed on to Tlacuba, Cortes protecting the rear. It is said that he

sat down on a stone in the village called Popotla near Tlacuba, and

wept; a rare occurrence, for he was not a man to waste any energy in

weeping while aught remained to be done. The country was aroused

against them, and they did not rest for the night till they had

fortified themselves in a temple on a hill near Tlacuba, where

afterward was built a church dedicated, very appropriately, to Our Lady

of Refuge (_à Nuestra Señora de los Remedios_)."

There is an old story of a Roman general, who after a most terrific

defeat, a defeat due largely to his own incompetency, not only escaped

censure but was officially thanked by the senate, because he declared

publicly that he did not despair of the republic. Of that same temper

was Cortes.

Exhorting his men in the face of this awful peril which menaced them to

conduct themselves as white men, as Spaniards, and as soldiers of the

Cross, Cortes led his army toward Tlascala. Upon the position of {191}

that republic absolutely depended the future. It depends upon the way

you look at the situation as to how you estimate the conduct of these

dusky allies of the unfortunate conqueror. Had there been any national

feeling among them, had their hatred of the Aztecs been less, they

might have broken their agreements with the Spaniards and overwhelmed

them, but the hatred of the Tlascalans did not permit them to look

beyond the present day. They decided to maintain the alliance they had

entered into with Cortes and welcomed him with open arms. They gave

him a chance to recuperate, to get something to eat, and to dress the

wounds of his men. All the Spaniards wanted was time to bring about

the inevitable downfall of Mexico and the Mexicans.

Among the men who had followed Narvaez was a Negro who had brought with

him the germs of small-pox, which were communicated to the Aztecs in

the city. It spared neither rich nor poor, as one of the first victims

was their leader, Cuitlahua. The electors chose his nephew to succeed

him, the youthful Guatemoc, or, as he was commonly called, Guatemotzin.

In some respects in spite of the lack of the sagacity and

farsightedness of Cuitlahua, he was a better man for the problem, for

he at once mustered his forces and launched them upon Cortes and the

Tlascalans in the valley of Otumba. The Tlascalans had furnished

shelter and provisions to Cortes, and had resolved to stand by their

treaty with him, but they had not yet furnished him with any great

assistance. A strong party in the council had been entirely opposed to

doing anything whatever for him. Cortes practically had to fight the

battle alone and the battle had {192} to be won. He and his fought, as

the saying is, with halters around their necks.

All day long the Spaniards and their few allies fought up and down the

narrow valley. Defeat meant certain death. They must conquer or be

tortured, sacrificed and eaten. It was Cortes himself who decided the

issue. With Alvarado and a few of the other captains, he finally broke

through the Aztec centre, with his own hand killed the Aztec general,

to whom Guatemoc had committed the battle, and seized the Aztec

standard. At the close of the long hours of fighting the natives broke

and fled, and the supremacy of Cortes and the Spaniards was once more

established.

Wavering Tlascala decided for Cortes and he was received with generous,

royal and munificent hospitality, which accorded him everything he

asked. Messengers were despatched to Hispaniola for reinforcements and

every preparation made for the renewal of the campaign. During the

fall, troops, horses, men, guns and thousands of the flower of the

Tlascalan army were placed at Cortes's disposal. He occupied them by

sending expeditions in every direction, thus restoring their morale and

punishing the savage tribes who had revolted against the Spanish rule

and had returned to their old allegiance to the Aztec emperor. The

punishments were fearful. The resources of the Mexicans were gradually

cut off and by the end of the year the Aztecs realized that they would

have to fight their last battle alone. These successful campaigns

reëstablished the prestige which the Spaniards had lost. The people

everywhere knew that they were no longer gods, but they now enjoyed a

higher reputation, that of being invincible.

Cortes was resolved to attack Mexico. With a {193} prudence as great

as his determination he decided to neglect no precaution which would

insure his success. He caused to be built a number of brigantines by

which he could secure the command of the lake, and thereby give access

to the city for his troops and allies. These brigantines were built at

Tlascala under the supervision of the sailors of the expedition. The

rigging of the ships, which had been destroyed, was useful in fitting

them out. They were built in pieces and arrangements were made to

carry them over the mountains and put them together at the lake when

the campaign began. Guns and provisions were also amassed. Powder was

brought from Cuba and it was also made by means of the sulphur deposits

of the volcanoes round about. The troops were daily drilled and

trained. Daily prayers were held, and every effort was made to give

the forthcoming campaign the spirit of a crusade. The strictest moral

regulations were promulgated. In short, nothing was left undone to

bring about the downfall of Mexico.

On his part, Guatemoc was not idle. He summoned to his assistance all

the tribes that remained loyal to him, especially those to the west,

not subjected to the Spanish attack. He strove by bribery to detach

those who had given their adherence to Cortes. Vast numbers of allies

assembled in Mexico, which was provisioned for a siege. Everything

that occurred to the minds of these splendid barbarians was done.

After having done all that was possible, with resolution which cannot

be commended too highly, they calmly awaited the onset of the Spaniards.

On Christmas day, 1520, Cortes took up the march over the mountains

again for the great city of the cactus rock.

{194}

XII. The Siege and Destruction of Mexico

It was April of the next year when Cortes at last arrived before the

city and began the siege. The force which he had mustered for this

tremendous undertaking consisted of seven hundred Spanish infantry, one

hundred and twenty arquebuses, eighty-six horsemen, twelve cannon, and

a countless multitude of Tlascalan fighters together with numbers of

slaves and servants.

As the city was connected with the mainland by three causeways, it was

necessary to invest it on three sides. The army was divided into three

equal divisions. He himself commanded the force that was to attack

along the south causeway; with him was Sandoval, his most trusted and

efficient lieutenant; Alvarado led that which was to advance over the

west causeway and Olid was to close the north causeway. The

brigantines were brought over the mountains by hand by thousands of

Tlascalans. There were no vehicles or highways of any sort in Mexico;

the Mexicans not having domesticated any animals there was no use for

anything broader than a foot-path, a fact which throws an interesting

side-light on their civilization, by the way. These Spanish boats were

put together on the shores of the lake and when they were launched they

served to close the ring of steel which surrounded the doomed city.

The three great tribal divisions of the Aztec empire were the Aztecs

themselves, the Cholulans and the Tezcocans. Cholula had been

conquered and with Tezcoco at this critical juncture went over to the

Spaniards, leaving Guatemoc and his Aztecs to fight the last fight

{195} alone. Besides the forces enumerated, each Spanish division was

accompanied by formidable bodies of Tlascalans. The Tlascalans were

nearly, if not quite, as good fighters as the Aztecs; perhaps they were

better fighters, so far as their numbers went, when led and supported

by the white people.

