About Mexico - Past and Present/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII.
MEXICO SHALL BE CONQUERED
THE end of the western causeway, where it joined the mainland, was still held by the Spaniards. Over this, in the darkness and the rain, the fugitives pushed On to the city of Tlacopan, where Cortez found them huddled together in the great square awaiting his directions.
"To the open country!" he called out. "Hasten, or the Indians will be upon us again!"
To get away from the terrible house-roofs was the general's first aim. But who knew the way out of the city? Now in the van, and now in the rear, the horsemen kept the Indians at bay until the foot-soldiers had gained possession of a large temple which stood on a hilltop outside Tlacopan.[1] After some fighting they drove out those who held the building, and, safe for the present, kindled a blazing fire, dried their wet clothes and dressed each other's wounds.
All that night and until dark the next day the enemy gave them no rest. At midnight, guided by a friendly Indian, the Spaniards stole out, and, leaving fires burning, in order to deceive the natives, they took up their line of march for Tlascala. But a sentinel gave the alarm, and the Aztecs came rushing out like a swarm of angry bees all along the road, pelting them with stones and taunting them with their defeat. What with their wounds, the horses overloaded with disabled men, the entire want of artillery and the ceaseless fighting, this first day's march was not over nine miles. Their road led north, around several small lakes, and then east through a mountainous country which gave the Indians every advantage. Huge stones were rolled down from the heights on the fleeing host. Sharpshooters hidden behind rocks and trees let fly their arrows as the Spaniards dragged themselves along or strayed into the fields for an ear of corn wherewith to appease their hunger. Famine might have been added to the other perils of the way but for the wild cherry trees, then in fruit, which everywhere grew in abundance. So many of these hungry men were killed that Cortez was obliged to punish stragglers in order to save the remnant of his army from those of the relentless enemy who hovered around them like birds of prey. Two nights and a day were spent in camp, to rest the wornout men and horses. During this time crutches were made for those who were too lame or too weak to walk, so that in case of attack the horses would be free for duty. Cortez marched with his men, cheering them on with his own unfailing courage and that faith in his own mission which he never seemed to lose. Most of those with him were veterans who had come with him from Cuba. The recruits he gained from Narvaez, being in the rear in the flight from Mexico, had borne the brunt of the battle, and most of them fell on that "sorrowful night." The poor Tlascalans, too, were nearly all gone, but those who still lived pushed bravely on with their companions in arms, seeming to forget that it was for the sake of the white men that half the houses in Tlascala would be in mourning.
In one of the skirmishes by the way four or five Spaniards were badly wounded; among them was Cortez himself. The death of a horse at this time caused great lamentation. The general says, "We derived some consolation from the flesh of this animal, which we ate, not leaving even his skin, so great were our necessities," In this sorry plight they traveled about fifty miles to reach a point only eighteen miles distant, as a bird flies, from the City of Mexico.
About a week after the retreat the troops stood on a mountain-ridge from whose height they looked eastward over the vast plain of Otumba. It was the place called by the early settlers of Mexico Teot-huacan—"the habitation of the gods." Here were built some of the largest and oldest pyramids on this continent, and here the Aztecs, coming from their distant home a tribe of wandering savages, found one of the most flourishing Toltec cities. At the time when the Spaniards stood on these mountains the ruins of this nameless city were strewn over the plain, but a pyramid almost as large as the great pyramid of Egypt was still standing, crowned with a temple dedicated to the sun. As the army came to the summit of this range they saw what well might strike terror to their hearts. Spread before them as far as the eye could reach was a mighty host arrayed for battle. The white tunics of the common soldiers made the plain look like a field of snow. Gay banners held aloft—each the ensign of some clan or tribe—showed that the multitude had been gathered from many parts of the country. They were there to dispute the passage of the Spaniards to Tlascala.
