Mexico, Aztec, Spanish and Republican/Volume 1/Book 1/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V.
1520.
Whilst Cortéz was beset with the difficulties recounted in our last chapter, and engaged in overcoming Narvaez on the coast, the news reached him of an insurrection in the capital, towards which he immediately turned his steps. On approaching the city, intelligence was brought that the active hostilities of the natives had been changed, for the last fortnight, into a blockade, and that the garrison had suffered dreadfully during his absence. Montezuma, too, despatched an envoy who was instructed to impress the conqueror with the Emperor's continued fidelity, and to exculpate him from all blame in the movement against Alvarado.
On the 24th June, 1520, Cortéz reached the capital. On all sides he saw the melancholy evidences of war. There were neither greeting crowds on the causeways, nor boats on the lake; bridges were broken down; the brigantines or boats he had constructed to secure a retreat over the waters of these inland seas, were destroyed; the whole population seemed to have vanished, and silence brooded over the melancholy scene.
The revolt against the lieutenant Alvarado was generally attributed to his fiery impetuosity, and to the inhuman and motiveless slaughter committed by the Spanish troops, under his authority, during the celebration of a solemn Aztec festival, called the "incensing of Huitzilopotchtli." Six hundred victims, were, on that occasion, slain by the Spaniards, in cold blood, in the neighborhood of the Great Temple; nor was a single native, engaged in the mysterious rites, left alive to tell the tale of the sudden and brutal assault.
Alvarado, it is true, pretended that his spies had satisfactorily proved the existence of a well founded conspiracy, which was designed to explode upon this occasion; but the evidence is not sufficient to justify the disgraceful and horrid deed that must forever tarnish his fame. It is far more probable that rapacity was the true cause of the onslaught, and that the reckless companion of the conqueror, who had been entrusted with brief authority during his absence, miscalculated the power of his Indian foe, and confounded the warlike Mexican of the valley with the weaker soldiers, dwelling in more emasculating climates, whom he had so rapidly confounded and overthrown in his march to the capital.
It may well be supposed that this slaughter, combined with the other causes of discontent already existing among the Aztecs, served to kindle the outraged national feeling with intense hatred of the invaders. The city rose in arms, and the Spaniards were hemmed within their defences. Montezuma himself addressed the people from the battlements, and stayed their active assault upon the works of Alvarado; but they strictly blockaded the enemy in his castle, cut off all supplies, and entrenched themselves in hastily constructed barricades thrown up around the habitation of the Spaniards, resolved to rest behind these works until despair and famine would finally and surely throw the helpless victims into their power. Here the invaders, with scant provisions and brackish water, awaited the approach of Cortéz, who received the explanations of Alvarado with manifest disgust:—"You have been false to your trust," said he, "you have done badly, indeed, and your conduct has been that of a madman!"
Yet this was not a moment to break entirely with Alvarado, whose qualities, and perhaps, even, whose conduct, rendered him popular with a large class of the Spanish adventurers. The newly recruited forces of Cortéz gave the conqueror additional strength, for he was now at the head of no less than twelve hundred and fifty Spaniards, and eight thousand auxiliaries, chiefly Tlascalans. Yet, under the untoward circumstances, the increase of his forces augmented the difficulties of their support. Montezuma hastened to greet him. But the Spaniard was in no mood to trust the Emperor; and, as his Mexican subjects made no sign of reconciliation or submission, he refused the proferred interview:—"What have I," exclaimed he, haughtily, "to do with this dog of a king who suffers us to starve before his eyes!" He would receive no apology from his countrymen who sought to exculpate the sovereign, or from the mediating nobles of the court:—"Go tell your master," was his reply, "to open the markets, or we will do it for him, at his cost!"
But the stern resistance of the natives was not intermitted. On the contrary, active preparations were made to assault the irregular pile of stone buildings which formed the Palace of Axayacatl, in which the Spaniards were lodged. The furious populace rushed through every avenue towards this edifice, and encountered with wonderful nerve and endurance, the ceaseless storm of iron hail which its stout defenders rained upon them from every quarter. Yet the onset of the Aztecs was almost too fierce to be borne much longer by the besieged, when the Spaniards resorted to the lingering authority of Montezuma to save them from annihilation. The pliant Emperor, still their prisoner, assumed his royal robes, and, with the symbol of sovereignty in his hand, ascended the central turret of the palace. Immediately, at this royal apparition, the tumult of the fight was hushed whilst the king addressed his subjects in the language of conciliation and rebuke. Yet the appeal was not satisfactory or effectual. "Base Aztec,"—shouted the chiefs,—"the white men have made you a woman, fit only to weave and spin!"—whilst a cloud of stones, spears and arrows fell upon the monarch, who sank wounded to the ground, though the bucklers of the Spaniards were promptly interposed to shield his person from violence. He was borne to his apartments below; and, bowed to the earth by the humiliation he had suffered alike from his subjects and his foes, he would neither receive comfort nor permit his wounds to be treated by those who were skilled in surgery. He reclined, in moody silence, brooding over his ancient majesty and the deep disgrace which he felt he had too long survived.
