 Book 4, Chapter 7 of the History of the Conquest of Mexico. This descends from the table-land, negotiates with Narvaeus, prepares to assault him, quarters of Narvaeus attacked by night, Narvaeus defeated. Traversing the southern causeway by which they had entered the capital, the little party were soon on their march across the beautiful valley. They climbed the mountain-screen, which nature had so ineffectually drawn around it, passed between the huge volcanoes that, like faithless watchdogs on their posts, have long since been buried in slumber, threaded the intricate defiles where they had before experienced such bleak and tempestuous weather, and emerging on the other side, descended the eastern slope which opens on the wide expanse of the fruitful plain of Cholula. They heeded little of what they saw on their rapid march, nor whether it was cold or hot. The anxiety of their minds made them indifferent to outward annoyances, and they had fortunately none to encounter from the natives, for the name of Spanard was in itself a charm, a better guard than Helm or Buckler to the bearer. In Cholula Cortes had the inexpressible satisfaction of meeting Velasquez de Leon, with the hundred and twenty soldiers entrusted to his command for the formation of a colony. That faithful officer had been some time at Cholula, waiting for the general's approach. Had he failed, the enterprise of Cortes must have failed also. The idea of resistance with his own handful of followers would have been chimerical. As it was, his little band was now troubled, and acquired a confidence in proportion. Cordially embracing their companions in arms, now knit together more closely than ever by the sense of a great and common danger, the combined troops traversed with quick steps the streets of the sacred city, where many a dark pile of ruins told of their disastrous visit on the preceding autumn. They kept the high road to Cholula, and at not many leagues' distance from that capital fell in with Father Olmeido and his companions on their return from the camp of Narvaes. The ecclesiastic bore a letter from that commander, in which he summoned Cortes and his followers to submit to his authority as Captain General of the country, menacing them with condyne punishment in case of refusal or delay. Olmeido gave many curious particulars of the State of the Enemy's camp. Narvaes he described as puffed up by authority and negligent of precautions against a foe whom he held in contempt. He was surrounded by a number of pompous conceited officers who ministered to his vanity, and whose braggart tones the good father, who had an eye for the ridiculous, imitated to the no small diversion of Cortes and the soldiers. Many of the troops, he said, showed no great partiality for their commander, and were strongly disciplined to erupture with their countrymen, a state of feeling much promoted by the accounts they had received of Cortes by his own arguments and promises, and by the liberal distribution of the gold with which he had been provided. In addition to these matters, Cortes gathered much important intelligence respecting the position of the Enemy's force and his general plan of operations. At Plascala the Spaniards were received with a frank and friendly hospitality. It is not said whether any of the Plascalan allies accompanied them from Mexico. If they did they went no further than their native city. Cortes requested a reinforcement of six hundred fresh troops to attend him on his present expedition. It was readily granted, but before the Army had proceeded many miles on its route, the Indian auxiliaries fell off one after another and returned to their city. They had no personal feeling of animosity to gratify in the present instance as in a war against Mexico. It may be true that, although intrepid in a contest with the bravest of the Indian races, they had too fatal experience of the prowess of the white men to care to measure swords with them again. At any rate they deserted in such numbers that Cortes dismissed the remainder at once, in vain, good-humoredly, he had rather part with them then than in the hour of trial. The troops soon entered on that wild district in the neighborhood of Perote, strewed with a wreckage of volcanic matter which formed so singular a contrast to the general character of beauty with which the scenery is stamped. It was not long before their eyes were gladdened by the approach of Sandoval and about sixty soldiers from the garrison of Vera Cruz, including several deserters from the enemy. It was a most important reinforcement, not more on account of the numbers of the men than of the character of the commander. He had been compelled to fetch a circuit in order to avoid falling in with the enemy and had forced his way through thick forests and wild mountain passes, till he had fortunately, without accident, reached the appointed place of Rendezvous and stationed himself once more under the banner of his chieftain. At the same place also Cortes was met by Tobillos, a Spaniard whom he had sent to procure the lances from Chinatla. They were perfectly well made after the pattern which had been given, double-headed spears tipped with copper and of great length. Cortes now took a review of his army. He so paltry a force may be called an army, and found their numbers were two hundred and sixty-six, only five of whom were mounted. A few muskets and crossbows were sprinkled among them. In defensive armor they were sadly deficient. They were for the most part cased in the quilted doublet of the country, thickly stuffed with cotton, the Esquipil recommended by its superior lightness, but which though competent to turn the arrow of the Indian was ineffectual against a musket ball. Most of this cotton mail was exceedingly out of repair, giving evidence in its unsightly gaps of much rude service and hard blows. Few in this emergency but would have given almost any price the best of the gold chains which they wore in Todry display over their poor abealments for a steel morian or queer-ass to take the place of their own hacked and battered armor. The troops now resumed their march across the table-end until, reaching the eastern slope, their labors were lightened as they descended toward the broad plains of the Tierra Caliente, spread out like a boundless ocean of verter below them. At some fifteen leagues' distance from Sempoala, when Arvaeus, as has been noticed, had established his quarters, they were met by another embassy from that commander. It consisted of the priest Guevara, Andres de Duero, and two