DISCONTENTS IN THE ARMY--TLASCALAN SPIES--PEACE WITH THE
REPUBLIC--EMBASSY FROM MONTEZUMA
1519
Desirous to keep up the terror of the Castilian name by leaving the
enemy no respite, Cortés, on the same day that he despatched the embassy
to Tlascala, put himself at the head of a small corps of cavalry and
light troops to scour the neighboring country. He was at that time so
ill from fever, aided by medical treatment,[154] that he could hardly
keep his seat in the saddle. It was a rough country, and the sharp winds
from the frosty summits of the mountains pierced the scanty covering of
the troops and chilled both men and horses. Four or five of the animals
gave out, and the general, alarmed for their safety, sent them back to
the camp. The soldiers, discouraged by this ill omen, would have
persuaded him to return. But he made answer, “We fight under the banner
of the Cross; God is stronger than nature,”[155] and continued his
march.
It led through the same kind of checkered scenery of rugged hill and
cultivated plain as that already described, well covered with towns and
villages, some of them the frontier posts occupied by the Otomies.
Practising the Roman maxim of lenity to the submissive foe, he took full
vengeance on those who resisted, and, as resistance too often occurred,
marked his path with fire and desolation. After a short absence, he
returned in safety, laden with the plunder of a successful foray. It
would have been more honorable to him had it been conducted with less
rigor. The excesses are imputed by Bernal Diaz to the Indian allies,
whom in the heat of victory it was found impossible to restrain.[156] On
whose head soever they fall, they seem to have given little uneasiness
to the general, who declares in his letter to the emperor Charles the
Fifth, “As we fought under the standard of the Cross,[157] for the true
Faith, and the service of your Highness, Heaven crowned our arms with
such success that, while multitudes of the infidel were slain, little
loss was suffered by the Castilians.”[158] The Spanish Conquerors, to
judge from their writings, unconscious of any worldly motive lurking in
the bottom of their hearts, regarded themselves as soldiers of the
Church, fighting the great battle of Christianity, and in the same
edifying and comfortable light are regarded by most of the national
historians of a later day.[159]
On his return to the camp, Cortés found a new cause of disquietude, in
discontents which had broken out among the soldiery. Their patience was
exhausted by a life of fatigue and peril to which there seemed to be no
end. The battles they had won against such tremendous odds had not
advanced them a jot. The idea of their reaching Mexico, says the old
soldier so often quoted, “was treated as a jest by the whole army;”[160]
and the indefinite prospect of hostilities with the ferocious people
among whom they were now cast threw a deep gloom over their spirits.
Among the malecontents were a number of noisy, vaporing persons, such as
are found in every camp, who, like empty bubbles, are sure to rise to
the surface and make themselves seen in seasons of agitation. They were,
for the most part, of the old faction of Velasquez, and had estates in
Cuba, to which they turned many a wistful glance as they receded more
and more from the coast. They now waited on the general, not in a
mutinous spirit of resistance (for they remembered the lesson in Villa
Rica), but with the design of frank expostulation, as with a brother
adventurer in a common cause.[161] The tone of familiarity thus assumed
was eminently characteristic of the footing of equality on which the
parties in the expedition stood with one another.
Their sufferings, they told him, were too great to be endured. All the
men had received one, most of them two or three wounds. More than fifty
had perished, in one way or another, since leaving Vera Cruz. There was
no beast of burden but led a life preferable to theirs. For, when the
night came, the former could rest from his labors; but they, fighting or
watching, had no rest, day nor night. As to conquering Mexico, the very
thought of it was madness. If they had encountered such opposition from
the petty republic of Tlascala, what might they not expect from the
great Mexican empire? There was now a temporary suspension of
hostilities. They should avail themselves of it to retrace their steps
to Vera Cruz. It is true, the fleet there was destroyed; and by this
act, unparalleled for rashness even in Roman annals, the general had
become responsible for the fate of the whole army. Still there was one
vessel left. That might be despatched to Cuba for reinforcements and
supplies; and, when these arrived, they would be enabled to resume
operations with some prospect of success.
Cortés listened to this singular expostulation with perfect composure.
He knew his men, and, instead of rebuke or harsher measures, replied in
the same frank and soldier-like vein which they had affected.