The first thing that Cortes did was to cut the aqueduct which carried

fresh water into the city. The lake of Tezcoco in which Mexico stood

was salt. By this one stroke, Cortes forced the inhabitants to depend

upon a very meagre, scanty supply of water from wells in the city, many

of which were brackish and unpalatable. The shores of the lake were

swept bare by the beleaguerers. Iztatapalan, a rocky fortress was

taken by storm and on April 21, 1521, the first attack was delivered

along the causeways. The Mexicans met the advance with their customary

intrepidity. The water on either side of the causeway swarmed with

canoes. Thousands of warriors poured out of the city. The canoes

swept down the lake intending to take the Spaniards in reverse and then

pour in a terrible flank fire of missiles as they had done on the

Melancholy Night. Cortes sustained this fire for a short time in order

to draw the canoes as far toward him as possible, then he let loose the

brigantines.

These brigantines were boats propelled by oars and sails on a single

mast. They carried about a score of armed men and were very well and

stoutly built. I suppose them to have been something like a modern

man-o'-war cutter. They played havoc with the frail canoes. Their

solid construction, their higher free-board, that is, the height they

were above the water-line, the armor of their crews and the fact that

the wind happened to be favorable and they {196} could sail instead of

row that morning, all contributed to the utter and complete destruction

of the Indian flotilla. Canoes were splintered and sunk. Men were

killed by the hundreds. They strove to climb up the slippery sides of

the causeways and dykes. The Spaniards thrust them off into the deep

water with their spears or cut them to pieces with their swords. The

battle along the causeways, which were narrow, although quite wide

enough for a dozen horsemen abreast, was terrible. The Aztecs

literally died in their tracks, disdaining to fly. The Spaniards made

their way over a floor of dead and writhing bodies.

Bare breasts, however resolute the hearts that beat beneath them, were

no match for the steel cuirasses. The wooden shields did not even

blunt the edge of the Toledo blade; the obsidian battle-axes could not

contest with the iron maces. The jewelled feather work of the proudest

noble was not equal even to the steel-trimmed leather jerkin of the

poorest white soldier. The Spaniards literally cut their way, hewed,

hacked, thrust their way into the city.

Here the fighting was slightly more equalized. The low roofs of the

houses and pueblos swarmed with warriors. They rained missiles down

upon the Spaniards' heads, while a never diminishing mob hurled itself

into the faces of the white men. The Aztecs could have done more

damage if they had not sacrificed everything in order to capture the

Spaniards alive. In some instances they succeeded in their purpose.

The fighting which was the same in all three of the causeways lasted

all day and then the Spaniards retired to their several camps.

Save for the fact that they afterward cleared the lake of the canoes by

the aid of the brigantines, one {197} day's fighting was like another.

The Spaniards would march into the city, slaughter until their arms

were weary. They would lose a few here and there every day. The

Tlascalans who took their part in all the fighting lost many. The end

of the day would see things _in statu quo_. There were enough of the

Indians even to sacrifice one hundred of them to one Spaniard and still

maintain the balance of power. Cortes observed that he might fight

this way until all of his army had melted away by piecemeal and have

taken nothing.

He determined upon the dreadful expedient of destroying the city as he

captured it. After coming to this decision, he summoned to his aid

large bodies of the subject tribes. Thereafter, while the Spaniards

and the Tlascalans fought, the others tore down that portion of the

city which had been taken. The buildings were absolutely razed to the

ground and nothing whatever was left of them. Canals were filled,

gardens were ruined, trees cut down and even the walls of the city torn

apart. In short, what once had been a teeming populous quarter of the

city, abounding in parks, gardens and palaces, was left a desert.

There was not enough power left in the Aztec Confederacy to rebuild the

devastated portions over night and the Spaniards daily pressed their

attack on every side with relentless rigor.

The Mexicans were slowly constricted to an ever narrowing circle. The

Spaniards seized and choked up the wells. The Mexicans were dying of

thirst. The brigantines swept the lake and prevented any

reënforcements reaching them, which cut off their supply of provisions.

They were dying of hunger. After every day's fighting Cortes offered

amnesty. To do {198} him justice, he begged that peace might be made

and the fighting stopped before the city was ruined and all its

inhabitants were killed. He was no mere murderer, and such scenes of

slaughter horrified him. He had a genuine admiration for the enemy

too. He tried his best to secure peace. His offers were repudiated

with contempt. In spite of the fact that they were starving, the

Aztecs in bravado actually threw provisions in the faces of the

advancing Spaniards. They declared to the Tlascalans that when there

was nothing left to eat they would eat them, and if there was nothing

else, they would live on one another until they were all dead. They

mocked and jeered at the tribes tearing down the houses, and with grim

humor pointed out to them that they would have to rebuild the city

whoever was successful in the strife, for either the Aztecs or the

Spaniards would compel them to do so. So the fighting went on through

the long days.

XIII. A Day of Desperate Fighting

On one occasion the soldiers, tiring of this, demanded, and Cortes in

compliance with their wishes projected, an attack which was hoped would

capture the narrow circle of defense by storm. In his own words the

story of this day's fighting is now related. It will be seen how he

narrowly escaped with his life:

