the most delight. The gold one represented the sun, and was richly
carved with plants and animals. Where are all these things now? So
utterly disappeared that many people believe they only existed in the
imagination of the chronicler of the Conquest.
No wonder that such startling treasures proved an invitation more potent
than the twice translated prayer to go away which accompanied them.
The Spaniards were impatient to move at once. Cortés, charmed with the
grace and intelligence of the young interpreter, encouraged her by every
sign of favor, and she, young, forlorn, deserted, expanded under the
warmth of his kindness and flattery. In a very short time she acquired
enough Spanish to interpret directly for her lord and master, who became
the object of her intense adoration.
Marina was very beautiful, according to the description of the Spanish
chroniclers. If she were at all like the descendants of her race, she
wore, doubtless, a white loose garment, embroidered in the square neck
and sleeves with red; her black hair was braided in two long tresses
interwoven with pearls and coral. Her slightly copper-colored tint was
clear enough for a soft play of rose in her cheeks; her large soft eyes
beamed, and her white teeth flashed as she smiled; while, for the most
part, her oval face remained grave, almost sad, in its expression. She
was slight, graceful, with small hands and feet.
From this time forward Malintzi was always at the side of the conqueror,
aiding him not only as interpreter, but with her surprising vigilance,
and perception of the tendency of events due to the knowledge of the
natives. She was always full of courage, and had the endurance of a man,
sharing all the sufferings of the little army with patience and even
gayety. In fact, she had never been so happy before, and the hardships
of the camp were nothing compared with the trials of her earlier life.
She witnessed the slaughter of her countrymen with grief, and interceded
always in favor of the conquered; but no thought of patriotism troubled
her mind as she deliberately surrendered the land to the hands of its
enemies.
Later, Malintzi lived to contemplate the ruin she had helped to make,
in a time when she had outlived the brief happiness of her sojourn with
the Conquistadores. But we will leave her now, full of joy, affection,
courage, the proudest, most useful of petted interpreters, in order not
to anticipate the current of the story.
XV.
TLAXCALLA.
As we have seen, the little province of Tlaxcalla was situated in an
isolated position among the mountains, holding itself independent, and
always hostile to the Confederates of the Valley, as the Mexicans and
their allies are now called. The Conquistadores describe it as a
formidable state, bearing the name of a republic, of ancient origin and
advanced civilization. They speak of its capital as a splendid city,
divided into four quarters, each governed by an hereditary chieftain,
who exercised his authority over a number of dependent villages assigned
to him. They give to the little republic, which contained scarcely fifty
square miles, the dignity of a confederacy of four separate states with
one common head.
In this constant exaggeration we must remember that Cortés was in the
hands of the interpreters, one of them Malintzi, who may have used the
word for republic when she meant tribe, and splendid city instead of
pueblo. We may allow ourselves to think that.
The Tlaxcallans were an orderly, excellent people; to gain the
friendship of such a tribe was highly important to the Spanish
conqueror. To their loyalty and good faith he applied the arts of his
eloquence and bravery, and awaited at a distance the results of an
embassy which he sent forward. There was a stormy discussion in the
councils of Tlaxcalla, between the chiefs who welcomed allies against
their great enemy, Montezuma, and those who feared the intervention of
unknown warriors, come from afar, of whose intentions they had no means
of judging. Those which prevailed were for a third course, by which a
trap was laid for the Spaniards without implicating at first the
Tlaxcallans.
Cortés, impatient of delay, pressed forward without waiting for his
answer, and found himself, September 2, 1519, before an army of Otomis,
a tribe friendly to the Tlaxcallans, whom they had persuaded to attack
the strangers, without mixing in the fight themselves. Cortés easily
repulsed this savage band, and without pressing his advantage, again
attempted negotiations with the republic; but by this time a haughty
message was returned to him that "the strangers which the sea had thrown
up could come if they chose to the great city, to become sacrifices to
the gods and served up at a sacred festival." Cortés, of course, was
firm, and on the 5th of September, 1519, took place the first real
struggle between the army of the old world, which in this case appeared
the new one, and the brave descendants of an ancient race.