"We thought it certain that our last hour had come," said Cortez, "so great was the force of the enemy, and so feeble our own." But after a few inspiriting words from their leader the little band pressed forward as it were into the very jaws of death. The enemy closed about them, attacking them with such violence that the two armies mingled, the Tlascalans being so scattered among their red-skinned brethren that they were entirely lost to sight. The Spaniards defended themselves in little groups of four or five; the mail-clad horsemen dashed about in the crowd in every direction, trampling the Indians under foot and throwing them into confusion, "they being so numerous that they were in each other's way and could neither fight nor fly." The battle lasted nearly all day, and probably would have ended in the total defeat of the Spaniards had not the Indian commander fallen. A great panic followed. "After this," says Cortez, "we were somewhat relieved, although still suffering from hunger, until we reached a small house on the plain, in which, with its surrounding fields, we lodged that night." From this point could be seen the mountains of Tlascala—"a welcome sight which produced not a little joy in our hearts, since we knew it was the land where we were going." Yet a sad, uneasy thought must have forced itself upon the mind of the general when he recollected how few of the brave Tlascalans who a few months before marched with him so willingly to Cholula were now returning to their homes. How could he be certain of a welcome in such circumstances?
It was scarcely daybreak when the army set out for the desired refuge. The enemy still lingered about in such strength and with such shouts and jeers, and something harder and sharper than these, that the Spaniards, although considering themselves victors, were actually hooted out of the country. Entering Tlascala, the inhabitants brought provisions to them, but wanted to be well paid in gold. The invaders were no longer conquerors who could demand tribute or gods who must be obeyed, but a defeated, fleeing army. They stopped three days at this place to rest, and while there had a visit from some of the leading chiefs of the tribe. Never did noble red men better deserve that title—so often given to them in scorn—than did these Tlascalan braves. They opened their homes to the strangers, carrying the sick and the lame in litters to a place of rest and dressing their wounds with skill and kindness. The old chief Maxixca took Cortez to his own home and gave him a bedstead to sleep on, with clean cotton sheets and coverlets—a luxury he had not enjoyed for many a night. He lay here for days tossing with a burning fever, the result of fatigue and exposure after his wound. Many of the soldiers died here, and were buried in the campground with a rude cross to mark their graves as those of Christian men.
At length the Indians began to mutter over the burden of feeding an army of strangers. Many of the soldiers became homesick and urged Cortez to hasten back to Villa Rica to look after their brave companions there, who perhaps might not be able to hold out in case of a siege. This Cortez determined not to do. He was even then, after all his disasters, forming plans to go back to Mexico and recover the prize which had once been in his grasp. He dared not trust his Spaniards so near the ocean-path to Cuba. While Cortez was debating this subject with his men a party of Aztec chiefs arrived in Tlascala bringing presents, and offering peace to their old enemies if they would break friendship with the white men and help to destroy them all while disabled and in their power. Some of the younger chiefs would have accepted these proposals from the Aztecs, but old Maxixca rejected them. His scorn and indignation rose to such a pitch that he forgot the decorum which always prevails in an Indian council, and silenced one of the hot-headed young braves by turning him out of doors.
This generous sympathy of his allies was a great encouragement to Cortez. Shamed by the loyalty of their Indian friends, almost all the Spanish soldiers yielded to his persuasions to return to Mexico. Their first step was to open the highway between that city and the garrison at Villa Rica by an attack on the Tepeacas, a tribe who held two passes through the mountains, and who had murdered a number of Spanish travelers during the recent troubles. Their country bordered on Mexico and was tributary to it, and their Aztec neighbors were even then busy among them stirring up a war with the white men. In the battles with these people Cortez took hundreds of captives and vast spoil. Men, women and children were branded with a hot iron as slaves and divided among his own men and his allies, the first of many thousands of human beings who were afterward thus degraded by the Spaniards.
It was now very evident that all the Indians of Anahuac were watching the struggle between the Aztecs and the Spaniards, ready to take the side of the victor. The crushing defeat of the Tepeacas decided many of them; crowds began to flock to the standard of Cortez. The star of this bold adventurer was now in the ascendant. As an umpire among many warring tribes he settled their quarrels to his own advantage, and in a short time built up a great kingdom for Spain between Mexico and the Gulf.
