SUPERSTITIOUS FEAR AND VACILLATING POLICY OF MONTEZUMA.
~The land was ours--this glorious land--
With all its wealth of woods and streams--
Our warriors, strong in heart and hand,
Our daughters, beautiful as dreams.~
* * * * *
~And then we heard the omens say,
That God had sent his angels forth
To sweep our ancient tribes away--~
While these events were transpiring in the ever moving camp of the
victorious invaders, the imperial court of Tenochtitlan was agitated and
distracted by the divided counsels and wavering policy of the
superstitious, fear-stricken monarch, and his various advisers. At one
time, deeply offended by their audacious disregard of his positive
prohibitions, and roused to a sense of his duty as a king, by the
prophetic warning of Karee, which never ceased to ring in his ears,
Montezuma was almost persuaded to give in to the war-party, and send out
an army that should overwhelm the strangers at a blow. But, before this
noble purpose had time to mature itself into action, all his
superstitious fears would revive, and, without coming to any decision
either to move or stand still, he would pause in timid inaction, till
some new success had made the invaders more formidable than before, and
invested their mission with something more of that preternatural
sacredness, which alone had power to unman the monarch, and disarm his
craving ambition. At each advance of the conquering Castilians, he
realized the growing necessity of prompt and efficient measures of
defence, while at the same time he felt a greater reluctance to contend
with fate. The result was, that he only dallied with the foe, by
continually sending new embassies, each, with larger and richer presents
than the preceding, having no effect but to add fuel to their already
burning thirst for gold, and strengthen their determination to
accomplish their original purpose.
These royal embassies were less and less firm and peremptory in their
terms, until they assumed the tone of expostulation, and assigning
various and often conflicting reasons why the Spaniards should not
pursue their route any farther towards the imperial city. At length,
when the courier announced the arrival of the mysterious band at
Tlascala, and the consummation of the alliance between them and his old
and bitter enemies, together with the defection of many cities and
districts, he felt it impossible to remain any longer undecided. His
throne trembled under him. He must act, or it would fall, and involve
him and his house in inevitable ruin. Instead, however, of a bold and
masterly activity in the defence of his capital and crown, he changed
his policy altogether, and sending a new embassy with more splendid
gifts than ever, invited the strangers to his court, and promised them
all the hospitalities of his empire. He designated the route they should
pursue, and gave orders for their reception in all the towns and cities
through which they should pass.
Montezuma was politic and wise in some things; and the purpose he had
now in view, if it had not been frustrated, would have been deemed a
master-stroke of policy, worthy of the ablest disciples of the
Macchiavellian school. Perceiving the necessity of breaking up this
combination of new and old enemies, he had recourse to stratagem to
effect it, intending that the strangers, whom he dared not to oppose
with direct violence, should fall into the snare they had laid for
themselves, in thrusting themselves forward, in despite of his repeated
remonstrances, into the heart of his empire. He feared to raise his own
hand to destroy them, because they were, in his view, commissioned of
heaven to overturn his throne; but he deemed it perfectly consistent
with this reverence for the decrees of fate, to lay a snare into which
they should fall, and so destroy themselves. He little understood the
watchfulness and circumspection of the man he had to deal with, or the
tremendous advantage which their armor of proof and their engines of
destruction gave the Europeans over the almost naked Mexicans, with
their primitive weapons of offence. It was his plan to separate the
foreigners from their new Indian allies, and invite them to come alone
to the capital, as was first proposed. And he designed to assign them
accommodations in one of the ancient palaces, in the heart of the city,
where, surrounded by high walls, on every side, they should be shut up
from all intercourse with the people, and left to perish of famine.
When this purpose was formed, the monarch kept it a profound secret in
his own breast. The ambassadors whom he sent to the Castilian camp, were
of the highest ranks of the nobility, and were accompanied by a long
train of slaves, bearing the rich presents, by which the wily monarch
hoped at the same time to display his own royal munificence, and to
propitiate the favor of the dreaded strangers. Every new display of this
kind only served more effectually to defeat his own hopes; for the
avarice of the Spaniards, whose lust of gold was absolutely insatiable,
was so far from being satisfied with this profusion of royal gifts, that
it was only the more inflamed with every new accession to their
treasures. The only effect, therefore, of these repeated embassies was
to confirm the Spaniards in their convictions of the conscious weakness
of the Mexicans, and make them the more resolute in pushing forward to
complete the subjugation of the whole country, and possess themselves of
all its seemingly inexhaustible treasures of gold.