The Tlaxcallans, led by the young and brave General Xicotencatl, fought
bravely, but the result was in favor of the little band of Spaniards,
after a hot contest of but four hours. The Tlaxcallans returned to
their city, and consulted their oracle. The head priest pronounced that
their enemies were children of the sun, and invincible during the day,
while their father was shining in the sky, but that by night they would
lose their strength and be like other mortals.
The next night, encouraged by this divine decree, an attack was made,
but Cortés was on his guard. The enemy, who, relying on their priests,
had imagined they were marching to certain victory, took flight, in
abject terror.
After this, the Tlaxcallans made no further resistance. Peace was
solemnly concluded, and the republic recognized as a vassal to the crown
of Castile, pledging itself to sustain Cortés in all his expeditions.
Mass was celebrated, and the conclusion of the treaty was an occasion of
great joy. This alliance was absolutely important to Cortés. The
Tlaxcallans remained to the end faithful to it; later on, without their
support, and their chief city to fall back upon, the conqueror must have
inevitably failed in his enterprise.
The Tlaxcallans consented to accept the God of the Christians, but were
unwilling to give up their old protecting divinities for fear of
appearing ungrateful to them. Cortés insisted upon the abolition of
human sacrifices, and himself made a chapel in the palace assigned to
him and erected in it the cross. The first mass celebrated there
attracted immense crowds, and many natives, especially young girls of
good birth, were voluntarily baptized.
The Conquistadores entered Tlaxcalla the 22d of September, receiving
demonstrations of the greatest friendship. Here Cortés rested awhile,
but only in order to cement his good relations, and to obtain
information how best to proceed. He himself is said to have been so ill
from fever that he could hardly keep his seat in the saddle, but this
man of iron habitually disregarded the troubles of the flesh.
His next step was to Cholula, where he was received with apparent
cordiality; but Malintzi's vigilance discovered a plot for the
destruction of the Spanish army. Cortés resolved to punish this
treachery by an example. He collected all the principal Cholultecas in a
large court, accused them of perfidy, and, without listening to
explanations, put them to general slaughter, so that "in two hours,"
according to the letter of Cortés describing the affair, "perished more
than three thousand natives." The body of the Tlaxcallans who had joined
themselves to this expedition, gathered rich booty from it, and returned
home well content with the prowess of their new ally.
Cortés then issued a general pardon. Calm returned to the streets of
Cholula, and the people of the surrounding villages poured in to do
honor to the terrible conqueror. Emissaries from Mexico, who witnessed
this bloody triumph, were not slow to describe it to their sovereign,
who became more and more frightened and despairing.
Cortés stayed two weeks in Cholula, before setting out again for Mexico.
It was thus early that he received overtures of alliance from
Ixtlilxochitl, king of a portion of Texcuco, who was in constant warfare
with his brother Cacamatzin. These young men, it will be remembered,
were nephews of Montezuma, who, in the quarrel between them had defended
the cause of Cacamatzin, so that the neglected brother detested him.
Like all the rest of Montezuma's kindred who played into the hands of
his enemy, Ixtlilxochitl had later reason to regret his hasty
recognition of the stranger, who came to seize and adopt for his own
every thing, regardless of small quarrels and petty animosities. This
early alliance with one of the neighboring chiefs was of great advantage
to Cortés though he scarcely understood then its importance.
Ixtlilxochitl sent ambassadors as far as Tlaxcalla to invite Cortés to
pass through his territory on his way to Mexico. Cacamatzin, on the
other hand, indignant at the disregard shown to the wishes of his royal
uncle by the Europeans, hastened to Texcuco, resolved to collect an army
and declare war against them, but Montezuma, with a faithlessness not to
be excused by his terror, himself set an ambuscade for his nephew, and
handed him over to Cortés, who had him loaded with chains and
imprisoned.
Through the influence of Montezuma, Cortés allowed a third son of the
late King Nezahualpilli to occupy his throne. This was Cuicuicatzin,
twelfth king at Texcuco. He was loyal to the Spaniards. It would seem
that he stayed by them even through the terrors of the _noche triste_;
and that returning to Mexico after that sad night, being considered,
with some reason, to be a spy of the Spaniards, he was killed by the
order of the successor of Montezuma.
