The water was entirely excluded from the city. On all sides there was fast and level land. But the Mexicans were not mere idle, contemptible spectators of their imperial city's ruin. Day after day squadrons sallied from the remains of the capital, and engaged the harrassed invaders. Yet the indomitable constancy of the Spaniards was not to be resisted. Cortéz and Alvarado had toiled onward towards each other, from opposite sides, till they met. The palace of Guatemozin fell and was burned. The district of Tlatelolco, in the north of the city, was reached, and the great market-place secured. One of the great Teocallis, in this quarter, was stormed, its sanctuaries burned, and the standard of Castile placed on its summit. Havoc, death, ruin, starvation, despair, hatred, were every where manifest. Every hour added to the misery of the numerous and retreating Aztecs who were pent up, as the besieging circle narrowed and narrowed by its advances. Women remained three days and nights up to their necks in water among the reeds. Hundreds died daily. Others became insane from famine and thirst.
The conqueror hoped, for several days, that this disastrous condition of the people would have induced the Emperor to come to terms; but, failing in this, he resolved upon a general assault. Before he resorted to this dreadful alternative, which his chivalrous heart taught him could result only in the slaughter of men so famished, dispirited and broken, he once more sought an interview with the Emperor. This was granted; but, at the appointed time, Guatemozin did not appear. Again the appeal was renewed, and, again, was Cortéz disappointed in the arrival of the sovereign. Nothing, then, remained for him but an assault, and, as may readily be imagined, the carnage in this combined attack of Spaniards and confederate Indians was indescribably horrible. The long endurance of the Aztecs; their prolonged resistance and cruelty to the Spaniards; the dreadful sacrifice of the captives during the entire period of the siege; the memory of the first expulsion, and the speedy hope of golden rewards, nerved the arms and hearts of these ferocious men, and led them on, in the work of revenge and conquest, until the sun sunk and night descended on the tragic scene.
On the 13th of August, 1521, the last appeal was made by Cortéz to the Emperor for a surrender of his capital. After the bloody scenes of the preceding day, and the increased misery of the last night, it was not to be imagined that even insane patriotism or savage madness could induce the sovereign to refrain from