There was much truth, he allowed, in what they said. The sufferings of
the Spaniards had been great; greater than those recorded of any heroes
in Greek or Roman story. So much the greater would be their glory. He
had often been filled with admiration as he had seen his little host
encircled by myriads of barbarians, and felt that no people but
Spaniards could have triumphed over such formidable odds. Nor could
they, unless the arm of the Almighty had been over them. And they might
reasonably look for his protection hereafter; for was it not in his
cause they were fighting? They had encountered dangers and difficulties,
it was true. But they had not come here expecting a life of idle
dalliance and pleasure. Glory, as he had told them at the outset, was to
be won only by toil and danger. They would do him the justice to
acknowledge that he had never shrunk from his share of both. This was a
truth, adds the honest chronicler who heard and reports the dialogue,
which no one could deny. But, if they had met with hardships, he
continued, they had been everywhere victorious. Even now they were
enjoying the fruits of this, in the plenty which reigned in the camp.
And they would soon see the Tlascalans, humbled by their late reverses,
suing for peace on any terms. To go back now was impossible. The very
stones would rise up against them. The Tlascalans would hunt them in
triumph down to the water’s edge. And how would the Mexicans exult at
this miserable issue of their vain-glorious vaunts! Their former friends
would become their enemies; and the Totonacs, to avert the vengeance of
the Aztecs, from which the Spaniards could no longer shield them, would
join in the general cry. There was no alternative, then, but to go
forward in their career. And he besought them to silence their
pusillanimous scruples, and, instead of turning their eyes towards Cuba,
to fix them on Mexico, the great object of their enterprise.
While this singular conference was going on, many other soldiers had
gathered round the spot; and the discontented party, emboldened by the
presence of their comrades, as well as by the general’s forbearance,
replied that they were far from being convinced. Another such victory as
the last would be their ruin. They were going to Mexico only to be
slaughtered. Until, at length, the general’s patience being exhausted,
he cut the argument short, by quoting a verse from an old song, implying
that it was better to die with honor than to live disgraced,--a
sentiment which was loudly echoed by the greater part of his audience,
who, notwithstanding their occasional murmurs, had no design to abandon
the expedition, still less the commander to whom they were passionately
devoted. The malecontents, disconcerted by this rebuke, slunk back to
their own quarters, muttering half-smothered execrations on the leader
who had projected the enterprise, the Indians who had guided him, and
their own countrymen who supported him in it.[162]
Such were the difficulties that lay in the path of Cortés: a wily and
ferocious enemy; a climate uncertain, often unhealthy; illness in his
own person, much aggravated by anxiety as to the manner in which his
conduct would be received by his sovereign; last, not least,
disaffection among his soldiers, on whose constancy and union he rested
for the success of his operations,--the great lever by which he was to
overturn the empire of Montezuma.
On the morning following this event, the camp was surprised by the
appearance of a small body of Tlascalans, decorated with badges, the
white color of which intimated peace. They brought a quantity of
provisions, and some trifling ornaments, which, they said, were sent by
the Tlascalan general, who was weary of the war and desired an
accommodation with the Spaniards. He would soon present himself to
arrange this in person. The intelligence diffused general joy, and the
emissaries received a friendly welcome.
A day or two elapsed, and, while a few of the party left the Spanish
quarters, the others, about fifty in number, who remained, excited some
distrust in the bosom of Marina. She communicated her suspicions to
Cortés that they were spies. He caused several of them, in consequence,
to be arrested, examined them separately, and ascertained that they were
employed by Xicotencatl to inform him of the state of the Christian
camp, preparatory to a meditated assault, for which he was mustering his
forces. Cortés, satisfied of the truth of this, determined to make such
an example of the delinquents as should intimidate his enemy from
repeating the attempt. He ordered their hands to be cut off, and in that
condition sent them back to their countrymen, with the message “that the
Tlascalans might come by day or night; they would find the Spaniards
ready for them.”[163]
The doleful spectacle of their comrades returning in this mutilated
state filled the Indian camp with horror and consternation. The haughty
crest of their chief was humbled. From that moment he lost his wonted
buoyancy and confidence. His soldiers, filled with superstitious fear,
refused to serve longer against a foe who could read their very thoughts
and divine their plans before they were ripe for execution.[164]
The punishment inflicted by Cortés may well shock the reader by its
brutality. But it should be considered, in mitigation, that the victims
of it were spies, and, as such, by the laws of war, whether among
civilized or savage nations, had incurred the penalty of death. The
amputation of the limbs was a milder punishment, and reserved for
inferior offences. If we revolt at the barbarous nature of the sentence,
we should reflect that it was no uncommon one at that day; not more
uncommon, indeed, than whipping and branding with a hot iron were in our
own country at the beginning of the present century, or than cropping
the ears was in the preceding one. A higher civilization, indeed,
rejects such punishments, as pernicious in themselves, and degrading to
humanity. But in the sixteenth century they were openly recognized by
the laws of the most polished nations in Europe. And it is too much to
ask of any man, still less one bred to the iron trade of war, to be in
advance of the refinement of his age. We may be content if, in
circumstances so unfavorable to humanity he does not fall below it.