Montezuma had now another difficulty to contend with, in his endeavor to
rid himself of the intruders. The Tlascalans represented him to Cortez
as false and deceitful as he was ambitious and rapacious, and used every
argument in their power to dissuade him from committing himself to his
hands. But the bold adventurer, always confident in his own resources,
seemed never to think of danger when an object was to be accomplished,
or to regard any thing as impossible which he desired to attain. As
soon as the door was thrown open to his amicable approach to the
capital, he set himself to prepare for the march. The expostulations and
suspicions of the Tlascalans made him, perhaps, more careful in his
preparations against a surprise, and more rigorous in the discipline of
his little corps, than he might otherwise have been. Wherever he was,
his camp was as cautiously posted, as fully and rigidly guarded as if,
on the eve of battle, he was hourly expecting an assault. This
watchfulness was maintained throughout the whole adventurous campaign,
as well when in the midst of friends and allies, as when surrounded by
hostile legions.
After the royal ambassadors had departed with their pacific message, the
mind of Montezuma was harassed and agitated with many doubts of the
propriety of the course he had adopted. His nobles, and the tributary
princes of the neighboring cities of Tezcuco, Tlacopan, and Iztapalapan,
were divided in their opinions. Some complained, though not loudly, of
the weak and vacillating policy of the king. Some, even of the common
people, feared the consequences, anticipating the most disastrous
results, in accordance with their superstitious veneration for the
oracles of their faith. The third day after the departure of the envoys,
the king was pacing up and down one of the beautifully shaded walks of
the royal gardens, listening with a disturbed mind to the powerful
expostulations of his brother, Cuitlahua, who, from the beginning, had
vehemently opposed every concession to the invaders, and urgently
solicited permission to lead the army against them, and drive them from
the land. Suddenly, a voice as of a distant choir of chanters arrested
his ear. The melody was solemn, sweet and soothing. It seemed to come
sometimes from the upper regions of the air, in tones of silvery
clearness and power, sometimes from beneath, in suppressed and muffled
harmony, as when the swell organ soliloquises with all its valves
closed,--sometimes it retreated, as if dying into an echo along the
distant avenues of royal palms and aged cypresses, or the citron and
orange groves that skirted the farther end of the garden, and then,
suddenly, and with great power, it burst in the full tide of impassioned
song, from every tree and bower in that vast paradise of terrestrial
sweets. Enchanted by the more than Circean melody, the brothers paused
in their animated discourse, and stood, for a few moments, in silent
wonder and fixed attention. Presently the chanting ceased, and one
solitary voice broke forth in plaintive but emphatic recitative as from
the midst of the sparkling jet that played its ceaseless tune in the
grand porphyritic basin near which they stood. The words, which were
simple and oracular, struck deep into the heart of Montezuma, and found
a ready response in that of his royal brother.
The lion[C] walks forth in his power and pride,
The terror and lord of the forest wide--
When the fox appears, shall he flee and hide?
* * * * *
The eagle's nest is strong and high,
Unquestioned monarch of the sky--
Should he quail before the falcon's eye?
* * * * *
The sun rides forth through the heavens afar,
Dispensing light from his flaming car--
Should he veil his glory, or turn him back,
When the meteor flashes athwart his track?
* * * * *
Shall the eagle invite the hawk to his nest?
Shall the fox with the lion sit down as a guest?
Shall the meteor look out from the noonday sky,
When the sun in his power is flaming by?
The pauses in this significant chant were followed by choral symphonies,
expressing, as eloquently as inarticulate sounds could do, the most
earnest remonstrance, the most moving expostulation. When this was
concluded, the same sweet voice broke forth again, in tones of solemn
tenderness and majestic power, in a prophetic warning to Montezuma.
Beware, mighty monarch! beware of the hour,
When the pale-faced intruder shall come to this bower!
Beware of the weakness that whispers of fear,
When the all-grasping, gold-seeking Spaniard is near!
Beware how thou readest the dark scroll of fate!
Its mystic revealings may warn thee too late,
That the power to command, and the strength to oppose,
Are gone, when thou openest the gate to thy foes.
The white men are mortal--frail sons of the earth,
They know not, they claim not, a heavenly birth;
They bow to disease, and they fall by the sword,
Pale fear can disarm them, grim death is their lord;
And those terrible coursers, so fiery and strong,
That bear them like ravenous tigers along,
The fleet winged arrow shall pierce them, and slay,
And leave them to eagles and vultures a prey.