or three others. Duero, the fast friend of Cortez, had been the person most instrumental originally in obtaining him his commission from Velasquez. They now greeted each other with a warm embrace, and it was not till after much preliminary conversation on private matters that the secretary disclosed the object of his visit. He bore a letter from Arvaeus, couched in terms somewhat different from the preceding. That officer required indeed the acknowledgment of his paramount authority in the land, but offered his vessels to transport all who desired it from the country together with their treasures and effects without molestation or inquiry. The more liberal tenor of these terms was doubtless to be ascribed to the influence of Duero. The secretary strongly urged Cortez to comply with them, as the most favorable that could be obtained, and as the only alternative affording him a chance of safety in his desperate condition. For however valiant your men may be, how can they expect, he asked, to face a force so much superior in numbers and equipment as that of their antagonists. But Cortez had set his fortunes on the cast, and he was not the man to shrink from it. If Narvaeus bears a royal commission, he returned, I will readily submit to him. But he has produced none. He is a deputy of my rival Velasquez. For myself I am a servant of the king. I have conquered the country for him. And for him I and my brave followers will defend it to the last drop of our blood. If we fall, it will be glory enough to have perished in the discharge of our duty. His friend might have been somewhat puzzled to comprehend how the authority of Cortez rested on a different ground than that of Narvaeus. And if they both held of the same superior, the governor of Cuba, why that dignitary should not be empowered to supersede his own officer in case of dissatisfaction and appoint a substitute. But Cortez here reaped the full benefit of that legal fiction, if it may be so termed, by which his commission, resigned to the self-constituted municipality of Veracruz, was again derived through that body from the crown. The device, indeed, was too palpable to impose on any but those who chose to be blinded. Duero had arranged with his friend in Cuba when he took command of the expedition that he himself was to have a liberal share of the profits. It is said that Cortez confirmed this arrangement at the present juncture and made it clearly for the others' interest that he should prevail in the struggle with Narvaeus. This was an important point, considering the position of the secretary. From this authentic source the general derived much information respecting the designs of Narvaeus, which had escaped the knowledge of Olmeido. On the departure of the envoys Cortez entrusted them with a letter for his rival, a counterpart of that which he had received from him. This show of negotiation intimated a desire on his part to postpone, if not avoid, hostilities which might the better put Narvaeus off his guard. In the letter he summoned that commander and his followers to present themselves before him without delay, and to acknowledge his authority as the representative of his sovereign. He should otherwise be compelled to proceed against them as rebels to the crown. This missive, the vaunting tone of which was intended quite as much for his troops as the enemy, Cortez dismissed the envoys. They returned to disseminate among their comrades their admiration of the general and of his unbounded liberality, of which he took care they should experience full measure, and they dilated on the riches of his adherents who, over their wretched attire, displayed with ostentatious profusion jewels, ornaments of gold, collars, and massive chains winding several times around their necks and bodies, the rich spoil of the treasury of Montezuma. The army now took its way across the level plains of the Tierra Caliente. Coming upon an open reach of meadow of some extent they were at length stopped by a river or rather stream called Rio de Canoas, the river of Canoes, of no great volume ordinarily but swollen at this time by excessive rains, it had rained hard that day. The river was about a league distant from the camp of Narvaes. Before seeking out a practical ford by which to cross it, Cortez allowed his men to recruit their exhausted strength by stretching themselves on the ground. The shades of evening had gathered round and the rising moon, wading through dark masses of cloud, shone with a doubtful and interrupted light. It was evident that the storm had not yet spent its fury. Cortez did not regret this. He had made up his mind to an assault that very night, and in the darkness and uproar of the tempest his movements would be most effectually concealed. Upon disclosing his design he addressed his men in one of those stirring, soldierly harangues to which he had recourse in emergencies of great moment, as if to sound the depths of their hearts and where any faltered to reanimate them with his own heroic spirit. He briefly recapitulated the great events of the campaign, the dangers they had surmounted, the victories they had achieved over the most appalling odds, the glorious spoil they had won. But of this they were now to be defrauded, not by men holding a legal warrant from the crown, but by adventurers with no better title than that of superior force. They had established a claim on the gratitude of their country and their sovereign. This claim was now to be dishonored, their very services were converted into crimes, and their names branded with infamy as those of traitors. At the time had at last come for vengeance God would not desert the soldier of the cross, those whom he had carried victorious through greater dangers would not be left to fail now, and if they should fail better to die like brave men on the field of battle then with fame and fortune cast away to perish anonymously like slaves on the gibbet. At his last point he urged upon his hearers, well knowing there was not one among them so dull as not to be touched by it. They responded with hearty acclamations, and Velasquez de Leon and de Lugo, in the name of the rest, assured their commander, if they failed it should be his fault not theirs, they would follow wherever he led. The general was fully satisfied with the temper of his soldiers, as he felt that his difficulty lay not in awakening their enthusiasm, but in giving it a right direction. One thing is remarkable. He made no allusion to the defection which he knew existed in the enemy's camp. He would have his soldiers