The Aztecs, meanwhile, were busy at home as well as abroad. They had selected as "chief-of-men" Guatemozin, an Aztec warrior of the old school ready to die rather than to yield an inch to the invaders of his country. So soon as the failure of the embassy to the Tlascalans was known the Aztecs began to garrison their frontier, fortify their island-city, mend their broken dykes, replace their bridges and rebuild their temples and houses, whose roofs were so important in street-fighting. They had learned much by experience. New instruments of warfare were contrived, in order to defeat the horsemen. Spanish swords lost in those bloody battles on the causeways were fastened on long poles, the better to reach and to cut the horses, which, with the cannon, had made the Spaniards almost invincible.
With the road to Villa Rica clear behind him, Cortez now bent all his energies to the reconquest of Mexico. He resolved to build thirteen boats in such a way that they could be taken apart and carried in pieces over the mountains, to be used in the lake in the siege of the doomed city. Martin Lopez w r as put in charge of a large force of Indian carpenters, and the woods were soon ringing with the strokes of Spanish axes.
Meanwhile, Cortez sent to Cuba for all else he needed to carry on the war, but before the men and stores arrived he had twice been reinforced by the crews of vessels which had been sent from that island on the same errand which brought Narvaez. In both cases Cortez had the satisfaction of enlisting under his banner men who had crossed the sea to carry him in chains to Spain. Another large company, which came to plant a hostile colony, were shipwrecked and obliged to put in at Villa Rica for repairs. They were soon persuaded by generous treatment to join Cortez in his expedition against Mexico. Thus by patience and kind words he gained one hundred and fifty men, twenty horses and an abundance of arms and ammunition—all from his avowed enemies.
While Cortez was at Tepeaca, the scene of his recent victories, a messenger came to the camp from Tlascala with sad tidings. Maxixca, the old chief who had been so true a friend to the white men, lay dying of small-pox—a disease of which the Indians had never heard until the Europeans came—which was then raging fearfully throughout the country. To some of his people this affliction was a fresh reason for hatred to the Spaniards, but Maxixca saw in them the children of Feathered Serpent. He believed that they had come in fulfillment of ancient prophecy to claim their old possessions and to lead him and his people to the one true God. In his last hours he sent to Cortez for some one to come and teach him how to approach this great Being in whose presence he soon might stand. The priest Olmedo came in hot haste, and found the dying chief with a crucifix before him, to which his eyes were turned his old idols, which his fathers worshiped, had all been given up, and he had taken this instead. It was all he had learned of Jesus. In an age when the Church so perverted the truths of the gospel, though not so much given to the worship of the Virgin as afterward, it is good to know that the teaching of Olmedo was plain enough to lead the anxious soul of Maxixca to his true Saviour, so that he died confessing his faith in "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world." Four other Tlascalan chiefs were baptized with him. Busy with his preparations, Cortez did not come to Tlascala until on his way to Mexico. His army had a royal welcome from their old allies, and more than ever won their hearts when they saw that every Spanish soldier wore mourning for Maxixca. Here they were joined by a vast horde of Tlascalans more eager than ever to fight the Aztecs, and thousands were left behind to bring the boats when Martin Lopez and his men had finished them.
Once more the Spanish army climbed the mountain-walls of Mexico. There was one path so steep and rocky that Cortez thought the Aztecs would not expect him to take it, and by this he resolved to go and surprise them; but the next day, as the troops descended toward the valley from the bald summit where they had encamped for the night, they saw that trees had been freshly cut down, blocking all the way. With great difficulty these were cleared from the road, and, coming to an open space beyond the forests, Cortez halted until his men came up, when, with what seems to have been true devotion, he bade them all join him in thanksgivings to God for bringing them once more in safety to that spot. Before them spread the beautiful Valley of Mexico, with its fair cities, its glittering lakes and its hamlets embosomed in trees. Through the clear air rose columns of smoke from a score of signal-fires. Tezcuco, at their feet, had given the alarm, and from point to point the tidings flew, until every village around the lake knew that the dreaded white men were at their gates. The Spaniards saw that they had need to hasten to Tezcuco before the Indians could have time to rally.