"The day after mass,[10] in pursuance of the arrangements already

mentioned, the seven brigantines with more than three thousand canoes

of our allies left the encampment; and I, with twenty-five horses and

{199} all the other force I had, including the seventy-five men from

the division at Tacuba, took up the line of march and entered the city,

where I distributed the troops in the following manner: There were

three streets leading from where we entered to the market-place, called

by the Indians Tianguizco, and the whole square in which it is situated

is called Tlaltelulco; one of these streets was the principal avenue to

the marketplace, which I ordered your Majesty's treasurer and auditor

to take, with seventy men and more than fifteen or twenty thousand of

our allies, and rear-guard consisting of seven or eight horses. I also

directed that, whenever a bridge or entrenchment was taken, it should

be immediately filled up; and for this purpose they had twelve men with

pick-axes, together with many more of our allies who were very useful

in this kind of work. The two other streets also lead from that of

Tacuba to the market-place, and are narrower and full of causeways,

bridges, and water-streets (or canals). I ordered two captains,[11] to

take the wildest of these with eighty men and more than ten thousand of

our Indian allies; and at the head of the street of Tacuba I placed two

heavy cannon with eight horse to guard them. With eight other horse

and about one hundred foot, including twenty-five or more bowmen and

musketeers, and an innumerable host of our allies, I took up the line

of march along the other narrow street, intending to penetrate as far

as possible. At its entrance I caused the cavalry to halt, and ordered

them by no means to pass from there, nor to come in my rear, unless I

first sent them orders to that effect; and then I alighted from my

{200} horse, and we came to an entrenchment that had been raised in

front of a bridge, which we carried by means of a small field-piece,

and the archers and musketeers, and then proceeded along the causeway,

which was broken in two or three places, where we encountered the

enemy. So great was the number of our allies, who ascended the

terraces and other places, that it did not appear possible anything

could stop us. When we had gained the two bridges, the entrenchments

and the causeways, our allies followed along the street without taking

any spoils; and I remained behind with about twenty Spanish soldiers on

a little island, for I saw that some of our Indians were getting into

trouble with the enemy; and in some instances they retreated until they

cast themselves into the water, and with our aid were enabled to return

to the attack. Besides this, we were on the watch to prevent the enemy

from sallying forth out of the cross-streets in the rear of the

Spaniards, who had advanced on the main street and at this time sent us

word that they had made much progress, and were not far from the great

square of the market-place; adding, that they wished to push forward,

for they already heard the noise of the combat in which the Alguazil

mayor and Pedro de Alvarado were engaged on their side of the city. I

answered them that they must by no means go forward without leaving the

bridges well filled up, so that, if it became necessary to beat a

retreat, the water might present no obstacle or impediment, for in this

consisted all the danger. They sent to me a message in reply, the

amount of which was that the whole they had gained was in good

condition, and that I might go and see if it was not so. But

suspecting that they had disregarded the orders and left the {201}

bridges imperfectly filled up, I went to the place and found they had

passed a breach in the road ten or twelve paces wide, and the water

that flowed through it was ten or twelve feet deep. At the time the

troops had passed this ditch, thus formed, they had thrown in it wood

and reed-canes, and as they had crossed a few at a time and with great

circumspection, the wood and canes had not sunk beneath their weight;

and they were so intoxicated with the pleasure of victory that they

imagined it to be sufficiently firm. At the moment I reached this

bridge of troubles, I discovered some Spaniards and many of our allies

flying back in great haste, and the enemy like dogs in pursuit of them;

and when I saw such a rout, I began to cry out, 'Hold, hold!' and on

approaching the water, I beheld it full of Spaniards and Indians in so

dense a mass that it seemed as if there was not room for a straw to

float. The enemy charged on the fugitives so hotly, that in the

_mêlée_ they threw themselves into the water after them; and soon the

enemy's canoes came up by means of the canal and took the Spaniards

alive.

As this affair was so sudden, and I saw them killing our men, I

resolved to remain there and perish in the fight. The way in which I

and those that were with me could do the most good was to give our

hands to some unfortunate Spaniards who were drowning, and draw them

out of the water; some came out wounded, others half-drowned, and

others without arms, whom I sent forward. Already such multitudes of

the enemy pressed upon us, that they had completely surrounded me and

the twelve or fifteen men who were with me; and being deeply interested

in endeavoring to save those that were sinking, I did not observe nor

regard the danger to which I was exposed. Several Indians {202} of the

enemy had already advanced to seize me and would have borne me off, had

it not been for a captain of fifty men whom I always had with me, and

also a youth of his company, to whom next to God, I owed my life; and

in saving mine, like a valiant man, he lost his own.[12] In the

meantime the Spaniards who had fled before the enemy, pursued their

course along the causeway, and as it was small and narrow, and on the

same level as the water, which had been effected by those dogs on

purpose to annoy us; and as the road was crowded also with our allies

who had been routed, much delay was thereby occasioned, enabling the

enemy to come up on both sides of the water, and to take and destroy as

many as they pleased. The captain who was with me, Antonio de

Quinones, said to me: 'Let us leave this place and save your life,

since you know that without you none of us can escape'; but he could

not induce me to go. When he saw this, he seized me in his arms, that

he might force me away; and although I would have been better satisfied

to die than to live, yet by the importunity of this captain and of my

other companions, we began to retreat, making our way with our swords

and bucklers against the enemy, who pressed hard upon us. At this

moment there came up a servant of mine and made a little room; but

presently he received a blow in his throat from a lance thrown from a

low terrace, that brought him to the ground. While I was in the midst

of this conflict, sustaining the attacks of the enemy, and waiting for

the crowd on the narrow causeway, to reach a place of safety, one of my

servants brought {203} me a horse to ride on. But the mud on the

causeway, occasioned by the coming and going of persons by water, was

so deep that no one could stand, especially with the jostling of the

people against one another in their effort to escape.

"I mounted the horse, but not to fight, as this was impossible on

horseback; but if it had been practicable I should have found on the

little island opposite the narrow causeway, the eight horsemen I had

left there, who were unable to do more than effect their return; which

indeed, was so dangerous that two mares, on which two of my servants

rode fell from the causeway into the water; one of them was killed by

the Indians, but the other was saved by some of the infantry. Another

servant of mine Cristobal de Guzman, rode a horse that they gave him at

the little island to bring to me, on which I might make my escape; but

the enemy killed both him and the horse before they reached me; his

death spread sorrow through the whole camp, and even to this day his

loss is still mourned by those who knew him. But after all our

troubles, by the blessing of God, those of us who survived, reached the

street of Tlacuba, which was very wide; and collecting the people, I

took my post with nine horsemen in the rear-guard. The enemy pressed

forward with all the pride of victory, as if resolved that none should

escape with life; but falling back in the best manner I could, I sent

word to the treasurer and auditor to retreat to the public square in

good order. I also sent similar orders to the two captains who had

entered the city by the street that led to the market-place, both of

whom had fought gallantly, and carried many entrenchments and bridges,

which they had caused to be well filled up, on account of {204} which

they were able to retire without loss. Before the retreat of the

treasurer and auditor some of the enemy threw in their way two or three

heads of Christian men from the upper part of the entrenchment where

they were fighting, but it was not known whether they were persons

belonging to the camp of Pedro de Alvarado, or our own. All being

assembled in the square, so large a multitude of the enemy charged upon

us from all directions that we had as much as we could do to keep them

back; and that, too, in places where, before this defeat, the enemy

would have fled before three horse and ten foot. Immediately after, in

a lofty tower filled with their idols that stood near the square, they

burned perfumes and fumigated the air with certain gums peculiar to

this country, that greatly resembled _anime_, which they offer to their

idols in token of victory. Although we endeavored to throw obstacles

in the way of the enemy, it was out of our power, as our people were

hurrying back to the camp.

"In this defeat thirty-five or forty Spaniards, and more than a

thousand of our allies, were slain by the enemy, besides more than

twenty Christians wounded, among whom was myself in the leg. We lost

the small field-piece that we had taken with us, and many crossbows,

muskets and other arms. Immediately after their victory in order to

strike terror into the Alguazil mayor and Pedro de Alvarado, the enemy

carried all the Spaniards, both living and dead, whom they had taken,

to the Tlaltelulco which is the market-place, and in some of the lofty

towers that are situated there they sacrificed them naked, opening

their breasts and taking out their hearts to offer them to the idols.

This was seen by the Spaniards of Alvarado's division from {205} where

they were fighting, and from the whiteness of the naked bodies which

they saw sacrificed they knew them to be Christians; but although they

suffered great sorrow and dismay at the sight, they effected a retreat

to their camp after having fought gallantly that day, and carried their

conquests almost to the market-place, which would have been taken if

God, on account of our sins, had not permitted so great a disaster. We

returned to our camp, such was the grief we felt, somewhat earlier than

had been usual on other days; and in addition to our other losses, we

had been told that the brigantines had fallen into the hands of the

enemies, who attacked them in their canoes from the rear; but it

pleased God this was not true, although the brigantines and the canoes

of our allies had been seen in danger enough, and even a brigantine

came near being lost, the captain and the master of it being wounded,

the former of whom died eight days afterward."

