The effects of this battle upon the Spaniards were disastrous in the
extreme. The assault, as has been mentioned, and as was anticipated, was
made upon all the causeways at once; and, on all, successfully repelled,
though an ambuscade was only attempted upon the dike of Iztapalapan. It
seemed as if the Mexicans, thinned as their numbers had been, by so many
conflicts, and now the remainder absolutely perishing under want and
pestilence, had collected all their energies for one final blow. It was
first successful in the quarter attacked by the Captain-General, in
consequence of his surprising infatuation; and victory soon after
followed in the others. The Spaniards fled, so completely broken and so
utterly defeated, that the priests, in the wild hope of completing their
destruction at once, even drew the sacred horn from the tabernacle of
Mexitli, and added its dreadful uproar to the thunder of the great
tymbal. This was always regarded by the Mexicans as the voice of the god
himself, and was never sounded without filling them with a delirium of
fury, utterly inconceivable. It was not more maddening to the infidels
than frightful to the Spaniards; who remembered the horrors of the Noche
Triste, augmented, if not altogether caused by its unearthly roar. The
Spaniards were driven back to their strong and defensible stations at
the gates; the dikes were lost; and had not famine now fought for them,
they must have given up the siege in despair. Nearly an hundred
Spaniards, and many thousand Indian allies, were killed; the fleets of
canoes and piraguas were destroyed, and several brigantines wholly
ruined.
But the miseries of the besiegers were not confined to the events of the
day. Night opened to them a scene of grief and horror. The whole mass of
the pyramid, always a striking object, was suddenly illuminated by a
myriad of flambeaux, so that it blazed like a mountain of solid fire.
The night was clear, and the peculiarly rarified and transparent
atmosphere of Mexico rendering objects distinct at a much greater
distance than in other lands, the Spaniards, looking from the towers at
the gates, could plainly perceive some of their late fellow-soldiers,
stripped naked and their hands bound behind them, driven up the stairs
from platform to platform, by the blows and other indignities of their
cruel captors. On the summit of the pyramid, they were unbound, their
heads adorned with plumes, and great waving penachos placed in their
hands, with which they were forced to dance round the ever-burning
censers of the gods, in the midst of shouting pagans, until dragged away
by the priests and immolated, at a signal blasted from the sacred horn,
upon the stone of sacrifice. The station of Alvarado on the dike of
Tacuba, was nearer than either of the others; and his men, while they
wept and prayed over a spectacle so appalling, even fancied they could
distinguish the figures and faces of particular individuals, and hear
their cries to heaven. Many were the wretches who had yielded themselves
alive into the hands of the foe; and for ten nights in succession, the
blazing temple echoed to their groans, and their garrisoned friends were
compelled to be the witnesses of their torments.
But this triumph was the last of the pagans. All supplies of corn from
the lake-sides were cut off, and they were known to be famishing; and
besides, as if heaven were willing to assist even the arms of rapacity,
to subdue a race, all whose institutions were more or less infected by
the spirit of blood that brutalized their religion, the rainy season was
brought to a close preternaturally early, and they were left without
water. The Spaniards recovered their spirits, and collecting again vast
bands of confederates, recommenced the siege, advancing with prudence,
and destroying every thing as they advanced, and not only regaining all
they had lost, but even effecting, despite all resistance, a secure
lodgment upon the island, from their several points of attack. The
Mexicans still fought; but it was with bodies emaciated and enfeebled,
and with hearts subdued by despair. The three divisions of besiegers met
upon the great square, blew up the Huitzompan, and all the temples
within the circuit of the Wall of Serpents, which they fortified and
preserved; and then, still demolishing houses as they advanced, they
pushed on until they reached the great market-place of Tlatelolco; and
thus hemmed in upon the narrow peninsula the unfortunate king of Mexico,
and the few shattered remnants of his army.
Before this crisis had yet arrived, there occurred another incident, in
which, as in all others since his return from the South Sea, the virtues
of Juan Lerma were made the instruments of still further misfortune. He
beheld Magdalena but once, after the adventure of the garden; and she
was then raving with delirium, in which she did not know even him. The
fate of Zelahualla was still wrapt in obscurity; for such had been the
suddenness of the attack in the garden, that none knew of her fate, and
Magdalena was incapable of uttering any rational word, to remove the
mountain of anxiety from his breast. His scheme to effect the
deliverance of the princess had doubtless thrown her into the power of
the Spaniards; and the thought of such a captive in such hands, preyed
upon him with a bitterness that exceeded death. He fought no more, and
indeed he was urged no longer by the king, who was himself reduced to
such desperation, that he thought no further of stratagems, but merely
of blind and sullen resistance.