It was from this great city that Cortez intended to attack Mexico. Not being able to reach it before night, the army halted at a village about six miles distant, whose inhabitants fled at their approach. The next morning, December 31, 1521, the army entered the almost deserted place and took possession of a great lonely dwelling large enough, we are told, to have held all the Spaniards present had they been doubled in numbers. As no one was seen in the streets, some of the soldiers mounted to the top of a tower which afforded a good lookout, and saw the people fleeing in every direction, some in canoes on the lake, and some on foot toward the mountains.
While Cortez was fortifying Tezcuco he sought in every way to make friends of all the tribes within his reach. Most of them professed sorrow for the part they had taken in the late outbreak. One tribe posted watchmen on the mountains overlooking Mexico, to be ready to make an alliance with the Spanish leader so soon as signal-smokes should tell that he had come. While these people were in camp the messengers of another tribe with whom they had long been at war came to Cortez on the same errand. Hearing that they were unfriendly to each other, Cortez told them that he could have no greater satisfaction than would be afforded by his making peace between these old enemies. His object was to unite the tribes of the valley, in order that they might help him to conquer Mexico. After two days in the Spanish camp, the visitors went home in high good-humor with each other and the white men, and determined to put down the Aztecs.
Among the tribes who had old scores to settle with Mexico were the people of Chalco; their alliance with the Spaniards had roused the Aztecs, who now threatened to punish them. Their messengers came in haste to ask for help, showing on a large white cloth a map on which
Martin Lopez now had his boats all ready; eight thousand Tlascalans had been detailed to bring them in pieces on their shoulders a distance of fifty-four miles. The way was rough and steep, leading over the mountainous back-bone of the continent. This procession of porters was six miles long. Besides these were thousands of armed warriors as a guard, and two thousand men loaded with provision for the multitude. When the long procession came in sight of Tezcuco, Cortez went out to meet it. A salute was fired, the drums beat, the bugles sounded and the cheers of thousands rent the air. For six hours this vast fierce multitude streamed into Tezcuco. Cortez might well tremble over the responsibility of leading an army which were not only savages, but cannibals with a thirst for Aztec blood which was no mere figure of speech. Before the war was over he found that it was so much harder to hold back his merciless allies than to let them carry on a battle in their ordinary way that he set them loose to ravage the country like fiends in human shape.
Every day during these weeks of preparation the army increased in numbers. The Tezcucans must have come back to their beautiful city in crowds, for, cold as they were at first, they rallied under a new chief, a grandson of Hungry Fox, and came to Cortez fifty thousand strong. His first blow was struck at the aqueduct by which the City of Mexico was supplied with water. The water was brought across the lake from a spring at Chapultepec. After a desperate conflict, the Spaniards succeeded in cutting the pipes and tearing down the noble structure on which they were laid. Still further to harass the Mexicans and to provide their own camp with food, the soldiers went out and reaped all the grain-fields within reach. Two divisions of the army approached Mexico by land, while others, commanded by Cortez, came in his brigantines.
From a lofty tower in the city of Tezcuco the Spanish leader had watched for the signal-smokes which should tell the dwellers in the valley that the siege had begun. The Aztec canoes had come out in swarms from every town and village around the lake. Iztapalapa had just been burned, and its homeless people were all in their boats. Getting in his brigantine, Cortez bore down upon this fleet, being carried along by a strong wind that was sweeping over the water at the time, and without a shot from the cannon on their decks hundreds of the smaller crafts were crushed like eggshells and the rest chased back into the canals which interlaced the City of Mexico.
An encampment on the southern causeway leading to the city was the end of the first day's work. The Indians made an attack that night, but were quickly repulsed by the brigantines. The next morning neither land nor water could be seen for the multitude that poured out of the city, "all howling as though the world had come to an end," said Cortez.
It being seen that the canoes had come from the side unprotected by the brigantines, the Indian allies were set to work to widen every sluiceway through the dykes, in order to allow these large boats to pass. Up to that time most of the lake had been fenced off, but in a few days the water-patrol was able to go all around the island-city and assist each division of the army.
As the Aztecs had broken up the bridges over nearly every canal in the city, the streets were full of ugly gaps which could not be crossed by horse or foot in the daily assaults. The friendly Indians now filled these with bricks and rubbish, and strict orders were given that no advance should be made except over a solid road. But, as the Aztecs were busy every night undoing what was done by day, the work was repeated again and again.