in this last pinch rely on nothing but themselves. He announced his purpose to attack the enemy that very night, when he should be buried in slumber, and the friendly darkness might throw a veil over their own movements and conceal the poverty of their numbers. To this the troops jaded though they were by incessant marching and half-famished joyfully assented. In their situation suspense was the worst of evils. He next distributed the commands among his captains. In Gonzalo de Sandoval he assigned the important office of taking Narraes. He was commanded, as Agua Silmayor, to seize the person of that officer as a rebel to his sovereign and, if he made resistance, to kill him on the spot. He was provided with sixty picked men to aid him in this difficult task, supported by several of the ablest captains, among whom were two of the alvarados, the Avila and Ordas. The largest division of the force was placed under Cristofal de Olid, or according to some authorities Pizado, one of that family so renowned in the subsequent conquest of Peru. He was to get possession of the artillery and to cover the assault of Sandoval by keeping those of the enemy at bay who would interfere with it. Narraes reserved only a body of twenty men for himself to act on any point that occasion might require. The watchword was Espíritu Santo, it being the evening of Whitsunday, having made these arrangements he prepared to cross the river. During the interval thus occupied by Cortes, Narraes had remained at Sampoala, passing his days in idle and frivolous amusement. On this he was at length roused, after the return of Duero, by the remonstrances of the Olcaseque of the city. Why are you so heedless, exclaimed the latter, do you think Malinche is so? Depend on it, he knows your situation exactly, and when you least dream of it he will be upon you. Alarmed at these suggestions and those of his friends, Narraes at length put himself at the head of his troops, and on the very day on which Cortes arrived at the river of canoes, sallied out to meet him. But when he had reached this barrier, Narraes saw no sign of an enemy. The rain which fell in torrent soon drenched the soldiers to the skin. Made somewhat effeminate by their long and luxurious residence at Sampoala, they murmured at their uncomfortable situation. Of what use was it to remain there fighting with the elements? There was no sign of an enemy, and little reason to apprehend his approach in such tempestuous weather. It would be wiser to return to Sampoala, and in the morning they should be all fresh for action, should Cortes make his appearance. Narraes took counsel of these advisors, or rather of his own inclinations. With retracing his steps he provided against surprise by stationing a couple of sentinels at no great distance from the river, to give notice of the approach of Cortes. He also detached a body of forty horse in another direction, by which he thought it not improbable the enemy might advance on Sampoala. Having taken these precautions he fell back again before night on his own quarters. He there occupied the principal Teokali. It consisted of a stone building on the usual pyramidal basis, and the ascent was by a flight of steep steps on one of the faces of the pyramid. In the edifice or sanctuary above he stationed himself with a strong party of archibousseers and crossbowmen. Two other Teokalis in the same area were garrisoned by large detachments of infantry. His artillery consisting of seventeen or eighteen small guns he posted in the area below, and protected it by the remainder of his cavalry. When he had thus distributed his forces he returned to his own quarters, and soon after to repose, with as much indifference as if his rival had been on the other side of the Atlantic, instead of a neighboring stream. That stream was now converted by the deluge of waters into a furious torrent. It was with difficulty that a practicable ford could be found. The slippery stones rolling beneath the feet gave way at every step. The difficulty of the passage was much increased by the darkness and driving tempest. Still with their long pikes the Spaniards contrived to make good their footing, at least all but two who were swept down by the fury of the current. When they had reached the opposite side they had new impediments to encounter in traversing a road never good, now made doubly difficult by the deep mire and the tangled brushwood with which it was overrun. Here they met with a cross which had been raised by them on their former march into the interior. They hailed it as a good omen, and Cortes, kneeling before the blessed sign, confessed his sins and declared his great object to be the triumph of the holy Catholic faith. The army followed his example, and having made a general confession, received absolution from Father Olmeitho, who invoked the blessing of heaven on the warriors who had consecrated their swords to the glory of the cross. Then rising up and embracing one another, as companions in the good cause, they found themselves wonderfully invigorated and refreshed. The incident is curious and well illustrates the character of the time in which war, religion, and rapine were so intimately blended together. Joining the road was a little compass, and Cortes and the few who had horses dismounting fastened the animals to the trees, where they might find some shelter from the storm. They deposited there to their baggage, and such superfluous articles as would encumber their movement. The general then gave them a few last words of advice. Everything, he said, depends on obedience. Let no man from desire of distinguishing himself break his ranks. And silence, dispatch, and above all obedience to your officers, the success of our enterprise depends. Silently and stealthily they held on their way, without beat of drum or sound of trumpet, when they suddenly came on the two sentinels who had been stationed by Narvaes to give notice of their approach. This had been so noiseless that the vedettes were both of them surprised on their posts, and one only with difficulty affected his escape. The other was brought before Cortes. Every effort was made to draw from him some account of the present position of Narvaes. But the man remained obstinately silent, and though threatened with the gibbet and having a noose actually drawn round his neck, his spartan heroism was not be vanquished. Unfortunately no change had taken place in the arrangements of Narvaes since the intelligence previously derived from Dweril. The other sentinel, who had escaped, carried the