Up, monarch! arouse thee--the hour is at hand
When the dark howling tempest shall sweep o'er thy land.
Thy doubts and thy fears, ever changing, are rife
With peril to liberty, honor and life;
And this timid inaction shall surely bring down
To the dust, in dishonor, thy glorious crown;
And leave, to all time, on thy once-honored head,
The curse of a nation forsaken, betrayed.
Oh! rouse thee, brave monarch! there's power in thy hand
To scatter the clouds that hang over thy land.
Speak, speak but the word, there is magic in thee,
Before which the ruthless invader shall flee,
And myriads of braves, all equipped for defence,
Shall leap at thy bidding, and banish him hence;
And the gods, who would frown on the recreant slave,
Will stand by their altars, and fight for the brave.
The effect of this mysterious warning upon the mind of Montezuma was
exceedingly powerful, and seemed, for a time, to change his purpose and
fix his resolution. With an energy and decision to which he had long
been a stranger, he turned to his brother, and said, "Cuitlahua, you are
right. This realm is mine. The gods have made me the father of this
people. I must and will defend them. The strangers shall be driven back,
or die. They shall never profane the temples and altars of Tenochtitlan,
by entering within its gates, or looking upon its walls. Go, marshall
your host, and prepare to meet them, before they advance a step
further."
Exulting in this sudden demonstration of his ancient martial spirit in
his royal brother, and fired with a double zeal in the cause he had so
much at heart, by the thrilling influence upon his soul of the
mysterious oracle, whose message had been uttered in his hearing,
Cuitlahua scarcely waited for the ordinary courtesy of bidding farewell
to the king, but flew with the speed of the wind, to execute the
grateful trust committed to him. Despatching his messengers in every
direction, only a few hours elapsed before his army was drawn up in the
great square of the city; and, ere the sun had gone down, they had
passed the gates, traversed the grand causeway that linked the
amphibious city with the main land, and pitched their camp in a
favorable position, several leagues on the way to Cholula.
The ardent imagination of the prince of Iztapalapan kindled at the
prospect now opened before. The clouds, so long hanging over his beloved
country, were dissipated as by magic, and the clear light of heaven
streamed in upon his path, promising a quick and easy conquest, a
glorious triumph, and a permanent peace. He had been in many battles,
but had never been defeated. He believed the Mexican army invincible any
where, but especially on their own soil, and fighting for their altars
and their hearths. Terrible as the invading strangers had been hitherto,
he had no fear of the coming encounter. He confidently expected to
annihilate them at a blow. Happily his soldiers were all animated with
the same spirit, and they took to their rest that night, eager for the
morning to come, that should light them on their way to a certain and
glorious victory.
No sooner had the army departed, than a change came over the spirit of
the ill-fated Montezuma. The demons of doubt and fear returned to
perplex and harass his soul, and to incline him again to that
vacillating policy, those half way measures, by which his doom was to be
sealed. In an agony of distrust and suspense, he recounted to himself
the history of the past, reviewing all those dark and fearful
prophecies, those oft-repeated and mysteriously significant omens,
which, for so many years, had foreshadowed the events of the present
day, and revealed the inevitable doom of the empire, sealed with the
signet of heaven. The impressions produced by the recent warnings of
Karee faded and disappeared before the deep and indelible traces of
those ancient oracles, on which he had been accustomed from his youth
sacredly to rely. He was once more adrift in a tempest of contending
impulses, at one moment abandoning all in a paroxism of despair, at
another, vainly flattering himself with the hope of deliverance in some
ill-formed stratagem, but never nerving himself to a tone of resolute
defiance, or venturing to rest a hope on the issue of an open encounter.
The result of all this agitation was, another abandonment of his noble
purpose of defence, and a new resort to stratagem. But the plan of
operations, and the scene of execution, were changed. Cholula was
selected as the theatre of destruction. The Spaniards had already been
invited to take that city in their route, and orders had been given, and
preparations made, for their hospitable reception. It was now resolved
to make their acceptance of that invitation the signal and seal of their
destruction. They were to be drawn into the city, alone, under the
pretence that the presence of their Tlascalan allies, who were the
ancient and bitter enemies of the Cholulans, would be likely to create
disturbance in the city, and lead to collision if not to bloodshed. The
Cholulans were instructed to provide them with a place of encampment, in
the heart of their city, where they could easily be surrounded, and cut
to pieces. The streets of the city were then to be broken up by deep
pits in some places, and barricades in others, to impede the movements
of the horses, more dreaded than even the thunder and lightning of their
riders. This being completed under cover of the night, the city was to
be filled with soldiers ready to do the work of execution, while the
brave Cuitlahua, with the flower of the army of Tenochtitlan, was to
encamp at a convenient distance without the walls, to render prompt
assistance, in case it should be needed.