Alvarado was the first to forget the warning. Cortez saw his command one day flying back in hot haste and the enemy, like dogs in full cry, pursuing them. In front was a bridgeless canal into which the whole party, horse and foot, were driven. In the attempt to save them Cortez was dragged off his horse, and would have been carried away in a canoe had not several of his men sacrificed their own lives to save the life of their general. Forty-five Spaniards and a thousand Indians were lost in this battle. As the survivors retreated to the great square to defend themselves against the yelling throng which pressed upon them from every side, faint odors of burning incense of a kind only used in sacrifices came floating down from a high tower near by. Looking up, the Spaniards saw what chilled the life-blood in their hearts. Aztec priests were dragging several victims to sacrifice, and, from their white skins, they knew them to be their own fellow-countrymen. They saw the wretched captives made to dance before the idol.
This victory was celebrated by the Mexicans with wild enthusiasm. Drums were beaten and horns were blown. Messengers were sent to every old ally, carrying the heads of Spanish men and horses, with a call for help to drive out the invaders by a grand rally of all the tribes. Whatever fear the Spaniards felt at this crisis they kept to themselves; their savage allies, who could so soon be changed into savage enemies, knew nothing of it. Some friendly tribes, being threatened with an attack from the Aztecs, sent to ask help, and it was freely given, though the Spaniards had to be divided to do it.
It was now forty-five days since the siege had begun. Much of the city was already laid waste. Montezuma's house, with its aviaries, museum, magnificent summerhouses and lofty corridors, was a mass of smouldering ruins. The old Spanish quarters, near by, were also torn down, and with the bricks from these and other buildings the Tlascalans had reared barracks for the Spaniards and themselves on the southern causeway.
At a council of war to which the allied chiefs were summoned it was resolved to begin on the outskirts of Mexico and level everything to the dust, filling up the canals as the advance was made. The Aztecs saw this work begin, and seemed to know that the worst had come. They tried to discourage the Tlascalans, who pulled down their houses, crying out to them that they would have their trouble for nothing, for, whichever side conquered, they would have to rebuild the city. But the direful work went on. Even Cortez regretted the destruction of this beautiful city. Seven-eighths of it were now in ruins. The people had been living on roots, the bark of trees and rats, without good water and surrounded by dead bodies. Famine and pestilence added their ravages to the terrible devastation. Women and children wan and haggard with disease and hunger wandered about the ruins. The allies were charged to let the wretches alone, but the Indians knew no pity, and, although for three days after they reached the heart of the City of Mexico no regular fighting was done, a merciless carnage went on. The people and many of the chiefs would have yielded, but Guatemozin and his adherents seemed bent on making the difference between Montezuma and themselves as striking as possible; Guatemozin would die rather than surrender. A captured Aztec chief sent back to him to treat for peace was killed, and the message was returned, with a shower of arrows, that "death was all they wanted now."
The truce was concluded, and hostilities began again. The story of the dreadful days which followed can never be fully told—how these miserable, starving people were hunted out of their hiding-places to be shot down in the streets or driven into the water. One of the stratagems used was to collect into one great basin all the canoes that could be found, so that when the houses were attacked the helpless inmates had no means of escape across the canals, but were stabbed and drowned. At last one of the brigantines on duty in the lake—a large basin in the city—broke through a fleet of canoes which had gathered there, giving chase to one in which was evidently some important personage. The Spaniards were about to fire upon the party, when some one signaled to them that the "chief-of-men" was there. The master of the brigantines bore down upon them instantly, and Guatemozin, with his companions, was soon led into the presence of Cortez, who was on one of the housetops near the market-place. "I made him sit down," said the conqueror, "and treated him with confidence; but the young man put his hand on the poignard I wore at my side and entreated me to kill him, because, since he had done all his duty to himself and his people, he had no other desire but death."
Thus, on the 13th of August, 1521, ended one of the most cruel sieges recorded in history—the first experience which the heathen of this New World had with the so-called Christians of Europe.
- ↑ Now called "Montezuma's Hill." Upon it is a church dedicated to Our Lady de Los Remedios.