On the third day after the battle, he was summoned by Techeechee to
attend the king in public; and without questioning for what purpose, he
gloomily obeyed, taking with him the Spanish sword with which he had
been provided, on the day of his attempted escape.
It was midday: no sound of contention came to his ears, for the
besiegers were yet lying in their quarters on the dikes, healing their
wounds and lamenting their friends; but the quiet of the garden was
broken by the howling of the beasts, and the shrill streams of birds of
prey,--of such at least as had not already been slaughtered, to appease
the hunger of the wretches, who yet fought for their expiring empire.
One circumstance, had Juan noticed it, might have convinced him of the
dreadful extent and intensity of the suffering, of which he had been
before apprized. The trees of the garden had begun to be robbed of their
leaves, but not by summer heat or autumnal drought;--the tender shrubs
were stripped of their bark;--the smaller plants had been rooted up, and
even the grass, in some places, torn from the earth, and even the earth
itself upturned, in the search after edible roots.--All that could be
gnawed by the teeth of man had vanished, or did soon after vanish, from
the garden. When the Spaniards walked afterwards through their conquest,
not a green leaf, as they have recorded, was found in all the city.
He passed through the broken wall, now only defended by rude palisades,
strengthened by an abatis of withered shrubs and brambles, and passing
the moat, over the ruins of the prostrate wall, found himself on the
market-square of Tlatelolco, of which the Spaniards gave such surprising
accounts, when they beheld it filled with the merchants and riches of
the empire, before the death of Montezuma. It was of very great extent,
and contained, at the eastern boundary, a pyramid, on which was the
temple of one of the lesser divinities. On the west was a platform, or
rather stage, faced and flagged with stone, and devoted to theatrical
exhibitions, which, however primitive and barbarous, were yet a chief
feature among the amusements of a Mexican festival.
Almost in the centre of the square, and yet so nigh to the garden wall
that it could be overlooked by the nearest turrets of the palace, was
another platform, perhaps four feet in height, and circular, upon which
lay the famous stone _Temalacatl_, devoted to the purpose of the
gladiatorial sacrifice. It now lies in the Plaza Mayor of the modern
city, near the walls, and within the enclosure of the great Cathedral,
and is one of the few monuments which the conquerors have left of the
savage institutions of the Aztec empire. It is a circular block of
porphyry, nine or ten feet in diameter, and is sculptured over with the
effigies of warriors. The privilege of dying upon this stone was awarded
only to captives of the most extraordinary prowess; and as such were
never taken alive, unless when conquered by accident, the exhibition of
such a sacrifice was as rare as it was agreeable to the fierce tastes of
the Mexicans. It was essentially gladiatorial, and it offered a prospect
even of life and liberty to the valiant prisoner. A sword and buckler
were put into his hands, and he was tied by one leg to the stone; yet,
if he succeeded in slaying or defeating six chosen Mexican warriors, he
was released and sent back in safety to his own country. The last victim
of the Temalacatl was the famous Tlascalan chief, Tlahuicotl, the
Orlando of Anahuac, captured by Montezuma not many years before the
advent of the Spaniards, who, fighting only to die, (for he refused to
accept life, even as the meed of his own heroism,) and fighting till he
_did_ die, slew no less than eight different opponents, and disabled
twenty others, before his great spirit sank under his exertions. If the
gladiator fell, before he had accomplished his task, he was dragged to
the neighbouring temple, and there sacrificed, while yet living. The
last victim, destined to close the list of those to whom Mexico did
honour, was a Spaniard.
A vast multitude of pagans surrounded the platform, except on that side
which looked to the temple. Here stood the priests, few in number, yet
prepared, at the moment of the victim's fall, to clutch upon him, and
bear him to the altar, a space being left for them, as much out of
reverence for their sacred character, as to preserve their pathway
entirely unobstructed. The side that looked to the palace was also but
little encumbered; for here the king of Mexico sat upon a scaffold,
attended by his chief nobles.