Followed by a horde of Cholulans and Tlaxcallans, Cortés set out on his
difficult journey across the plateau, impeded by tempests and
sandstorms. The view they got of the fair valley of Mexico made them
forget all their fatigues. At their feet were noble forests; farther on
they saw cultivated fields, and in the centre of an immense fertile
basin the lakes, bordered with cities and villages; in the middle of the
panorama was the city, Mexico the Proud, resting upon its waters, and
crowned with towers and pyramidal temples. Above the capital rose, on
the hill Chapultepec, the favorite resort of the Mexican monarch,
surrounded by its great cypresses. Farther off was seen Texcuco, not
less fair than Tenochtitlan, and, round about all, the girdle of
irregular mountains which enclose and form this incomparable picture.
Cortés was seized with enthusiasm at the sight. This was his promised
land. Boldly he pressed onward to success, in spite of his feeble means.
At Ayotzinco, Cacama came forth to meet the strangers, King of Texcuco,
loyal to Montezuma, a splendid young man of twenty-five, richly dressed.
He brought presents for the invaders, but urged them even then to turn
back. Cortés replied with courtesy but firmness that nothing would deter
him from entering Mexico. "In that case," replied Cacama, "I will return
to the court"; and without any thing which could be considered an
invitation, he withdrew with his suite.
On the 8th of November the Spaniards found themselves on the great
avenue leading to the capital. Here Montezuma came to meet them with
the greatest splendor, of costume and retinue. Magnificent carpets were
spread on the ground, the monarch descended from his palanquin with a
bouquet in his hand, supported on either side by his brother and nephew.
Cortés approached him with respect and put about his neck a chain of
gold ornamented with paltry colored beads.
Montezuma, calm and dignified at this critical moment, welcomed Fernando
to his capital, where the gods had long announced his coming. Then he
entered his palanquin again, leaving the two princes to escort the
Spaniards to the palace he destined to receive them.
The adventurers followed with their eyes the royal _cortége_ as it
vanished along a wide street which they describe as lined with sumptuous
palaces. No one was looking on in the streets, and the silence of death
reigned in the city. By royal command the whole population abstained
from coming out to welcome these audacious intruders.
Cortés understood the lesson, and it is said that he then and there made
a vow, that if he should escape safely from this enterprise he would
erect a church upon that very spot.
He built in fact later the hospice and church of Jesu-Nazareno--in
compliance with this vow.
XVI.
LA NOCHE TRISTE.
The ancient palace of Axayacatl was prepared to receive the strangers,
within whose walls were ample accommodations for the leaders of the
little host.
Cortés proceeded at once to explore the capital, its paved causeways and
lagoons. He devoted himself to gaining the friendship of Montezuma, and
strove to incline him to embrace the Catholic religion and become a
subject of the king of Spain. The bewildered king listened to these
persuasions, transmitted to him through the lips of Malintzi-Marina,
with amazement and dread. He scarcely understood the import of the
words, and the doctrine of the Cross, thus suddenly presented to him,
was only a puzzle. Cortés had but little patience with his pupil. His
own situation was full of peril, in the midst of a large population who
showed no cordiality towards the Spaniards. He resolved upon the bold
measure of seizing the person of Montezuma.
Having found a pretext for a visit, Cortés waited on the monarch in his
palace. An audience was readily granted. He was graciously received by
Montezuma, who entered into light conversation through the interpreters,
and gave little presents to the Spanish general and his attendants. He
readily listened to the complaints brought by Cortés against certain
caciques who had killed some Spaniards. Cortés then coolly suggested
that it would be better for Montezuma to transfer his residence to the
palace occupied by the Spaniards, as a sign to his people of his perfect
confidence, as well as a proof to the king and master of Cortés that he
was loyal to the strangers.