All thoughts of further resistance being abandoned, the four delegates
of the Tlascalan republic were now allowed to proceed on their mission.
They were speedily followed by Xicotencatl himself, attended by a
numerous train of military retainers. As they drew near the Spanish
lines, they were easily recognized by the white and yellow colors of
their uniforms, the livery of the house of Titcala. The joy of the army
was great at this sure intimation of the close of hostilities; and it
was with difficulty that Cortés was enabled to restore the men to
tranquillity and the assumed indifference which it was proper to
maintain in presence of an enemy.
The Spaniards gazed with curious eye on the valiant chief who had so
long kept his enemies at bay, and who now advanced with the firm and
fearless step of one who was coming rather to bid defiance than to sue
for peace. He was rather above the middle size, with broad shoulders,
and a muscular frame intimating great activity and strength. His head
was large, and his countenance marked with the lines of hard service
rather than of age, for he was but thirty-five. When he entered the
presence of Cortés, he made the usual salutation by touching the ground
with his hand and carrying it to his head; while the sweet incense of
aromatic gums rolled up in clouds from the censers carried by his
slaves.
Far from a pusillanimous attempt to throw the blame on the senate, he
assumed the whole responsibility of the war. He had considered the
white men, he said, as enemies, for they came with the allies and
vassals of Montezuma. He loved his country, and wished to preserve the
independence which she had maintained through her long wars with the
Aztecs. He had been beaten. They might be the strangers who, it had been
so long predicted, would come from the east, to take possession of the
country. He hoped they would use their victory with moderation, and not
trample on the liberties of the republic. He came now in the name of his
nation, to tender their obedience to the Spaniards, assuring them they
would find his countrymen as faithful in peace as they had been firm in
war.
Cortés, far from taking umbrage, was filled with admiration at the lofty
spirit which thus disdained to stoop beneath misfortunes. The brave man
knows how to respect bravery in another. He assumed, however, a severe
aspect, as he rebuked the chief for having so long persisted in
hostilities. Had Xicotencatl believed the word of the Spaniards, and
accepted their proffered friendship sooner, he would have spared his
people much suffering, which they well merited by their obstinacy. But
it was impossible, continued the general, to retrieve the past. He was
willing to bury it in oblivion, and to receive the Tlascalans as vassals
to the emperor, his master. If they proved true, they should find him a
sure column of support; if false, he would take such vengeance on them
as he had intended to take on their capital had they not speedily given
in their submission. It proved an ominous menace for the chief to whom
it was addressed.
The cacique then ordered his slaves to bring forward some trifling
ornaments of gold and feather-embroidery, designed as presents. They
were of little value, he said, with a smile, for the Tlascalans were
poor. They had little gold, not even cotton, nor salt. The Aztec emperor
had left them nothing but their freedom and their arms. He offered this
gift only as a token of his good will. “As such I receive it,” answered
Cortés, “and, coming from the Tlascalans, set more value on it than I
should from any other source, though it were a house full of gold;”--a
politic as well as magnanimous reply, for it was by the aid of this good
will that he was to win the gold of Mexico.[165]
Thus ended the bloody war with the fierce republic of Tlascala, during
the course of which the fortunes of the Spaniards more than once had
trembled in the balance. Had it been persevered in but a little longer,
it must have ended in their confusion and ruin, exhausted as they were
by wounds, watching, and fatigues, with the seeds of disaffection
rankling among themselves. As it was, they came out of the fearful
contest with untarnished glory. To the enemy they seemed invulnerable,
bearing charmed lives, proof alike against the accidents of fortune and
the assaults of man. No wonder that they indulged a similar conceit in
their own bosoms, and that the humblest Spaniard should have fancied
himself the subject of a special interposition of Providence, which
shielded him in the hour of battle and reserved him for a higher
destiny.