The grim looks of expectation, with which the assembled multitude
surveyed the platform, were heightened in ferocity by the privations
that had pinched and hollowed their visages. They looked like winter
wolves, gaunt with famine; and one would have thought their appetites
were whetting for a repast on the flesh of the victim. There was indeed
something horrid in their appearance, as well as in the cause which had
assembled them together. It was plain that they waited impatiently for
the coming of the prisoner. As they rolled their eyes over the square,
they caught sight of Juan, conspicuous by his lofty stature, though he
now drooped his head with gloom, and hailed his appearance with such
shouts as proved what a change had been made in their feelings, by his
presence, in the battle of the ambuscade. The imputations of Azcamatzin
were ended, for Azcamatzin perished an hour after uttering them, under a
shot from the crossbow of the hunchback: they remembered nothing now,
but that the Christian had touched the body of Malintzin, and was struck
down while he had him in his hands, and that he was the brother of the
king.
It was these acclamations which roused him out of his sullen mood, so
that he could exert his mind and imagine the object for which he had
been summoned. But no sooner did he perceive the priests near the
Temalacatl, than he was seized with horror, and disregarding the command
of Guatimozin, who beckoned to him to ascend the platform to his side,
he turned to fly.
"Is not my brother a Mexican, and among the sons of the king?" said the
infidel; and then added with a look of bitter meaning, "My brother shall
see the revenge of the daughter of Montezuma!"
Struck by these words, yet incapable of fathoming their signification,
Juan looked up to the young monarch, and would even have ascended the
scaffold, had not the sudden appearance of the captive engaged his whole
attention. A wild and frantic cry burst from the mob, and looking round,
he beheld a body of ten or twelve priests, with their black robes, and
long plaited, rope-like hair, leading the prisoner towards the platform.
His arms were bound behind him, and his only garment was a coarse cloth
wrapped round the loins.
Juan's heart sickened; he would have sunk to the earth, or buried his
head in his tilmaltli, to avoid looking upon the spectacle of a
Christian and countryman, thus brought forth to be slaughtered. But the
fiery spirit displayed by the victim, as soon as he was lifted upon the
mound and set upon his feet, drew another shout from the admiring
infidels, which caused him to steal one look at the scene; and that look
left him without the power of withdrawing his eyes. The captive, as soon
as he was on the mound, leaped, of his own accord, upon the stone, as if
to testify not only his knowledge of the purpose for which he was
brought there, but his willingness to engage in the combat. He then
turned his face towards the king, and, at that moment,
Juan Lerma lifting his eyes, beheld the only man he had ever learned to
hate--It was Don Francisco de Guzman.
Noble, compassionate, and truly unvindictive, as was Lerma's spirit, he
did not make this discovery without a thrill of fierce exultation. There
is a touch of the wild beast in the hearts of us all; and so long as man
is capable of anger, he will, at some moment, and for some brief space
of time, yield to thoughts and wishes, that he himself must, a moment
after, esteem diabolic. Religion and moral culture make us the masters
of our malign propensities; but man is naturally a vengeful animal.
It was but the weakness of a moment with Juan Lerma; perhaps, too, it
was caused by the thrill of joy at the proof thus rendered, that Guzman,
at least, exercised no control over the fate of the princess of Mexico;
and if he did not instantly commiserate the condition of an enemy justly
abhorred, but now so fallen, so wretched, and about to expiate his evil
deeds by a punishment so fearfully retributive, he was able to banish
all unworthy elation from his mind, and look on with feelings more
becoming a man and Christian.
He could not indeed but admire the fearless intrepidity, or rather
audacity, with which Guzman (more oppressed by a sense of humiliation,
at being made a spectacle among a crew so despised and abhorred, than by
any other feeling,) looked around him upon the pagans, and extended his
foot to the ligature, with which it was to be secured to the stone.
Whatever were his faults, it could not be denied, that Don Francisco was
a man of unflinching courage, which was indeed a constitutional trait.