This modest account of the brave soldier scarcely does justice to the

situation, his peril and his courage. Therefore, I supplement it by

Helps' description of the same day of desperate fighting:

"The impatience of the soldiers grew to a great height, and was

supported in an official quarter--by no less a person than Alderete,

the King's Treasurer. Cortes gave way against his own judgment to

their importunities. There had all along been a reason for his

reluctance, which, probably, he did not communicate to his men; namely,

that he had not abandoned the hope that the enemy would still come to

terms. 'Finally,' he says, 'they pressed me so much that I gave way.'

"The attack was to be a general one, in which the {206} divisions of

Sandoval and Alvarado were to cooperate; but Cortes, with that

knowledge of character which belonged to him, particularly explained

that, though his general orders were for them to press into the

market-place, they were not obliged to gain a single difficult pass

which laid them open to defeat; 'for,' he says, 'I knew, from the men

they were, that they would advance to whatever spot I told them to

gain, even if they knew that it would cost them their lives.'

"On the appointed day, Cortes moved from his camp, supported by seven

brigantines, and by more than three thousand canoes filled with his

Indian allies. When his soldiers reached the entrance of the city, he

divided them in the following manner. There were three streets which

led to the market-place from the position which the Spaniards had

already gained. Along the principal street, the King's Treasurer, with

seventy Spaniards, and fifteen or twenty thousand allies was to make

his way. His rear was to be protected by a small guard of horsemen.

"The other streets were smaller, and led from the street of Tlacuba to

the market-place. Along the broader of these two streets, Cortes sent

two of his principal captains, with eighty Spaniards and the thousand

Indians; he himself with eight horsemen, seventy-five foot-soldiers,

twenty-five musketeers, and an 'infinite number' of allies, was to

enter the narrower street. At the entrance to the street of Tlacuba,

he left two large cannon with eight horsemen to guard them, and at the

entrance of his own street, he also left eight horsemen to protect the

rear.

"The Spaniards and their allies made their entrance into the city with

even more success and less embarrassment than on previous occasions.

Bridges and {207} barricades were gained, and the three main bodies of

the army moved forward into the heart of the city. The ever-prudent

Cortes did not follow his division, but remained with a small

body-guard of twenty Spaniards in a little island formed by the

intersection of certain water streets, whence he encouraged the allies,

who were occasionally beaten back by the Mexicans, and where he could

protect his own troops against any sudden descent of the enemy from

certain side streets.

"He now received a message from these Spanish troops who had made a

rapid and successful advance into the heart of the town, informing him

that they were not far from the market-place, and that they wished to

have his permission to push forward, as they already heard the noise of

the combats which the Alguazil mayor and Pedro de Alvarado were waging

from their respective stations. To this message Cortes returned for

answer that on no account should they move forward without first

filling up the apertures thoroughly. They sent an answer back, stating

that they had made completely passable all the ground they had gained;

and that he might come and see whether it were not so.

"Cortes, like a wise commander, not inclined to admit anything as a

fact upon the statement of others which could be verified by personal

inspection, took them at their word, and did move on to see what sort

of a pathway they had made; when, to his dismay, he came in sight of a

breach in the causeway, of considerable magnitude, being ten or twelve

paces in width, and which, far from being filled up with solid

material, had been passed upon wood and reeds, which was entirely

insecure in case of retreat. The Spaniards, 'intoxicated with

victory,' as their Commander {208} describes them, had rushed on,

imagining that they left behind them a sufficient pathway.

"There was now no time to remedy this lamentable error, for when Cortes

arrived near this 'bridge of affliction,' as he calls it, he saw many

of the Spaniards and the allies retreating toward it, and when he came

up close to it, he found the bridge-way broken down, and the whole

aperture so full of Spaniards and Indians, that there was not room for

a straw to float upon the surface of the water. The peril was so

imminent that Cortes not only thought that the conquest of Mexico was

gone, but that the term of his life as well as that of his victories

had come; and he resolved to die there fighting. All that he could do

at first was to help his men out of the water; and meanwhile, the

Mexicans charged upon them in such numbers, that he and his little

party were entirely surrounded. The enemy seized upon his person, and

would have carried him off, but for the resolute bravery of some of his

guard, one of whom lost his life there in succoring his master. The

greatest aid, however, that Cortes had at this moment of urgent peril,

was the cruel superstition of the Mexicans, which made them wish to

take the Malinche alive, and grudged the death of an enemy in any other

way than that of sacrifice to their detestable gods. The captain of

the body-guard seized hold of Cortes, and insisted upon his retreating,

declaring that upon his life depended the lives of all of them.

Cortes, though at that moment he felt that he should have delighted

more in death than life, gave way to the importunity of his captain,

and of other Spaniards who were near, and commenced a retreat for his

life. His flight was along a narrow causeway at the same level as the

water, an additional circumstance of danger, {209} which to use his

expression about them, those 'dogs' had contrived against the

Spaniards. The Mexicans in their canoes approached the causeway on

both sides, and the slaughter they were thus enabled to commit, both

among the allies and the Spaniards, was very great. Meanwhile, two or

three horses were sent to aid Cortes in his retreat, and a youth upon

one of them contrived to reach him, although the others were lost. At

last he and a few of his men succeeded in fighting their way to the

broad street of Tlacuba, where, like a brave captain, instead of

continuing his flight, he and the few horsemen that were with him

turned around and formed a rear-guard to protect his retreating troops.

He also sent immediate orders to the King's Treasurer and the other

commanders to make good their escape; orders the force of which was

much heightened by the sight of two or three Spanish heads which the

Mexicans, who were fighting behind a barricade, threw amongst the

besiegers.

"We must now see how it fared with the other divisions. Alvarado's men

had prospered in their attack, and were steadily advancing toward the

marketplace, when, all of a sudden, they found themselves encountered

by an immense body of Mexican troops, splendidly accoutred, who threw

before them five heads of Spaniards and kept shouting out, 'Thus we

will slay you, as we have slain Malinche and Sandoval, whose heads

these are.' With these words they commenced an attack of such fury,

and came so close to hand with the Spaniards, that they could not use

their cross-bows, their muskets, or even their swords. One thing,

however, was in their favor. The difficulty of their retreat was

always greatly enhanced by the number of their allies; but on this

occasion, the {210} Tlascalans no sooner saw the bleeding heads and

heard the menacing words of the Mexicans, than they cleared themselves

off the causeway with all possible speed.

"The Spaniards, therefore, were able to retreat in good order; and

their dismay did not take the form of panic, even when they heard, from

the summit of the Temple, the tones of that awful drum, made from the

skin of serpents, which gave forth the most melancholy sound

imaginable, and which was audible at two or three leagues' distance.

This was the signal of sacrifice, and at that moment ten human hearts,

the hearts of their companions, were being offered up to the Mexican

deities.

"A more dangerous, though not more dreadful sound was now to be heard.