This plan being fully arranged in the mind of the Emperor, messengers
were despatched with the light of the morning, to arrest the movements
of Cuitlahua, and convey the necessary orders to the governor of
Cholula. The warlike chieftain was deeply chagrined, and bitterly
disappointed, in finding his orders so suddenly countermanded. He saw
only certain ruin in the ever-wavering policy of the king, and was
unable to conceive of any hope, except in striking a bold and decisive
blow. He was willing to stake all upon a single cast, and drive back the
insolent invader, or perish in the attempt. But Montezuma was the
absolute monarch. His word was law; and, though not irreversible like
that of the Medo-Persian, it was never to be questioned by any of his
subjects. The hero must therefore rest on his arms, and await the issue
of a doubtful stratagem.
Meanwhile, the eager and self sufficient Castilians had pushed forward
to Cholula, and entered its gates, under a royal escort, that came out
to meet them, and amid the constrained shouts and half hearted
congratulations of a countless multitude of natives, who with mingled
fear, hatred and curiosity, gazed on the conquerors as a superior race
of beings, and made way for them on every side, to take possession of
their city. They were received with the greatest deference and
consideration by the chiefs of the little republic, and the ambassadors
of Montezuma, who had halted on their way, to prepare a more honorable
reception for their guests, and further to ingratiate them with their
master, by doing away, as far they could, the unfavorable impressions of
him and his people, which might have made on their minds, by their
intercourse with their old and implacable enemies of the republic of
Tlascala.
Such was the mutual jealousy and hatred of these neighboring nations,
that, while the Cholulans could, in no wise agree to admit the
Tlascalans to accompany Cortez into their city, they, on their part,
were extremely reluctant to allow him to go in alone, assuring him in
the strongest terms, that they were the most treacherous and deceitful
of men, and their promises and professions utterly unworthy of
confidence. Scorning danger, however, and determined at all hazards, to
embrace every opening that seemed to facilitate his approach to the
Mexican capital, he marched fearlessly in, and took up his quarters in
the great square, or market place. Here, ample accommodations were
provided for him and his band. Every courtesy was extended to them by
the citizens and their rulers. Their table was amply supplied with all
the necessaries and luxuries of the place. They were regarded with a
kind of superstitious awe by the multitude, as a race of beings
belonging to another world, of ethereal mould, and supernatural powers;
and their camp was visited by those of all ranks, and all ages, eager to
catch a view of the terrible strangers.
A few days after their arrival, a new embassy from the imperial palace
was announced. They held no communication with Cortez, but had a long
consultation with the previous envoys still remaining there, and with
the authorities of the city. From this time, there was a striking change
in the aspect of the Cholulans towards their guests. They were soon made
to perceive and feel that, though invited, they were not welcome guests.
The daily supplies for their table were greatly diminished. They
received but few and formal visits from the chiefs, and but cold
attention from any of the nobles. Cortez was quick to perceive the
change, but unable to divine its meaning. It caused him many an anxious
hour, especially when he remembered the serious and urgent
representations of his Tlascalan allies of the deceitful and treacherous
character of the Cholulans. His apprehensions were by no means
diminished, when he learned from the morning report of the night guards,
that through the entire night, which had hitherto been a season of
perfect silence and repose in the city, sounds were heard on every side,
as of people earnestly engaged in some works of fortification, sometimes
digging in the earth, sometimes laying up stones in heaps, and in
various other ways, "vexing the dull ear of night with uncouth noise."