Montezuma listened to this proposal with looks of profound amazement. He
became pale under his dark skin, but in a moment his face flushed with
resentment; and he utterly declined the proposal. The visit was
prolonged in discussion and persuasion, always gentle on the part of
Cortés, but one of his companions, Velasquez de Léon, to cut short the
matter, proposed seizing the king, with such fierce note and gesture,
that Montezuma, alarmed, asked Marina what had been said. She strove to
explain the exclamation in a gentle fashion, and besought him so
tenderly to yield, that the poor king finally consented to quit his own
palace and allowed himself to be led away. With their sovereign thus in
his power, Cortés, with his wonderful tact and resource, might have
succeeded in his plan of peaceably subjugating the Mexicans, but
unfortunately at that time he had to leave the capital for Vera Cruz,
where Narvaez, an emissary from the governor of Cuba, had just landed,
with directions to dispossess Cortés of his command. The affair took
only a little while, for Cortés surprised the new-comer in his own
quarters at Cempoallan, routed him entirely, and carried off to join
his own troops the forces sent against him from Cuba, a very timely
addition, especially the horses, of which he was greatly in need.
This despatched, he returned in all haste to Mexico, which he had left
in the hands of Don Pedro de Alvarado, whose unflinching bravery was
spoiled by his cruel and sanguinary temper. Entirely lacking the good
judgment of Cortés, he had in his absence involved the Spaniards in
ruin. The month of May had arrived, in which the Mexicans were
accustomed to hold a great festival in honor of Huitzilopochtli. By this
time, the supremacy of the Spaniards had become so established, through
the weakness of Montezuma that they asked the permission of Alvarado to
have it. He consented, but in the middle of the night, when they were
all assembled in the temple, unarmed and carelessly engaged in dancing
and the festive ceremonies of the occasion, Alvarado entered with fifty
Spaniards and in wholesale destruction killed them all. The population
arose, and when Cortés came back he found Alvarado and the army besieged
in their quarters and at the point of being overcome by the enraged
populace.
Cortés, in dismay, disgusted with the folly of his lieutenant, knew not
how to escape from its result. For several days the Mexicans attacked
the Spaniards in their head-quarters. Cortés made several sallies and
engaged in terrible combats with compact masses of the natives, but
always had to retreat to his quarters, with losses that daily diminished
his small army.
At last he persuaded Montezuma to ascend to the _azotea_, a flat roof of
the palace, in order there to address his subjects and exhort them to
suspend the attack. With repugnance the humbled monarch yielded, and
emerged on the parapet. Opposite to him, he could easily discern
animating the crowd who surged below, Cuitlahuatzin, his own brother,
according to custom the general in chief, and probable successor to the
throne.
Montezuma was clothed in his imperial robes; his mantle of white and
blue flowed over his shoulders, held together by a rich clasp of green
stone. Emeralds set in gold profusely ornamented his dress. The royal
diadem was on his brow, and golden sandals on his feet. He was preceded
by the golden wand of office, and surrounded by a few Aztec nobles. His
presence was instantly recognized by the people, and a sudden change
came over the scene. A death-like stillness pervaded the whole assembly,
so that the voice of the monarch was distinctly heard. He addressed the
people mildly, but when they found that he was urging mercy toward the
stranger, the calm was turned to fury, the populace redoubled its cries
and threats, and arrows and stones were aimed even at the Emperor, one
of which wounded him fatally in the head.
The unhappy prince was borne to his apartment below. He had tasted the
bitter cup of degradation. It may have been the simple effect of the
wound, or his despair, which determined him to tear off the bandages,
or, as the Aztecs think, a Spanish dagger which finally despatched him.
Not many days after this supreme insult by his people, he died on the
30th of June, 1520.
Due respect was shown to his memory; his body was committed to the
charge of his subjects, and borne by nobles, it is said, to Chapultepec,
to be laid among the tombs of his ancestors, under the sad _ahuehuetes_.
At least, this is the received account. A Mexican story says that on the
night of the departure of the Spaniards the corpse of the monarch was
dashed to pieces, by his enraged people, upon a tortoise of stone which
stood in a corner of the palace of Axayacatl. And here, say the
_indios_, wanders the melancholy spirit of Montezuma, under the gloomy
cypress, restless and unable to sleep the sleep of death, lamenting the
lost Tenochtitlan and the happy days of the Aztecs. Here comes also
Malintzi, whom, when she meets him, the sad shade accosts: "Why,
Malintzi, didst thou betray me to the stranger why didst thou plead with
me for his cause?"