This was the blast of a horn sounded by no less a personage than the

Mexican King--which signified that his captains were to succeed or die.

The mad fury with which the Mexicans now rushed upon the Spaniards was

an 'awful thing' to see; and the historian, who was present at the

scene, writing in his old age, exclaims that, though he cannot describe

it, yet, when he comes to think of it, it is as if it were 'visibly'

before him, so deep was the impression it had made upon his mind.

"But the Spaniards were not raw troops; and terror however great, was

not able to overcome their sense of discipline and their duty to each

other as comrades. It was in vain that the Mexicans rushed upon them

'as a conquered thing'; they reached their station, served their cannon

steadily--although they had to renew their artillery-men--and

maintained their ground.

"The appalling stratagem adopted by the Mexicans--of {211} throwing

down before one division of the Spanish army some of the heads of the

prisoners they had taken from another division, and shouting that these

were the heads of the principal commanders--was pursued with great

success. They were thus enabled to discourage Sandoval, and to cause

him to retreat with loss toward his quarters. They even tried with

success the same stratagem upon Cortes, throwing before his camp, to

which he had at last retreated, certain bleeding heads, which they

said, were those of 'Tonatiuh' (Alvarado), Sandoval, and the other

_teules_. Then it was that Cortes felt more dismay than ever,

'though,' says the honest chronicler, who did not like the man, no

matter how much he admired the soldier, 'not in such a manner that

those who were with him should perceive in it much weakness.'

"After Sandoval had made good his retreat, he set off, accompanied by a

few horsemen, for the camp of Cortes, and had an interview with him, of

which the following account is given: 'O Señor Captain! what is this?'

exclaimed Sandoval; 'are these the great counsels, and artifices of war

which you have always been wont to show us? How has this disaster

happened?' Cortes replied, 'O Don Sandoval! my sins have permitted

this; but I am not so culpable in the business as they may make out,

for it is the fault of the Treasurer, Juan de Alderete, whom I charged

to fill up that difficult pass where they routed us; but he did not do

so, for he is not accustomed to wars, nor to be commanded by superior

officers.' At this point of the conference, the Treasurer himself, who

had approached the captains in order to learn Sandoval's news,

exclaimed that it was Cortes himself who was to blame; that he had

encouraged his men to go {212} forward; that he had not charged them to

fill up the bridges and bad passes--if he had done so, he (the

Treasurer) and his company would have done it; and, moreover, that

Cortes had not cleared the causeway in time of his Indian allies. Thus

they argued and disputed with one another; for hardly any one is

generous, in defeat, to those with whom he has acted. Indeed, a

generosity of this kind, which will not allow a man to comment severely

upon the errors of his comrades in misfortune, is so rare a virtue,

that it scarcely seems to belong to this planet.

"There was little time, however, for altercation, and Cortes was not

the man to indulge in more of that luxury for the unfortunate than

human nature demanded. He had received no tidings of what had befallen

the Camp of Tlacuba, and thither he despatched Sandoval, embracing him

and saying, 'Look you, since you see that I cannot go to all parts, I

commend these labors to you, for, as you perceive, I am wounded and

lame. I implore you, take charge of these three camps. I well know

that Pedro de Alvarado and his soldiers will have behaved themselves as

cavaliers, but I fear lest the great force of those dogs should have

routed them.'

"The scene now changes to the ground near Alvarado's camp. Sandoval

succeeded in making his way there, and arrived about the hour of

Vespers. He found the men of that division in the act of repelling a

most vigorous attack on the part of the Mexicans, who had hoped that

night to penetrate into the camp and carry off all the Spaniards for

sacrifice. The enemy were better armed than usual, some of them using

the weapons which they had taken from the soldiers of Cortez. At last,

after a severe conflict, {213} in which Sandoval himself was wounded,

and in which the cannon shots did not suffice to break the serried

ranks of the Mexicans, the Spaniards gained their quarters, and, being

under shelter, had some respite from the fury of the Mexican attack.

"There, Sandoval, Pedro de Alvarado, and the other principal captains,

were standing together and relating what had occurred to each of them,

when, suddenly, the sound of the sacrificial drum was heard again,

accompanied by other musical instruments of a similar dolorous

character. From the Camp of Tlacuba the great Temple was perfectly

visible, and the Spaniards looked up at it for the interpretation of

these melancholy tones; they saw their companions driven by blows and

buffetings up to the place of sacrifice. The white-skinned Christians

were easily to be distinguished amidst the dusky groups that surrounded

them. When the unhappy men about to be sacrificed had reached the

lofty level space on which these abominations were wont to be

committed, it was discerned by their friends and late companions that

plumes of feathers were put upon the heads of many of them, and that

men, whose movements in the distance appeared like those of winnowers,

made the captive dance before the image of Huitzilopochtli. When the

dance was concluded, the victims were placed upon the sacrificial

stones; their hearts were taken out and offered to the idols; and their

bodies hurled down the steps of the temple. At the bottom of the steps

stood 'other butchers' who cut off the arms and legs of the victims,

intending to eat these portions of their enemy. The skin of the face

with the beard was preserved. The rest of the body was thrown to the

lions, tigers, and serpents. 'Let the curious {214} reader consider,'

says the chronicler, 'what pity we must have had for these, our

companions, and how we said to one another, 'Oh, thanks be to God, that

they did not carry me off to-day to sacrifice me.' And certainly no

army ever looked on a more deplorable sight.

"There was no time, however, for such contemplation: for, at that

instant, numerous bands of warriors attacked the Spaniards on all

sides, and fully occupied their attention in the preservation of their

own lives.

"Modern warfare has lost one great element of the picturesque in

narrative, namely, in there being no interchange, now, of verbal

threats and menaces between the contending parties; but in those days

it was otherwise, and the Mexicans were able to indulge in the most

fierce and malignant language. 'Look,' they said, 'that is the way in

which all of you have to die, for our Gods have promised this to us

many times.' To the Tlascalans their language was more insulting and

much more minutely descriptive. Throwing to them the roasted flesh of

their companions and of the Spanish soldiers, they shouted, 'Eat of the

flesh of these _teules_, and of your brethren, for we are quite

satiated with it; and, look you, for the houses you have pulled down,

we shall have to make you build in their place much better ones with

stone and plates of metal, likewise with hewn stone and lime; and the

houses will be painted. Wherefore continue to assist these _teules_

all of whom you will see sacrificed.'

"The Mexicans, however, did not succeed in carrying off any more

Spaniards for sacrifice that night. The Spanish camp had some few

hours of repose, and some time to reckon up their losses, which were

very {215} considerable. They lost upward of sixty of their own men,

six horses, two cannon, and a great number of their Indian allies.

Moreover the brigantines had not fared much better on this disastrous

day than the land forces. But the indirect consequences of this defeat

were still more injurious than the actual losses. The allies from the

neighboring cities on the lake deserted the Spaniards, nearly to a man.