news of the enemy's approach to the camp, but his report was not credited by the lazy soldiers whose slumbers he had disturbed. He had been deceived by his fears, they said, and mistaken the noise of the storm and the waving of the bushes for the enemy. And his men were far enough on the other side of the river, which they would be slowed across in such a night. Narvaes himself shared in the same blind infatuation and the discredited sentinels slunk a bash to his own quarters, vainly menacing them with the consequences of their incredulity. Cortes not doubting that the sentinel's report must alarm the enemy's camp, quickened his pace. As he drew near, he discerned a light in one of the lofty towers of the city. It is the quarters of Narvaes, he explained to Sandoval, and that light must be your beacon. On entering the suburbs the Spaniards were surprised to find no one stirring and no symptom of alarm. Not a sound was to be heard except the measured tread of their own footsteps, half drowned in the howling of the tempest. While they could not move so stealthily as altogether to elude notice, as they defiled through the streets of this populous city, the tidings were quickly conveyed to the enemy's quarters, where in an instant all was bustle and confusion. The trumpets sounded to arms, the dragoons sprang to their steeds, the artillerymen to their guns. Narvaes hastily buckled on his armor, called his men around him, and summoned those in the neighboring Teokalis to join him in the area. He gave his orders with coolness for, however wanting imprudence, he was not deficient in presence of mind or courage. All this was the work of a few minutes, but in those minutes the Spaniards had reached the avenue leading to the camp. Cortes ordered his men to keep close to the walls of the buildings that the cannon-shot might have free range. No sooner had they presented themselves before the enclosure than the artillery of Narvaes opened a general fire. Fortunately, the pieces were pointed so high that most of the balls passed over their heads, and three men only were struck down. They did not give the enemy time to reload. Cortes shouting the watchword of the night, Espiritu Santo, Espiritu Santo, upon them, in a moment Olid and his division rushed on the artillerymen whom they pierced or knocked down with their pikes and got possession of their guns. Another division engaged the cavalry and made a diversion in favor of Sandoval, who with his gallant little band sprang up the great stairway of the temple. They were received with a shower of missiles, arrows, and musket-balls, which in the hurried aim and the darkness of the night did little mischief. The next minute the assailants were on the platform engaged hand to hand with their foes. Narvaes fought bravely in the midst, encouraging his followers. His standard-bearer fell by his side, run through the body. He himself received several wounds, for his short sword was not match for the long pikes of the assailants. At length he received a blow from a spear which struck out his left eye. Santo Maria explained the unhappy man. I am slain! The cry was instantly taken up by the followers of Cortez who shouted, Victory! Disabled and half-mad with agony from his wound, Narvaes was withdrawn by his men into the sanctuary. The assailants endeavored to force an entrance, but it was stoutly defended. At length a soldier getting possession of a torch or firebrand flung it on the thatched roof and in a few moments the combustible materials of which it was composed were in a blaze. Those within were driven out by the suffocating heat and smoke. A soldier named Farfan grappled with the wounded commander and easily brought him to the ground, when he was speedily dragged down the steps and secured with fetters. His followers, seeing the fate of their chief, made no further resistance. During this time Cortez and the troops of Olid had been engaged with the cavalry and had discomfited them after some ineffectual attempts on the part of the latter to break through the dense array of pikes by which several of their number were unhorsed and some of them slain. The general then prepared to assault the other tale-collies, first summoning the garrisons to surrender. As they refused he brought up the heavy guns to bear on them, thus turning the artillery against its own masters. He accompanied this menacing movement with offers of the most liberal import, an amnesty of the past and a full participation in all the advantages of the conquest. One of the garrisons was under the command of Salvatierra, the same officer who talked of cutting off the ears of Cortez. From the moment he had learned the fate of his own general, the hero was seized with a violent fit of illness which disabled him from further action. The garrison waited only for one discharge of the ordnance when they accepted the terms of capitulation. Cortez, it is said, received on this occasion a support from an unexpected auxiliary. The air was filled with coccullos, a species of large beetle which emits an intense, phosphoric light from its body, strong enough to enable one to read by it. These wandering fires seen in the darkness of the night were converted by the excited imaginations of the besieged into an army with matchlocks. Such is the report of an eyewitness, but the facility with which the enemy surrendered may quite as probably be referred to the cowardice of the commander and the disaffection of the soldiers, not unwilling to come under the banners of Cortez. The body of cavalry posted it will be remembered by Narváez on one of the roads to Sempoala to intercept his rival, having learned what had been passing were not long in tendering their submission. Each of the soldiers in the Concord Army was required, in token of his obedience, to deposit his arms in the hands of the Aguaciles and to take the oaths to Cortez as Chief Justice and Captain General of the Colony. The number of the slain is variously reported. It seems probable that no more than twelve perished on the side of the vanquished and of the victors half that number. The small amount may be explained by the short duration of the action and the random aim of the missiles in the darkness. The number of the wounded was much more considerable. The field was now completely won. A few brief hours had suffice to change the condition of Cortez from that of a wandering outlaw at the head of a handful of needy adventurers, a rebel with a price upon his head, to that of an independent chief with a force at his disposal strong enough not only