It was found, on examination, that the streets in many places were
barricaded, and holes, in others, were lightly covered with branches of
trees. Unable to explain these matters, and not wishing to give offence
to his entertainers by enquiring too curiously into what might be no
more than the ordinary preparation for a national festival, he sent one
of his chief officers to report to the Tlascalan commander, without the
gates of the city, and enquire what might be the meaning of these
singular movements. Having learned in reply, that a hostile attack was
undoubtedly contemplated, and that a large force of Mexicans, under
command of the brave Cuitlahua, brother of Montezuma, was encamped at no
great distance, ready to co-operate with the Cholulans at a moment's
warning, and that a great number of victims had been offered in
sacrifice, to propitiate the favor of their gods, the haughty Spaniard
found his position any thing but agreeable. He was a stranger to fear,
but he was certainly most sadly perplexed. And, when, in addition to the
information already received, he learned from Marina, his female
interpreter, that she had been warned by a friend in the city to abandon
the Spaniards, that she might not be involved in their ruin, he was, for
a time, quite at a loss what to do. To retreat, would be to manifest
fear, and a distrust of his own resources, which might be fatal to his
future influence with the natives. To remain where he was--inactive,
would be to stand still in the yawning crater of a volcano, when the
overcharged cauldron below had already begun to belch forth sulphureous
flames and smoke.
The character of the conqueror was one precisely adapted to such
exigencies as this. Through the whole course of his wonderful career, he
seems to have rushed into difficulty, for the mere pleasure of fighting
his way out. In order to extricate himself, he never lost a moment in
parleying or diplomacy. His measures were bold, decided, and direct,
indicating a self-reliance, and a confidence in his men and means, which
is the surest guaranty of success. In this case, having satisfied
himself of the actual existence of a conspiracy, he sent for the chief
rulers, upbraided them with their want of hospitality, informed them
that he should leave the place at break of day the next morning, and
demanded a large number of men, to assist in removing his baggage.
Promising to comply with this demand, which favored the execution of
their own designs, the chiefs departed, and Cortez and his band,
sleeping on their arms, prepared for the coming conflict.
Punctually, at the peep of dawn, the princes of Cholula marched into the
court, accompanied by a much larger number of men than Cortez had
required. With a calm bold air, the haughty Castilian confronted them,
charging them with treachery, and detailing all the circumstances of the
concerted massacre. He upbraided them with their duplicity and baseness,
and gave them to understand that they should pay dear for their
false-hearted and cruel designs against those, who, confiding in their
hospitality and promises of friendship, had come to their city, and
slept quietly within their gates.
Thunderstruck at this unexpected turn of affairs, and fearing more than
ever the strange beings, who could read their very thoughts, and fathom
the designs which were yet scarcely matured in their own bosoms, the
disconcerted magnates tremblingly pleaded guilty to the charge, and
attempted to excuse themselves, by urging their allegiance to Montezuma,
and the duty and necessity of obeying his commands, however repugnant
to their own feelings.
It was not the policy of Cortez to admit this plea, in extenuation of
their treachery. He preferred to cast the whole burden upon them alone,
and leave the way open for an easy disclaimer on the part of the
emperor, hoping thereby the more readily to gain a peaceable entry into
the capital. Without waiting, therefore, for any further explanations,
or instituting any inquiry into the comparative guilt of the parties, he
gave the signal to his soldiers, who, with a general discharge of their
artillery and fire arms, rushed upon the unprepared multitude, mowing
them down like grass, and trampling them under the hoofs of their
horses. A general massacre ensued. Not one of the chiefs escaped, and
only so many of their panic-struck followers, as could feign themselves
dead, or bury themselves, till the tempest was past, under the heaps of
their slain comrades.
Thus taken by surprise, and driven, before they were ready, into an
unequal conflict with enemies who had, by some miracle, as they
supposed, anticipated their movements, and struck the first blow, the
Cholulans rushed in from all parts of their city, hoping to retrieve, by
their numbers and prowess, the disadvantage of the lost onset. Cortez
had prepared for this. He had ordered his artillery to be stationed at
the main entrances to the square, where they poured in a raking fire
upon the assailants, rushing in from all the avenues. The surprise being
so sudden, and the leaders having been shot down at the first charge,
confusion and consternation prevailed among the discomfited Cholulans,
who alternately fled, like affrighted sheep, from the scene of
slaughter, and then rushed back, like exasperated wolves, to the work of
death.
In anticipation of this conflict, the Spanish general had concerted a
signal with his Tlascalan allies, without the gates, who now came
rushing in, like hungry tigers, revelling in the opportunity to inflict
a terrible vengeance upon their ancient enemies. Falling upon their
rear, as they crowded in from the remoter quarters of the city towards
the field of carnage, they drove them in upon the weapons of the
Spaniards, from which there was now no escape. Turning upon this new
enemy, they fought with desperate bravery, to win a retreat. But they
were cut down on this side and that, till the streets were scarcely
passable for the heaps of the dead and dying that cumbered them. Those
who took refuge in their houses and temples, found no safety in such
retreats, for they were instantly fired by the Tlascalans, and their
defenders perished miserably in the flames.