His presence on the stone of battle indicated that he had been captured
after a heroic resistance. His resolution was, in this case, kept up by
a knowledge of the nature of the ordeal through which he was to pass,
and by full confidence in his ability to win all the privileges it
conferred upon him. He had some little acquaintance with the Mexican
tongue, and was by no means ignorant of the more remarkable institutions
of the country. A victory over six awkward and half-starved barbarians,
was an exploit not to be despaired of by a well-trained cavalier, even
when denied any advantage of weapons, and defensive armour. Yet it was a
curious circumstance, that he, who had not often kept faith himself,
when his interest called upon him to break it, should rest with such
perfect reliance upon the willingness of the Mexicans to liberate him,
in the event of his prevailing over their champions. But he knew, that
never but _once_ had a tribe of all the broad regions of Anahuac broken
its pledged faith to a successful gladiator; and that tribe was, for
that reason, ever after held infamous. It was the tribe of Huexotzinco;
and Cortes himself placed the circumstance on record.
As soon as his foot was properly secured, his arms were unbound, and a
noble, who stood upon the scaffold in the character of a herald,
addressed him in the following official terms:
"This is the law of Mexico, and let the people hear: 'The prisoner who
is brave, the gods honour. If he kill six strong men upon the stone
Temalacatl, he shall be set free.' This is the law."
"This is the law, then," repeated Guzman, in imperfect Mexican, turning
his eyes upon Guatimozin, as if he disdained to hold converse with any
meaner infidel: "Is it a law that will be remembered, when the prisoner
is a Spaniard?"
"He who is a prisoner, has no name and no country," replied the prince.
"He is neither Tlascalan nor Castilian, but a man who kills or dies."
"And if I prevail over six of thy soldiers," again cried Guzman, as the
attendants strapped upon one arm a light buckler of basket-work, and
gave him also a short macana, "dost thou warrant me by thy gods, that I
shall be sent back to Don Hernan?"
"Let the prisoner fight," said the king sternly: "Are the warriors of
Mexico blades of grass, that they should be blown down by a man's
breath, before the sword has struck them?"
"Thou shalt see," replied Guzman, with a grim smile. "What are six
warriors to a man fighting for liberty? Give me a Spanish sword,--a
weapon of iron,--and let my adversaries be doubled in number."
The boldness of this demand greatly excited the admiration of the
warlike spectators, who rewarded it with cheers. But they checked their
tumult to hear the words of the king.
"The white man talks with the lips of a boaster," he said. "Had he not a
Spanish sword in the king's garden, among the women? How is this? He is
a prisoner!"
"Ask thy warriors,--it was not broken off in my hand! How else should
they have taken me?" replied Guzman, to the words of scorn; and then
added, in Spanish, as if to himself, "So much for striking the accursed
hound! I would he and his master were broiling in purgatory; for they
have ever brought me bad luck."
Juan Lerma heard not these words, but he remembered the broken blade in
Befo's body, and again his heart hardened against his foemen. But
matters were now approaching to a crisis. The monarch, disdaining to
hold further discourse with the prisoner, waved his hand, and a warrior,
darting from the ground at the foot of the scaffold, leaped with a
single bound upon the platform, and uttered the yell of battle, which
was instantly re-echoed by the shouts of the multitude. He was a tall
and powerful savage, though meager of frame, of great activity, as was
proved by his ready leap, and of a spirit fully corresponding. His
equipments were but little superior to those of the captive; his
battle-axe was somewhat longer, his buckler a little broader, and he had
some slight defence for his head, in a cap of alligator-skin, that
crowned his matted hair.
No sound of trump and tymbal gave the signal for beginning the fight, as
in a Christian tourney. The yell of the infidel, as he sprang upon the
mound, and brandished his battle-axe, was all that was allowed or
required, to put the prisoner on his guard; and Don Francisco seemed to
understand enough of the nature of the ceremony, to look for no further
warning.
The great superiority of the infidel consisted in his being entirely at
liberty, able to begin the attack by leaping upon the stone at any point
he chose, and to continue it thereon, by changing his position as often
as he thought fit; while the prisoner, secured by a thong not above
eighteen inches in length, to the centre of it, enjoyed no such
facilities of motion. He might turn, indeed, and as rapidly as he
pleased, but always with the danger, if he forgot himself for a moment,
of tripping himself, and falling; in which case, his death was certain,
for no forbearance was practised in the event of such an accident.