to secure his present conquests, but to open a career for still loftier ambition. While the air rung with the acclamations of the soldiery, the victorious general, assuming a department corresponding with his change of fortune, took his seat in a chair of state, and with rich embroidered mantle thrown over his shoulders, received one by one the officers and soldiers as they came to tender their congratulations. The privates were graciously permitted to kiss his hand. The officers he noticed with words of compliment or courtesy, and when Duero, Bermuda's the treasurer, and some others of the vanquished party his old friends presented themselves, he cordially embraced them. Narvaes, Salvatierra, and two or three of the hostile leaders were led before him in chains. It was a moment of deep humiliation for the former commander, in which the anguish of the body, however keen, must have been forgotten in that of the spirit. You have great reasons, Senor Cortez, said the discomfited warrior, to thank fortune for having given you the day so easily and put me in your power. I have much to be thankful for, replied the general, but for my victory over you I esteem it as one of the least of my achievements since my coming into the country. He then ordered the wounds of the prisoners to be cared for and sent them under a strong guard to vera cruz. Notwithstanding the proud humility of his reply, Cortez could scarcely have failed to regard his victory over Narvaes as one of the most brilliant achievements in his career. With a few scores of followers badly clothed, the worst fed, wasted by forced marches, under every personal disadvantage, deficient in weapons and military stores, he had attacked in their own quarters, routed and captured the entire force of the enemy, thrice his superior in numbers, well provided with cavalry and artillery, admirably equipped, and complete in all the munitions of war. The amount of troops engaged on either side was indeed inconsiderable, but the proportions are not affected by this, and the relative strength of the parties made a result so decisive one of the most remarkable events in the annals of war. End of Book 4, Chapter 7, Recording by Sue Anderson Book 4, Chapter 8 of The History of the Conquest of Mexico This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For further information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. History of the Conquest of Mexico by William H. Prescott Book 4, Chapter 8, Discontent of the Troops Insurrection in the Capital Return of Cortez General Signs of Hostility Massacre by Alvarado The Tempest that had raged so wildly during the night passed away with the morning, which rose bright and unclouded on the field of battle. As the light advanced, it revealed more strikingly the disparity of the two forces so lately opposed to each other. Those of Narvaith could not conceal their shagrin, and murmurs of displeasure became audible as they contrasted their own superior numbers and perfect appointments with the way-worn visages and rude attire of their handful of enemies. It was with some satisfaction, therefore, that the general beheld his dusky allies from Chinatla, two thousand in number, arrive upon the field. They were a fine athletic set of men, and as they advanced in a sort of promiscuous order, so to speak, with their gay banners of featherwork, and their lances tipped with idsley and copper glistering in the morning sun, they had something of an air of military discipline. They came too late for the action, indeed, but Cortez was not sorry to exhibit to his new followers the extent of his resources in the country. As he had now no occasion for his Indian allies, after a courteous reception and a liberal recompense, he dismissed them to their homes. He then used his utmost endeavours to allay the discontent of the troops. He addressed them in his most soft and insinuating tones, and was by no means frugal of his promises. He suited the action to the word. There were few of them, but had lost their accoutrements or their baggage or horses taken and appropriated by the victors. This last article was in great request among the latter, and many a soldier, weary with the long marches hitherto made on foot, had provided himself, as he imagined, with a much more comfortable, as well as creditable, conveyance for the rest of the campaign. The general now commanded everything to be restored. They were embarked in the same cause, he said, and should share with one another equally. He went still further and distributed among the soldiers of Narvaith a quantity of gold and other precious commodities gathered from the neighbouring tribes or found in his rival's quarters. These proceedings, however politic in reference to his new followers, gave great disgust to his old. Our commander, they cried, has forsaken his friends for his foes. We stood by him in his hour of distress, and are rewarded with blows and wounds while the spoil goes to our enemies. The indignant soldiery commissioned the priest Olmeythot and Alonso their Avila to lay their complaints before Cortes. The ambassadors stated them without reserve, comparing their commander's conduct to the ungrateful proceeding of Alexander, who, when he gained a victory, usually gave away more to his enemies than to the troops who enabled him to beat them. Cortes was greatly perplexed. Victorious or defeated, his path seemed equally beset with difficulties. He endeavoured to soothe their irritation by pleading the necessity of the case. Our new comrades, he said, are formidable from their numbers, so much so that we are even now much more in their power than they are in ours. Our only security is to make them not merely confederates but friends. On any cause of disgust we shall have the whole battle to fight over again, and, if they are united, under a much greater disadvantage than before. I have considered your interests, he added, as much as my own. All that I have is yours. But why should there be any ground for discontent when the whole country, with its riches, is before us? And our augmented strength must henceforth secure the undisturbed control of it. But Cortes did not rely wholly on argument for the restoration of tranquillity. He knew this to be incompatible with in action, and he made arrangements to divide his forces at once, and to employ them on distant services. He selected a detachment of two hundred men, under Diego de Ordaz, whom he ordered to form the settlement before meditated on the Coatlacoalco. A like number was sent with Velázquez de León to