Meanwhile the war without continued to rage. The great Teocalli or Mound-Temple, already described, was situated at a short distance opposite the Spanish defences; and, from this elevated position, which commanded the invader's quarters, a body of five or six hundred Mexicans, began to throw their missiles into the Spanish garrison, whilst the natives, under the shelter of the sanctuaries, were screened from the fire of the besieged. It was necessary to dislodge this dangerous armament. An assault, under Escobar, was hastily prepared, but the hundred men who composed it, were thrice repulsed, and obliged finally to retreat with considerable loss. Cortéz had been wounded and disabled in his left hand, in the previous fight, but he bound his buckler to the crippled limb, and, at the head of three hundred chosen men, accompanied by Alvarado, Sandoval, Ordaz and others of his most gallant cavaliers, he sallied from the besieged palace. It was soon found that horses were useless in charging the Indians over the smooth and slippery pavements of the town and square, and accordingly Cortéz sent them back to his quarters; yet he managed to repulse the squadrons in the court-yard of the Teocalli, and to hold them in check by a file of arquebusiers. The singular architecture of this Mound-Temple will be recollected by the reader, and the difficulty of its ascent, by means of five stairways and four terraces, was now increased by the crowds that thronged these narrow avenues. From stair to stair, from gallery to gallery, the Spaniards fought onward and upward with resistless courage, incessantly flinging their Indian foes, by main strength, over the narrow ledges. At length they reached the level platform of the top, which was capable of containing a thousand warriors. Here, at the shrine of the Aztec war-god, was a site for the noblest contest in the empire. The area was paved with broad and level stones. Free from all impediments, it was unguarded at its edges by battlements, parapets, or, any defences which could protect the assailants from falling if they approached the sides too closely. Quarter was out of the question. The battle was hand to hand, and body to body. Combatants grappled and wrestled in deadly efforts to cast each other from the steep and sheer ledges. Indian priests ran to and fro with streaming hair and sable garments, urging their superstitious children to the contest. Men tumbled headlong over the sides of the area, and even Cortéz himself, by superior agility, alone, was saved from the grasp of two warriors who dragged him to the brink of the lofty pyramid and were about to dash him to the earth.
For three hours the battle raged until every Indian combatant was either slain on the summit or hurled to the base. Forty-five of the Spaniards were killed, and nearly all wounded. A few Aztec priests, alone, of all the Indian band, survived to behold the destruction of the sanctuaries, which had so often been desecrated by the hideous rites and offerings of their bloody religion.
For a moment the natives were panic-struck by this masterly and victorious manœuvre, whilst the Spaniards passed unmolested to their quarters, from which, at night, they again sallied to burn three hundred houses of the citizens.
Cortéz thought that these successes would naturally dismay the Mexicans, and proposed, through Mariana,—his faithful interpreter, who had continued throughout his adventures the chief reliance of the Spaniards for intercourse with the Indians,—that this conflict should cease at once, for the Aztecs must be convinced that a soldier who destroyed their gods, laid a part of their capital in ruins, and was able to inflict still more direful chastisement, was, indeed, invincible.
But the day of successful threats had passed. The force of the Aztecs was still undiminished; the bridges were destroyed; the numbers of the Spaniards were lessened; hunger and thirst were beginning to do their deadly work on the invaders; "there will be only too few of you left," said they in reply,—"to satisfy the revenge of our gods."
There was no longer time for diplomacy or delay, and, accordingly, Cortéz resolved to quit the city as soon as practicable, and prepared the means to accomplish this desirable retreat; but, on his first attempt he was unable to reach the open country through the easily defended highway of the capital or the enfilading canals and lanes. From house tops and cross streets, innumerable Indians beset his path wherever he turned. Yet it was essential for the salvation of the Spaniards that they should evacuate the city. No other resource remained, and, desperate as it was, the conqueror persevered, unflinchingly, amid the more hazardous assaults of the Mexicans, and all the internal discords of his own band, whom a common danger did not perfectly unite. He packed the treasure, gathered during the days of prosperous adventure, on his stoutest horses, and, with a portable bridge, to be thrown hastily over the canals, he departed from his stronghold on the dark and rainy evening which has become memorable in American history, as the noche triste, or "melancholy night." The Mexicans were not usually alert during the darkness, and Cortéz hoped that he might steal off unperceived in this unwatchful period. But he was mistaken in his calculations. The Aztecs had become acquainted with Spanish tactics and were eager for the arrival of the moment, by day or night, when the expected victims would fall into their hands. As soon as the Spanish band had advanced a short distance along the causeway of Tlacopan, the attack began by land and water; for the Indians assaulted them from their boats, with spears and arrows, or quitting their skiffs, grappled with the retreating soldiers in mortal agony, and rolled them from the causeway into the waters of the lake. The bridge was wedged inextricably between the sides of a dyke, whilst ammunition wagons, heavy guns, bales of rich cloths, chests of gold, artillery, and the bodies of men or horses, were piled in heaps on the highway or rolled into the water. Forty-six of the cavalry were cut off and four hundred and fifty of the Christians killed, whilst four thousand of the Indian auxiliaries perished.[1] The General's baggage, papers, and minute diary of his adventures, were swallowed in the waters. The ammunition, the artillery, and every musket were lost. Meanwhile Montezuma had perished from his wounds some days before the sortie was attempted, and his body had been delivered to his subjects with suitable honors. Alvarado,—Tonatiuh, the "child of the sun," as the natives delighted to call him, escaped during the noche triste by a miraculous leap with the aid of his lance-staff over a canal, to whose edge he had been pursued by the foe. And when Cortéz, at length, found himself with his thin and battered band, on the heights of Tacuba, west of the city, beyond the borders of the lake, it may be said, without exaggeration, that nothing was left to reassure him but his indomitable heart and the faithful Indian girl whose lips, and perhaps whose counsel, had been so useful in his service.
- ↑ These numbers are variously stated by different authorities.—See Prescott, vol. 2d, p. 377.