The Mexicans regained and strengthened most of their positions; and the

greatest part of the work of the besiegers seemed as if it would have

to be done over again. Even the Tlascalans, hitherto so faithful,

despaired of the fortunes of their allies, and could not but believe,

with renewed terror, in the potency of the Mexican deities, kindred to,

if not identical with, their own."

XIV. The Last Mexican

The courage of the Aztecs was beyond all question. Their heroism

awakens a thrill of admiration, although we are fully aware of their

fearful and ferocious and degrading religious rites. Again and again

the heart-sick Spaniards saw lifted up before the hideous gods on the

temple pyramids, the white, naked bodies of their unfortunate comrades

who had been captured for that awful sacrifice. Both parties were

wrought up to a pitch of furious rage.

No valor, no heroism, no courage, no devotion could prevail against

thirst, hunger, smallpox, pestilence, the fever of besieged towns, with

the streets filled with unburied dead. On August 13, 1521, the city

fell. There was no formal surrender, the last defender had been

killed. The old, weak and feeble were left. Only a small portion of

the city, the {216} cheapest and poorest part, was left standing. Into

this ghastly street rode the Spaniards.

Where was Guatemoc? A wretched, haggard, worn, starved figure, having

done all that humanity could do, and apparently more, in the defence of

his land, he had striven to escape in a canoe on the lake. One of the

brigantines overhauled him. The commander was about to make way with

the little party when some one informed him that the principal captive

was no less than Guatemotzin. The unfortunate young emperor, after

vainly trying to persuade Garcia Holguin to kill him then and there,

demanded to be led to Cortes. He found that great captain on one of

the house-tops, watching the slaughter of the men and women and

children by the furious Tlascalans who were at last feeding fat their

revenge by indiscriminate massacre.

"Deal with me as you please," said the broken-hearted Mexican, as he

touched the dagger which hung by Cortes's side. "Kill me at once," he

implored.

He had no wish to survive the downfall of his empire, the devastation

of his city, and the annihilation of his people. Cortes spared his

life and at first treated him generously. He afterward marred his

reputation by yielding him and the Cacique of Tlacuba to torture at the

urgent and insistent demand of the soldiery. There was no treasure

found in the city. It had been spirited away or else buried forever

beneath the ruins of the town.[13] The soldiers, their greed for

treasure excited, insisted upon the torture of the noble Guatemoc and

his comrade. The Cacique of Tlacuba, unable through weakness to

sustain the torture, which consisted of burning the soles of their feet

with boiling {217} oil, broke into lamenting reproaches, some of them

addressed to the emperor.

"And am I taking pleasure in my bath, do you think?" proudly replied

the young chief, while the soles of his feet were being immersed in the

same dreadful cauldron.

He was lame and more or less helpless for the rest of his life. I have

no doubt that he often wished that he had been cut down in the final

moment of his defeat. He dragged on a miserable existence until Cortes

put him to death by hanging several years after the conquest while in

Honduras on an expedition. The charge against him, so Cortes writes to

Charles V., was conspiracy. The evidence was flimsy enough, yet it is

probable that Cortes believed it. The expedition was far from Mexico,

surrounded by hostile nations, and Cortes, as usual, was in great

danger. Helps thus describes the bitter end of the noble young emperor:

"When led to execution, the King of Mexico exclaimed, 'O Malinche, I

have long known the falseness of your words, and have foreseen that you

would give me that death which, alas! I did not give myself, when I

surrendered to you in my city of Mexico. Wherefore do you slay me

without justice? May God demand it of you!'

"The King of the Tlacuba said that he looked upon his death as welcome,

since he was able to die with his Lord, the King of Mexico. After

confession and absolution, the two kings were hanged upon a ceyba tree

in Izzancanac, in the province of Acalan, on one of the carnival days

before Shrovetide, in the year 1525. Thus ended the great Mexican

dynasty--itself a thing compacted by so much blood and toil and {218}

suffering of countless human beings. The days of deposed

monarchs--victims alike to the zeal of their friends and the suspicions

of their captors--are mostly very brief; and perhaps it is surprising

that the King of Mexico should have survived as long as four years the

conquest of his capital, and have been treated during the greater part

of that time with favor and honor.

"Some writers have supposed that Cortes was weary of his captives, and

wished to destroy them, and that the charge of conspiracy was

fictitious. Such assertions betray a total ignorance of the character

of this great Spaniard. Astute men seldom condescend to lying. Now,

Cortes was not only very astute, but, according to his notions, highly

honorable. A genuine hidalgo, and a thoroughly loyal man, he would as

soon have thought of committing a small theft as of uttering a

falsehood in a despatch addressed to his sovereign."

XV. The End of Cortes

Cortes received a full reward for his conquest, at least for a time.

He was received in high favor by Charles V., whom he visited in Spain,

and who made him Marques of the Valley of Mexico.

"There is on record a single sentence of the Emperor's that must have

been addressed to Cortes in some private interview, which shows the

gracious esteem in which he was held by his sovereign. Borrowing a

metaphor from the archery-ground, and gracefully, as it seems, alluding

to a former misappreciation of the services of Cortes, the Emperor said

that he wished to deal with him as those who contend with the crossbow,

whose first shots go wide of the mark, and then {219} they improve and

improve, until they hit the centre of the white. So, continued His

Majesty, he wished to go on until he had shot into the white of what

should be done to reward the Marquis' deserts; and meanwhile nothing

was to be taken from him which he then held.

"It was very pleasing to find that Cortes did not forget his old

friends the Tlascalans, but dwelt on their services, and procured from

the Emperor an order that they should not be given _encomienda_ to His

Majesty, or to any other person."

The only reward the Tlascalans got from the Emperor was that, when the

other Mexicans were made slaves, they were left at least nominally

free, but their republic soon fell into decay and the city in which

they had so proudly maintained themselves in their independence, became

a desolate ruin. A dirty and squalid village to-day marks the place.

Marina, who had served the Spaniards for the love of the great captain

with such fidelity and such success, was cast off by Cortes and

compelled to marry one of his officers, whom she scarcely knew. This

crushed her spirit. She abandoned her husband and sank into wretched

and miserable obscurity, and died at an early age of a broken heart.

Cortes conducted other expeditions, most of them without any great

success, as that to Honduras, where he hanged the last of the Aztec

Kings. Jealousy arose in the great state which he had founded, and he

fell out of favor with the Emperor, who refused to see him, and he was

received with cold and bitter reproaches by his wife, whom he married

after the death of his former wife, and who had never proved a comfort

to him. An admirable marriage which {220} he had arranged for his

daughter with one of the highest nobility of Spain failed, his last

days were sad and miserable, and he died old, lonely and

broken-hearted. I again quote Helps concerning these closing scenes:

"The poets say, 'Care sits behind a man and follows him wherever he

goes.' So does ill-success; and henceforward the life of Cortes was

almost invariably unsuccessful. There is an anecdote told of him

(resting upon no higher authority than that of Voltaire) which,

although evidently untrue, tells in a mythical way the reception which

Cortes met at the Spanish Court; and his feelings as regards that

reception.

"One day he broke through the crowd which surrounded the carriage of

the Emperor and jumped on the step.