And the other sighs and wrings her hands and asks herself the same vain
question.
There are other shadows, too, that frequent the moss-hung alleys of
Chapultepec, but these are creatures of a later day and unheeded by the
sorrowful phantoms of the victims of the Conquest.
As this is the story of the Mexicans, and not of the Conquest only, and
as moreover that period of Mexican history is fully elsewhere described,
we must pass slightly over the continued adventures of Cortés.
When the adventurer saw that the presence of the monarch had produced no
good effect upon his subjects, he withdrew to head-quarters, and after a
consultation with his captains, resolved to abandon the city and to cut
a passage for himself and his army, through the enraged assemblage of
his enemies. This difficult and dangerous task was effected on the night
of July 1, 1520.
It was impossible to conceal so great a movement from the Mexicans. As
soon as they became aware of it, they attacked the little army on its
march, destroyed bridges before them, while suddenly the lagoons were
covered with canoas from which showered arrows upon the Spaniards. Many
soldiers were killed or drowned. They set out loaded with booty which
they had seized in their palace, and their treasures impeded their
progress, so that every Spaniard had to choose between abandoning these
precious objects or saving his life. Quantities of gold and precious
things according to the report, were thrown into the canals.
Cortés, himself under a thousand dangers, succeeded in effecting his
escape from the city to a spot where, under a large tree, he threw
himself down to rest, and there reviewed the whole extent of his
misfortune, recognized the loss of his most faithful and bravest
companions, and faced the maimed condition of the last of his army.
Tears came to the eyes of the bold commander, and for a moment all his
vigor and energy abandoned him.
Some few of his companions, however, were left to him. Alvarado, on whom
rests the real blame in this disaster, had escaped by a miraculous leap
across a breach in the causeway which it was necessary to pass. Pressing
his long lance firmly on the bottom of the shallow lake, strewed with
wrecks of every sort, he sprang across the chasm to the amazement of the
beholders. Several others were there, and above all, Marina was safe in
the hands of some Tlaxcallans who had faithfully protected her.
This fearful escape is called universally the _Noche triste_. The tree
under which Cortés sat and wept is a venerable cypress still alive. It
has been in perfect health until a few years ago, when a fire was
lighted underneath it, by some foolish pic-nic party, which burned into
its huge trunk. Since then an iron railing has been put up to protect
it. The picturesque old Church of San Esteban stands near it. It is at
Popotla, a suburb of the modern city easily attained by tram-cars,
through crowded modern streets, where nothing is to be recognized of the
calzadas of the Aztecs. The line of houses is broken in one place on the
way to Popotla by a space shut in with a low wall and iron grating.
Here, says tradition, is the very point in the causeway where Alvarado
leaped the breach. As there is no indication nor tradition of the actual
width of the chasm, our wonder is without any limit.
Cortés did not allow himself time to repose or despair. As the dawn
broke he mounted his horse, and gathering together such stragglers as he
could find, he led them out into the country to the Cerro of
Otoncalpolco, now the Sanctuary de los Remedios. Here, weary and
discouraged as he was, he attacked with his little band the natives who
were defending the teocalli there was there, and drove them out. In this
shelter he took care of his wounds and those of his men, and united the
dispersed remnants of his army.
This sanctuary is now the abode of an image of the Holy Virgin, of which
the legend is that it was brought to Mexico by one of the soldiers of
Cortés, and that during the first stay of the Spaniards in Tenochtitlan
it was permitted to be set up in a shrine of the great teocalli among
the Aztec gods. It was carried thence on the fatal _Noche triste_, by
its possessor, when he sought shelter in this very temple with the rest
of the shattered Spanish army. And there he left it hidden under a
maguey, being too sorely wounded to carry it farther, where it was found
and made an object of veneration.
The accounts of losses in this conflict are varying. According to our
present authority, the Spaniards lost four hundred and fifty men,
twenty-six horses, and about four thousand allied Indians. On the
Mexican losses it is impossible to speculate, but the artillery and
fire-arms of their enemies must have made frightful havoc in the crowds
of people who swarmed through the streets during the night.
XVII.