The infidel began the combat with the same agility he had displayed in
leaping up to the platform. He uttered his yell, brandished his axe, and
making a half circuit round the stone, suddenly darted upon it, and
aimed a blow at Guzman. He was met by the Spaniard with an address and
effect, that showed he had not overrated his skill. Rather meeting than
avoiding the blow, he struck up, with his bucklered hand, not the
macana, but the arm of the assailant, seemingly calculating that the
shock of the rebuff would tumble him from the stone. It did more: it
caused the Mexican to fling up his arms, in the instinctive effort to
preserve his equilibrium. The next instant, Guzman drove his glassy axe
deep into his uncovered side, and spurning him violently with the foot
which was at liberty, the Mexican fell backwards upon the platform,
writhing in the agonies of death. The whole combat was scarce the work
of a minute. Those who drew in their breath as the Mexican sprang to the
assault, had not taken a second inspiration, before their countryman was
discomfited and dying.
The infidels set up a scream, as much of approbation as surprise. The
spirit of the Roman amphitheatre was felt around the Temalacatl of
Mexico; and plaudits were bestowed upon a victor, when pity was denied
to the slain.
The vanquished and writhing combatant was dragged from the mound, and
his place immediately occupied by a second, who leaped up with the same
alacrity, and attacked with similar violence.
"Fool that thou art!" muttered Guzman, with scorn and lofty
self-reliance, "were there twenty such grasshoppers at thy back, yet
should it be but boy's play to despatch thee."
He caught the blow of the savage on his buckler, but greatly to his
injury; for the sharp blades of the iztli severed it nearly in twain,
and besides diminishing its already insufficient defence, inflicted a
severe wound upon his arm. But it was the only blow struck by the
barbarian. Infuriated by the wound, Guzman smote him over the head with
his weapon, and with such rapidly continued blows as entirely confounded
the Mexican, so that he made scarce any use of his shield. The first
stroke tore the cayman-scales from his hair, and the next clove through
his skull.
Guzman's victory was as complete as before, but he found that several of
the separate blades, or teeth of obsidian, that edged his weapon, were
broken off by the blows. He beheld this with alarm, for having held up
the axe, to show its dilapidated condition, and demand another, he found
himself answered only by the appearance of a third antagonist.
"Dogs and jugglers that ye are!" he cried, indignantly: "ye would cheat
me then to death, by leaving me weaponless! St. Dominic, knaves! but I
will sort your wit with a better wisdom.--Now, what a spectacle might I
not make for my brother Christians on the dikes! Thou art playing quits
with me, Cortes!--Hah, dog! art thou so ready?"
It was Guzman's determination, after killing the third assailant, which
event he still looked forward to with unabated confidence, to possess
himself of his weapon, which, though secured in the usual manner by a
thong, he doubted not he could easily rend from his arm.
But his antagonist was by no means so easily mastered as the others.
Taking caution from the fate of his predecessors, he changed the mode of
attack; and though he rushed upon the block with as much resolution as
either, he betrayed no such ambition to come to close quarters. On the
contrary, taking advantage of the breadth of the Temalacatl, he confined
himself to the very edge, now facing the Spaniard, as if about to make
his spring, now darting behind him, as if to assault him in the rear,
and, all the time, vexing Guzman's ears with the most terrific screams.
Then, perceiving the Spaniard's wariness, he began to run around the
stone with all his speed, flourishing his axe, as if to take advantage
of the least opening offered by the weariness or dizziness of his foe.
Guzman at once perceived the danger to which he was reduced by a system
of attack so difficult to be guarded against. It was almost impossible,
tied as he was, to preserve his face always against the pagan; twice or
thrice he stumbled over the rope, and already his brain began to reel
with the rapidity of his gyrations. At each stumble, the Mexican struck
at him with his axe, and one blow had taken effect, though not
dangerously, upon his shoulder. This incensed the Spaniard almost to
madness, and he voluntarily exposed himself to another wound, in order
to bring his opponent within his reach. Thus, as the infidel was still
continuing to run round the stone, he flung himself round the other way
very suddenly, yet not so quickly as wholly to escape the rapid attacks
of his assailant. The macana inflicted another and deeper wound in his
back, while his own broken weapon struck the savage on the hip. At the
same moment he seized him by the throat, and employing a strength
greatly superior to the Indian's, threw him under his feet, and crushed
him with hand and knee, while despatching him with blows over the face
and head. He then grasped at the macana; but before he could wrest it
from the grasp of his dying foe, the Indian was plucked from under him
by the attendant priests.