secure the province of Panuco, some three degrees to the north, on the Mexican Gulf. Twenty, in each detachment, were drafted from his own veterans. Two hundred men he dispatched to Veracruz, with orders to have the rigging, iron, and everything portable on board of the fleet of Narvaith brought on shore, and the vessels completely dismantled. He appointed a person named Cavallero, superintendent of the Marine, with instructions that if any ships hereafter should enter the port, they should be dismantled in like manner, and their officers imprisoned on shore. But while he was thus occupied with new schemes of discovery and conquest, he received such astounding intelligence from Mexico as compelled him to concentrate all his faculties and his forces on that one point. The city was in a state of insurrection. No sooner had the struggle with his rival been decided than Cortes dispatched a courier with the tidings to the capital. In less than a fortnight, the same messenger returned with letters from Alvarado, conveying the alarming information that the Mexicans were in arms, and had vigorously assaulted the Spaniards in their own quarters. The enemy, he added, had burnt the brigantines, by which Cortes had secured the means of retreat in case of the destruction of the bridges. They had attempted to force the defences, and had succeeded in partially undermining them, and they had overwhelmed the garrison with a tempest of missiles, which had killed several and wounded a great number. The letter concluded with beseeching his commander to hasten to their relief if he would save them, or keep his hold on the capital. These tidings were a heavy blow to the general, the heavier it seemed, coming, as they did, in the hour of triumph, when he had thought to have all his enemies at his feet. There was no room for hesitation. To lose their footing in the capital, the noblest city in the western world, would be to lose the country itself, which looked up to it as its head. He opened the matter fully to his soldiers, calling on all who would save their countrymen to follow him. All declared their readiness to go, showing an alacrity, says Diyath, which some would have been slow to manifest had they foreseen the future. Cortes now made preparations for instant departure. He countermanded the orders previously given to Velazquez and Ordath, and directed them to join him with their forces at Tlaxcala. He recalled the troops from Veracruz, leaving only a hundred men in garrison there, under command of one Rodrigo Rangre, for he could not spare the services of Sandoval at this crisis. He left his sick and wounded at Sempoala under the charge of a small detachment, directing that they should follow as soon as they were in marching order. Having completed these arrangements, he set out from Sempoala, well supplied with provisions by its hospitable Kassike, who attended him some leagues on his way. The Totonac chief seems to have had an amiable facility of accommodating himself to the powers that were in the ascendant. Nothing worthy of notice occurred during the first part of the march. The troops everywhere met with a friendly reception from the peasantry, who readily supplied their wants. Some time before reaching Tlaxcala, the route lay through a country thinly settled, and the army experienced considerable suffering from want of food, and still more from that of water. Their distress increased to an alarming degree, as in the hurry of their march they travelled with the meridian sun beating fiercely on their heads. Several faltered by the way and throwing themselves down by the roadside seemed incapable of further effort and almost indifferent to life. In this extremity Cortes sent forward a small detachment of horse to procure provisions in Tlaxcala, and speedily followed in person. On arriving he found abundant supplies already prepared by the hospitable natives. They were sent back to the troops. The stragglers were collected one by one, refreshments were administered, and the army restored in strength and spirits entered the republican capital. Here they gathered little additional news respecting the events in Mexico, which a popular rumour attributed to the secret encouragement and machinations of Montezuma. Cortes was commodiously lodged in the quarters of Machisca, one of the four chiefs of the republic. They readily furnished him with two thousand troops. There was no want of heartiness when the war was with their ancient enemy, the Aztec. The Spanish commander, on reviewing his forces after the junction with his two captains, found that they amounted to about a thousand foot and one hundred horse besides the Tlaxcalan levies. In the infantry were nearly a hundred arquebuses with as many crossbowmen, and the part of the army brought over by Narvaeth was admirably equipped. It was inferior, however, to his own veterans in what is better than any outward appointments, military training and familiarity with the peculiar service in which they were engaged. Leaving these friendly quarters, the Spaniards took a more northerly route, as more direct than that by which they had before penetrated into the valley. It was the road to Tethculco. It still compelled them to climb the same bold range of the Cordilleras, which attains its greatest elevation in the two mighty volcanoes at whose base they had before travelled. As they descended into the populous plains, their reception by the natives was very different from that which they had experienced on the preceding visit. There were no groups of curious peasantry to be seen gazing at them as they passed, and offering their simple hospitality. The supplies they asked were not refused, but granted with an ungracious air that showed the blessing of their giver did not accompany them. This air of reserve became still more marked as the army entered the suburbs of the ancient capital of the Acollois. No one came forth to greet them, and the population seemed to have dwindled away, so many of them were withdrawn to the neighbouring scene of hostilities at Mexico. Their cold reception was a sensible mortification to the veterans of Cortes, who, judging from the past, had boasted to their new comrades of the sensation their presence would excite among the natives. The casiquette of the place, who, as it may be remembered, had been created through the influence of Cortes, was himself absent. The general drew an ill omen from all these circumstances, which even raised an uncomfortable apprehension in his mind respecting the fate of the garrison in Mexico. But his