There was one scene in the midst of this desolating conflict, that was
truly sublime,--one of those strange combinations of moral and physical
grandeur, which sometimes occur in the dark annals of human warfare,
investing with a kind of hallowed interest, which the lapse of ages
serves only to soften, but never destroys, those spectacles of savage
but heroic cruelty, where every death is elevated into a martyrdom, and
the very ground saturated with human blood becomes a consecrated field,
clothed with laurels of never-fading green. It was the last act in that
bloody drama, enacted on the lofty summit of the great Teocalli, the
principal temple of Cholula, and the centre of attraction to all the
votaries of the Aztec religion, throughout the wide realms of Anahuac.
Driven from street to street, and from quarter to quarter, and falling
back, as a forlorn hope, upon the sanctuary, and the support and
encouragement of the hoary men, who presided over the mysteries of their
faith, they made a bold and desperate stand, in defence of all that was
dear and holy in their homes and their altars. Step by step, they
contested this hallowed ground, till they reached the upper terrace,
where the great temple stood. This was an area of four hundred feet
square, at an elevation of two hundred feet from the level of the
surrounding streets. On this elevated platform, the furious combatants
fought hand to hand; the priest, in his sacred garments, mingling in the
savage conflict with the humblest of his followers--the steel-clad
Castilian, the Tlascalan and the Cholulan, of every rank and grade, each
eager only to slay his man, grappled in the mortal conflict, till one or
the other fell in the death struggle, or tumbled over the side of the
mound, to be dashed in pieces below. As the half-armed, half-naked
natives melted away before the heavy and destructive weapons of the
invulnerable Spaniards, they were repeatedly offered quarter, but
scorned to accept it. One only submitted, when, pierced with countless
wounds, he could stand no longer. All the rest, to a man, fought
desperately till he fell, and many, even then, in the agonies of the
last struggle, seized their antagonists by the legs, and rolled with
them over the parapet, to the certain death of both.
At length the conflict ceased for want of a victim, and the conquering
Castilian, with a few of his Tlascalan allies, stood alone, in
undisputed possession of this lofty vantage ground. The disheartened
Cholulans, without leaders, without counsellors, seeing their sacred
temple in the hands of their enemies, felt that all was lost. Not
another blow was struck, but every where they bowed in submission to the
irresistible conqueror.
The thunder of the artillery, and the smoke of the burning buildings,
rising in a heavy column to the skies, announced to the Mexican army the
conflict that was raging within the city. But, having orders not to
engage in the fray, unless notified by the Cholulan chiefs that his
assistance was necessary, the brave Cuitlahua was compelled to wait the
summons. Burning to vindicate the honor of the Mexican arms, the hero
chafed under this cruel restraint, like a tiger chained in full view of
his prey. He little doubted that the Castilians would fall by the hands
of the Cholulans, encompassed as they were on every side, with no room
for escape, or for the action of their horses. But he longed to have a
share in the victory. Drawing up his forces in the order of march, he
stood, the whole day, in readiness to move at a moment's warning; and in
this attitude, he was still standing, when the tidings of the terrible
disaster in the city reached him.
His veteran legions were with difficulty restrained from rushing to the
rescue. The army was almost in a state of mutiny, from their eagerness
to avenge their slaughtered brethren in Cholula; and all the military
authority, and unbounded influence of Cuitlahua were required to keep
them in a state of due subordination.
The influence and authority of Cortez, on the other hand, were scarcely
sufficient to restrain his victorious allies from ravaging the city, and
putting men, women, and children to an indiscriminate slaughter. So
bitter and pervading was the old national animosity, that life was
scarcely worth possessing to a Tlascalan, if he must share its daily
blessings side by side with the Aztec. He hated the whole nation with a
perfect implacable hatred. He execrated the very name, and never uttered
it without a curse. Of this universal malediction, the Cholulan was
honored with more than his appropriate share. The other subjects and
tributaries of Montezuma they feared as well as hated. The Cholulans
they affected also to despise, though their contempt was not so thorough
as to mitigate in the least their fierce and uncontrollable hatred.
[C] As Americus Vespucius, in his letter to Lorenzo Di
Pier-Francesco De Medici, reports having met with the lion in
South America, I have taken the liberty to introduce him as a
native in our forests, notwithstanding the prevalent opinion of
naturalists to the contrary.