"'Who are you?' asked the Emperor in astonishment.

"'I am the man,' replied Cortes fiercely, 'who has given you more

provinces than your ancestors have left you cities.'

"Quitting fiction, however, and returning to fact, there is a letter

extant addressed by Cortes to the Emperor, Charles V., which conveys

more forcibly than even a large extent of narrative could do, the

troubles, vexations, and disappointments which Cortes had to endure at

this latter period of his life, and his feelings with regard to them.

It is one of the most touching letters ever written by a subject to a

sovereign. I will here translate some of it, greatly condensing those

parts of the letter which relate to the business in hand, and which

would be as wearisome to the reader to read, as they were to the writer

to write; for doubtless, it was not the first time, by many times,

{221} that Cortes had set down the same grievance in writing. The

letter bears date, Valladolid, the 3rd. of February, 1544. It begins

thus:--

"'Sacred Cesarian Catholic Majesty:--I thought that having labored in

my youth, it would so profit me that in my old age I might have ease

and rest; and now it is forty years that I have been occupied in not

sleeping, in eating ill, and sometimes eating neither well nor ill, in

bearing armor, in placing my person in danger, in spending my estates

and my life, all in the service of God, bringing sheep into his

sheep-fold--which were very remote from our hemisphere, unknown, and

whose names are not written in our writings--also increasing and making

broad the name and patrimony of my King--gaining for him, and bringing

under his yoke and Royal sceptre, many and very great kingdoms and many

barbarous nations, all won by my own person, and at my own expense;

without being assisted in anything, on the contrary, being much

hindered by many jealous and evil and envious persons who, like

leeches, have been filled to bursting with my blood.'

"He then proceeds to say that for the part which God has had in his

labors and watchings he is sufficiently paid, because it was His work;

and it was not without a reason that Providence was pleased that so

great a work should be accomplished by so weak a medium, in order that

it might be seen that to God alone the good work must be attributed.

"Cortes then says that for what he has done for the King, he has always

been satisfied with the remuneration he has received. The King has

been grateful to him, has honored him, and has rewarded him, and he

adds that His Majesty knows that the rewards {222} and honors which the

Emperor offered were, in the opinion of Cortes, so far greater than his

merits, that he refused to receive them.

"What, however, His Majesty did mean him to receive, he has not

received. That which His Majesty has given has been so completely

without fruit, that it would have been better for Cortes not to have

had it, but that he should have taken care of his own estate, and not

spent the fruit of that in defending himself against 'the Fiscal of

Your Majesty, which defence has been, and is, a more difficult

undertaking than to win the land of the enemy.'

"He then implores His Majesty that he will be pleased to render clear

the good will which he had shown to reward him. 'I see myself,' he

exclaims, 'old, poor and indebted. Not only have I no repose in my old

age, but I can foresee labor and trouble until my death.' And he adds,

'Please God that the mischief may not go beyond death; but may finish

with the body, and not exist forever, since whosoever has such toil in

defending his bodily estate, cannot avoid injuring his soul.'

"All that he asks is that his appeal may be heard; that members of the

King's Council be added to the Council of the Indies; and that the

cause may be determined, and judgment given, without further delay.

'For, otherwise, I must leave it and loose it, and must return to my

home, as I am no longer of the age to go about to hostelries; and

should withdraw myself to make my account clear with God, since it is a

large one that I have, and little life is left to me to discharge my

conscience; and it will be better for me to lose my estate than my

soul.' He concludes by saying that 'he is of Your Catholic Majesty the

{223} very humble servant and vassal, who kisses your very royal feet

and hands--the Marquis del Valle.'

"In addition to these vexations he had a domestic trouble which

doubtless caused him much mortification. His daughter, Donna Maria,

was engaged to one of the greatest nobles in Spain; but ultimately the

young man refused to fulfil the engagement. Some say that this caused

the death of Cortes. But this is not so. He was broken, alike in

health and in spirits, by reason of the many reverses he had met with

in these his latter days.

"We live, to a great measure, upon success; and there is no knowing the

agony that an unvarying course of ill-success causes to a sanguine and

powerful mind which feels that, if only such and such small obstacles

were removed out of its way, it could again shine forth with all its

pristine force and brightness.

"To meet this rejected daughter, who was coming from New Spain, Cortes

went to Seville. There he was taken ill, and, being molested by the

importunity of many persons who came to see him on business, he retired

to a small village, about half a league from Seville, called Castillaje

de la Cuesta. He also sought retirement for the purpose, as Bernal

Diaz says, of making his will and preparing his soul for death. 'And

when he had settled his worldly affairs, our Lord Jesus Christ was

pleased to take him from his troublesome world.' He died on the 2nd of

December, 1547, being then sixty-two years of age."

His bones were interred in Mexico. During the civil wars of the last

century, his bones were taken away and hidden. It is reported that

only the other day the place of his sepulchre had been discovered.

Some monument to his memory should be erected to {224} match the statue

of Guatemoc, which is one of the principal adornments of Mexico.

As is well said by William H. Johnson: "To the honor of Spain be it

said, her rule in Mexico was firm and kind. The Indians became

thoroughly incorporated into the national life, enjoying the

opportunities of advancement as Spaniards. In the present Republic of

Mexico the greatest name has been that of Benito Juarez, the president

who upheld the national cause during the French-Austrian usurpation.

He was of pure Aztec blood. Porfirio Diaz, the gallant soldier who led

the army of the Republic during the same trying period, and who, as its

president, is a model of a strong and wise ruler, is also, in part, a

descendant of the ancient race."

With the following tributes to the great captain the story of his

amazing adventures is ended. Says Helps:

"He was the mighty conqueror of one of the most compact and

well-ordered barbaric nations of the world--a conqueror who, with a few

hundreds of his fellow-countrymen, not all of them his partisans,

overcame hundreds of thousands of fanatic and resolute men fighting

against him with immense resources, and with a resolution nearly equal

to his own. Let us give him the benefit of his sincere belief in

Christianity, and his determination to substitute that beneficent

religion for the hideous and cruel superstition of the people he was

resolved to conquer. And let us echo the wish of that good common

soldier, Bernal Diaz, who, though having his grievances against Cortes,

as all of the other _Conquistadores_ thought they had, could yet, after

watching every turn in the fortunes of the great Marquis, and knowing

almost every sin {225} that he had committed, write most tenderly of

the great captain whose plume he had so often followed to victory.

"After saying that, subsequently to the conquest of Mexico, Cortes had

not had good fortune either in his Californian or his Honduras

expedition, or indeed in anything else he had undertaken, Bernal Diaz

adds, 'Perhaps it was that he might have felicity in heaven. And I

believe it was so, for he was an honorable cavalier, and a devoted

worshipper of the Virgin, the Apostle St. Peter and other Saints. May

God pardon his sins, and mine too, and give me a righteous ending,

which things are of more concern than the conquests and victories that

we had over the Indians.'"