While the Tlascalans were still in the camp, an embassy was announced
from Montezuma. Tidings of the exploits of the Spaniards had spread far
and wide over the plateau. The emperor, in particular, had watched every
step of their progress, as they climbed the steeps of the Cordilleras
and advanced over the broad table-land on their summit. He had seen
them, with great satisfaction, take the road to Tlascala, trusting that,
if they were mortal men, they would find their graves there. Great was
his dismay when courier after courier brought him intelligence of their
successes, and that the most redoubtable warriors on the plateau had
been scattered like chaff by the swords of this handful of strangers.
His superstitious fears returned in full force. He saw in the Spaniards
“the men of destiny,” who were to take possession of his sceptre. In his
alarm and uncertainty, he sent a new embassy to the Christian camp. It
consisted of five great nobles of his court, attended by a train of two
hundred slaves. They brought with them a present, as usual, dictated
partly by fear and in part by the natural munificence of his
disposition. It consisted of three thousand ounces of gold, in grains,
or in various manufactured articles, with several hundred mantles and
dresses of embroidered cotton and the picturesque feather-work. As they
laid these at the feet of Cortés, they told him they had come to offer
the congratulations of their master on the late victories of the white
men. The emperor only regretted that it would not be in his power to
receive them in his capital, where the numerous population was so unruly
that their safety would be placed in jeopardy. The mere intimation of
the Aztec emperor’s wishes, in the most distant way, would have sufficed
with the Indian nations. It had very little weight with the Spaniards;
and the envoys, finding this puerile expression of them ineffectual,
resorted to another argument, offering a tribute in their master’s name
to the Castilian sovereign, provided the Spaniards would relinquish
their visit to his capital. This was a greater error: it was displaying
the rich casket with one hand which he was unable to defend with the
other. Yet the author of this pusillanimous policy, the unhappy victim
of superstition, was a monarch renowned among the Indian nations for his
intrepidity and enterprise,--the terror of Anahuac!
Cortés, while he urged his own sovereign’s commands as a reason for
disregarding the wishes of Montezuma, uttered expressions of the most
profound respect for the Aztec prince, and declared that if he had not
the means of requiting his munificence, as he could wish, at present, he
trusted _to repay him, at some future day, with good works_![166]
The Mexican ambassadors were not much gratified with finding the war at
an end, and a reconciliation established between their mortal enemies
and the Spaniards. The mutual disgust of the two parties with each other
was too strong to be repressed even in the presence of the general, who
saw with satisfaction the evidences of a jealousy which, undermining the
strength of the Indian emperor, was to prove the surest source of his
own success.[167]
Two of the Aztec envoys returned to Mexico, to acquaint their sovereign
with the state of affairs in the Spanish camp. The others remained with
the army, Cortés being willing that they should be personal spectators
of the deference shown him by the Tlascalans. Still he did not hasten
his departure for their capital. Not that he placed reliance on the
injurious intimations of the Mexicans respecting their good faith. Yet
he was willing to put this to some longer trial, and at the same time to
re-establish his own health more thoroughly before his visit. Meanwhile,
messengers daily arrived from the city, pressing his journey, and were
finally followed by some of the aged rulers of the republic, attended by
a numerous retinue, impatient of his long delay. They brought with them
a body of five hundred _tamanes_, or _men of burden_, to drag his cannon
and relieve his own forces from this fatiguing part of their duty. It
was impossible to defer his departure longer; and after mass, and a
solemn thanksgiving to the great Being who had crowned their arms with
triumph, the Spaniards bade adieu to the quarters which they had
occupied for nearly three weeks on the hill of Tzompach. The strong
tower, or _teocalli_, which commanded it, was called, in commemoration
of their residence, “the tower of victory;” and the few stones which
still survive of its ruins point out to the eye of the traveller a spot
ever memorable in history for the courage and constancy of the early
Conquerors.[168]