doubts were soon dispelled by the arrival of a messenger in a canoe from that city, whence he had escaped through the remissness of the enemy, or perhaps with their connivance. He brought dispatches from Alvarado, informing his commander that the Mexicans had for the last fortnight desisted from active hostilities, and converted their operations into a blockade. The garrison had suffered greatly, but Alvarado expressed his conviction that the siege would be raised and tranquillity restored on the approach of his countrymen. Montezuma sent a messenger also to the same effect. At the same time he exculpated himself from any part in the late hostilities, which he said had not only been conducted without his privity, but contrary to his inclination and efforts. The Spanish general, having halted long enough to refresh his wearied troops, took up his march along the southern margin of the lake, which led him over the same causeway by which he had before entered the capital. It was the day consecrated to St John the Baptist, the 24th of June, 1520. But how different was the scene from that presented on his former entrance? No crowds now lined the roads, no boats swarmed on the lake, filled with admiring spectators. A single pierogue might now and then be seen in the distance, like a spy stealthily watching their movements, and darting away the moment it had attracted notice. A death-like stillness brooded over the scene, a stillness that spoke louder to the heart than the acclamations of multitudes. Cortes rode on moodyly at the head of his battalions, finding abundant food for meditation doubtless in this change of circumstances. As if to dispel these gloomy reflections he ordered his trumpets to sound, and their clear shrill notes, born across the waters, told the inhabitants of the beleaguered fortress, that their friends were at hand. They were answered by a joyous peel of artillery, which seemed to give a momentary exhilaration to the troops, as they quickened their pace, traversed the great drawbridges, and once more found themselves within the walls of the imperial city. The appearance of things here was not such as to allay their apprehensions. In some places they beheld the smaller bridges removed, intimating too plainly, now that their brigantines were destroyed, how easy it would be to cut off their retreat. The town seemed even more deserted than Teth Kukor. Its once busy and crowded population had mysteriously vanished. And as the Spaniards defiled through the empty streets, the tramp of their horses feet upon the pavement was answered by dull and melancholy echoes that fell heavily on their hearts. With sudden feelings they reached the great gates of the palace of Asha-Yakatl. The gates were thrown open, and Cortez and his veterans rushing in were cordially embraced by their companions in arms, while both parties soon forgot the present in the interesting recapitulation of the past. The first inquiries of the general were respecting the origin of the tumult. The accounts were various. Some imputed it to the desire of the Mexicans to release their sovereign from confinement. Others to the design of cutting off the garrison while crippled by the absence of Cortez and their countrymen. All agreed, however, in tracing the immediate cause to the violence of Alvarado. It was common for the Aztecs to celebrate an annual festival in May in honour of their patron war-god. It was called the insensing of Witzilopochtli, and was commemorated by sacrifice, religious songs and dances in which most of the nobles engaged, for it was one of the great festivals which displayed the pomp of the Aztec ritual. As it was held in the court of the Teocali in the immediate neighbourhood of the Spanish quarters, and as a part of the temple itself was reserved for a Christian chapel, the Caciques asked permission of Alvarado to perform their rites there. They requested also to be allowed the presence of Montezuma. This latter petition of Alvarado declined in obedience to the injunctions of Cortez, but acquiesced in the former on condition that the Aztecs should celebrate no human sacrifices and should come without weapons. They assembled accordingly on the day appointed, to the number of six hundred, at the smallest computation. They were dressed in their most magnificent gala costumes, with their graceful mantles of featherwork sprinkled with precious stones, and their necks, arms and legs ornamented with collars and bracelets of gold. They had that love of gaudy splendour which belongs to semi-civilised nations, and on these occasions displayed all the pomp and profusion of their barbaric wardrobes. Alvarado and his soldiers attended as spectators, some of them taking their station at the gates, as if by chance, and others mingling in the crowd. They were all armed, a circumstance which, as it was usual, excited no attention. The Aztecs were soon engrossed by the exciting movement of the dance, accompanied by their religious chant, and wild discordant minstrelsy. While thus occupied, Alvarado and his men, at a concerted signal, rushed with drawn swords on their victims. Unprotected by armour or weapons of any kind, they were hewn down without resistance by their assailants, who in their bloody work, says a contemporary, showed no touch of pity or compunction. Some fled to the gates, but were caught on the long pikes of the soldiers. Others who attempted to scale the coete puntly, or wall of serpents, as it was called, which surrounded the area, shared the like fate, or were cut to pieces, or shot by the ruthless soldiery. The pavement, says a writer of the age, ran with streams of blood, like water in a heavy shower. Not an Aztec of all that gay company was left alive. It was repeating the dreadful scene of Cholula, with the disgraceful addition that the Spaniards, not content with slaughtering their victims, rifled them of the precious ornaments on their persons. On this sad day fell the flower of the Aztec nobility, not a family of note, but a mourning and desolation brought within its walls, and many a doleful ballad rehearsing the tragic incidents of the story, and adapted to the plaintive national heirs, continued to be chanted by the natives long after the subjugation of the country. Various explanations have been given of this atrocious deed, but few historians have been content to admit that of Alvarado himself. According to this, intelligence had been obtained through his spies, some of them Mexicans, of an intended rising of the Indians. The celebration of this festival was fixed on as