Writes MacNutt:

"His sagacity, his foresight, and his moderation have caused critical

historians to rank him higher as a statesman than as a soldier. In

virtue of his pre-eminent qualities both as a statesman and as a

general, as well as because of the enduring importance of his conquest,

Fernando Cortes occupies an uncontested place amongst the heroes of the

nations."

However we may sympathize with the Aztecs, we cannot escape from the

fact that it was much better that there should be a Spanish rule

instead of an Aztec rule in Mexico, and that the civilization of the

former should supplant the so-called civilization of the latter. That

does not prevent us from wishing that the supersession might not have

been so harsh and ruthless, but in view of the times, and the men, both

Aztecs and Christians, it was not to be expected.

Personally, I love the memory of Guatemoc for his heroism and his

devotion. I also have a warm feeling {226} for Cortes. It is true, as

has been stated, that he was a child of his age, but he was the best

child of his age, and it was not his fault altogether that in some

respects it was the worst age. The Spanish rule in Mexico was better

than the Spanish rule in Peru, and Cortes and his successors, by the

side of Pizarro and his successors, were almost angels of light.

I close with these noble words of John Fiske in his great and highly

valued _Discovery of North America_:

"A great deal of sentimental ink has been shed over the wickedness of

the Spaniards in crossing the ocean and attacking people who had never

done them any harm, overturning and obliterating a 'splendid

civilization,' and more to the same effect. It is undeniable that

unprovoked aggression is an extremely hateful thing, and many of the

circumstances attendant upon the Spanish conquest in America were not

only heinous in their atrocity, but were emphatically condemned, as we

shall presently see, by the best moral standards of the sixteenth

century. Yet if we are to be guided by strict logic, it would be

difficult to condemn the Spaniards for the mere act of conquering

Mexico without involving in the same condemnation our own forefathers

who crossed the ocean and overran the territory of the United States

with small regard for the proprietary rights of Algonquins, or

Iroquois, or red men of any sort. Our forefathers, if called upon to

justify themselves, would have replied that they were founding

Christian states and diffusing the blessings of a higher civilization;

and such, in spite of much alloy in the motives and imperfection in the

performance, was certainly the case. Now if we would not lose or

distort the historical perspective, we must bear in mind that the

Spanish conquerors would have returned {227} exactly the same answer.

If Cortes were to return to the world and pick up some history book in

which he is described as a mere picturesque adventurer, he would feel

himself very unjustly treated. He would say that he had higher aims

than those of a mere fighter and gold-hunter; and so doubtless he had.

In the complex tangle of motives that actuated the mediaeval

Spaniard--and in his peninsula we may apply the term mediaeval to later

dates than would be proper in France or Italy--the desire of extending

the dominion of the Church was a very real and powerful incentive to

action. The strength of the missionary and crusading spirit in Cortes

is seen in the fact that where it was concerned, and there only, was he

liable to let zeal overcome prudence.

"There can be no doubt that, after making all allowances, the Spaniards

did introduce a better state of society into Mexico than they found

there. It was high time that an end should be put to those hecatombs

of human victims, slashed, torn open and devoured on all the little

occasions of life. It sounds quite pithy to say that the Inquisition,

as conducted in Mexico, was as great an evil as the human sacrifices

and the cannibalism; but it is not true. Compared with the ferocious

barbarism of ancient Mexico, the contemporary Spanish modes of life

were mild, and this, I think, helps further to explain the ease with

which the country was conquered. In a certain sense the prophecy of

Quetzalcoatl was fulfilled and the coming of the Spaniards did mean the

final dethronement of the ravening Tezcatlipoca. The work of the noble

Franciscan and Dominican monks who followed closely upon Cortes, and

devoted their lives to the spiritual welfare of the Mexicans, is a more

attractive {228} subject than any picture of military conquest. To

this point I shall return hereafter, when we come to consider the

sublime character of Las Casas. For the present we may conclude in the

spirit of one of the noble Spanish historians, Pedro de Cieza de Leon,

and praise God, that the idols are cast down."

[1] Cortes applies this name to the province in which the city, called

by him Temixtitan, more properly Tenochtitlan, but now Mexico, was

situated. Throughout this article the curious spelling of the great

conqueror is retained as he wrote.

[2] This is the plant known in this country under the name of the

_Century Plant_, which is still much cultivated in Mexico for the

purposes mentioned by Cortes. It usually flowers when eight or ten

years old.

[3] The original has the word _Mesquitas_, mosques; but as the term is

applied in English exclusively to Mohammedan places of worship, one of

more general application is used in the translation.

[4] The title invariably given to Muteczuma (or Montezuma) in these

dispatches is simply Señor, in its sense of Lord or (to use an Indian

word) Cacique; which is also given to the chiefs or governors of

districts or provinces, whether independent or feudatories. The title

of Emperador (Emperor), how generally applied to the Mexican ruler, is

never conferred on him by Cortes, nor any other implying royality,

although in the beginning of this despatch, he assures Charles V. that

the country is extensive enough to constitute an empire.

[5] Two hundred and fifty pounds weight.

[6] I am not ignorant that it has been asserted that Montezuma received

the rite of baptism at the hands of his Christian captors. See

Bustamante's notes on Chimalpain's Translation of Gomara (_Historia de

las Conquistas de Hernando Cortes_. Carlos Maria de Bustamante.

Mexico, 1826, p. 287). But the objection raised by Torquemada--the

silence of some of the best authorities, such as Oviedo, Ixlilxochitl,

_Histoire des Chichimeques_, and of Cortes himself; and, on the other

hand, the distinctly opposing testimony of Bernal Diaz (see cap. 127),

and the statement of Herrera, who asserts that Montezuma, at the hour

of his death, refused to quit the religion of his fathers. ("No se

queria apartar de la Religion de sus Padres." _Hist. de las Indias_,

dec. II. lib. x, cap. 10), convinces me that no such baptism took place.

[7] These gates they had made themselves. The Aztecs had not learned

the art of making gates or doors. The exits and entrances of their

houses were closed, if at all with portières.

[8] It is growing very old and is badly decayed. The newspapers report

that efforts are being made by experts to try a course of treatment

which will preserve this venerable and interesting forest relic,

already nearly four hundred years old, but it is not believed that

success will attend their endeavors.

[9] "Tlaltelulco" was the quarter of the town where the market was

situated.

[10] Archbishop Lorenzana, in his note on this passage, greatly extols

the pious fervor of Cortes, who, he says, "whether in the field or on

the causeway, in the midst of the enemy or toiling by night or day,"

never omitted the celebration of the mass.

[11] They were Andres de Tapia and George de Alvarado, a brother of the

more famous Pedro, Tonatiuh.

[12] Antonio de Quinones was the captain and Francisco de Olea, the

youth, according to Gomara; who says that the latter cut off at one

blow the arms of the men that had seized Cortes, and was himself

immediately slain by the enemy. Cortes was then rescued by

Quinones.--_Cron. Nuev. Esp._ cap., 138.

[13] I wonder where it is! There may be a great amount of it somewhere.

{231}