the period for its execution, when the casiques would be met together, and would easily rouse the people to support them. Alvarado, advised of all this, had forbidden them to wear arms at their meeting. While affecting to comply, they had secreted their weapons in the neighbouring arsenals, whence they could readily withdraw them. But his own blow, by anticipating theirs, defeated the design, and, as he confidently hoped, would deter the Aztecs from a similar attempt in future. Such is the account of the matter given by Alvarado. But, if true, why did he not verify his assertion by exposing the arms, thus secreted? Why did he not vindicate his conduct in the eyes of the Mexicans generally, by publicly avowing the treason of the nobles, as was done by Cortes at Cholula? The whole looks much like an apology, devised after the commission of the deed, to cover up its atrocity. Some contemporaries assign a very different motive for the massacre, which, according to them, originated in the cupidity of the conquerors, as shown by their plundering the bodies of their victims. Bernal Díaz, who though not present, had conversed familially with those who were, vindicates them from the charge of this unworthy motive. According to him, Alvarado struck the blow in order to intimidate the Aztecs from any insurrectionary movement. But whether he had reason to apprehend such, or even affected to do so before the massacre, the old chronicler does not inform us. On reflection it seems scarcely possible that so foul a deed, and one involving so much hazard to the Spaniards themselves, should have been perpetrated from the mere desire of getting possession of the baubles worn on the persons of the natives. It is more likely this was an afterthought suggested to the rapacious soldiery by the display of the spoil before them. It is not improbable that Alvarado may have gathered rumors of a conspiracy among the nobles, rumors perhaps derived through the Tlaxgarlands, their inveterate foes, and for that reason very little deserving of credit. He proposed to defeat it by imitating the example of his commander at Cholula. But he admitted to imitate his leader in taking precautions against the subsequent rising of the populace, and he grievously miscalculated when he confounded the bold and warlike Aztec with the effeminate Cholulan. No sooner was the butchery accomplished than the tidings spread like wildfire through the capital. Men could scarcely credit their senses. All they had hitherto suffered, the desecration of their temples, the imprisonment of their sovereign, the insults heaped on his person, all were forgotten in this one act. Every feeling of long, smothered hostility and rancour now burst forth in the cry for vengeance. Every former sentiment of superstitious dread was merged in that of inextinguishable hatred. It required no effort of the priests, though this was not wanting, to fan these passions into ablaze. The city rose in arms to a man, and on the following dawn, almost before the Spaniards could secure themselves in their defences, they were assaulted with desperate fury. Some of the assailants attempted to scale the walls. Others succeeded in partially undermining and in setting fire to the works. Whether they would have succeeded in carrying the place by storm is doubtful. But at the prayers of the garrison, Montezuma himself interfered, and mounting the battlements addressed the populace whose fury he endeavoured to mitigate by urging considerations for his own safety. They respected their monarch so far as to desist from further attempts to storm the fortress, but changed their operations into a regular blockade. They threw up works around the palace to prevent the egress of the Spaniards. They suspended the tiangith or market to preclude the possibility of their enemies obtaining supplies, and they then quietly sat down with feelings of sullen desperation, waiting for the hour when famine should throw their victims into their hands. The condition of the besieged, meanwhile, was sufficiently distressing. Their magazines of provisions, it is true, were not exhausted, but they suffered greatly from want of water, which, within the enclosure, was exceedingly brackish, for the soil was saturated with the salt of the surrounding element. In this extremity they discovered it is said a spring of fresh water in the area. Such springs were known in some other parts of the city, but discovered first under these circumstances it was accounted as nothing less than a miracle. Still they suffered much from their past encounters. Seven Spaniards and many Tlaxgarlands had fallen, and there was scarcely one of either nation who had not received several wounds. In this situation, far from their own countrymen, without expectation of succour from abroad, they seemed to have no alternative before them, but a lingering death by famine, or one more dreadful on the altar of sacrifice. From this gloomy state they were relieved by the coming of their comrades. Cortes calmly listened to the explanation made by Alvarado, but before it was ended the conviction must have forced itself on his mind that he had made a wrong selection for this important post. Yet the mistake was natural. Alvarado was a cavalier of high family, gallant and chivalrous, and his warm personal friend. He had talents for action, was possessed of firmness and intrepidity, while his frank and dazzling manners made the tonatio and his special favourite with the Mexicans. But underneath this showy exterior the future conqueror of Guatemala concealed a heart rash rapacious and cruel. He was altogether destitute of that moderation, which in the delicate position he occupied was a quality of more worth than all the rest. When Alvarado had concluded his answers to the several interrogatories of Cortes, the brow of the latter darkened. As he said to his lieutenant, You have done badly. You have been false to your trust. Your conduct has been that of a madman, and turning abruptly on his heel he left him in undisguised displeasure. Yet this was not a time to break with one so popular and in many respects so important to him, as this captain, much less to inflict on him the punishment he merited. The Spaniards were like mariners laboring in a heavy tempest, whose bark nothing but the dexterity of the pilot and the hearty cooperation of the crew can save from foundering. Desensions at such a moment must be fatal. Cortes, it is true, felt strong in his present resources. He now found himself at the head of a force which could scarce the amount to less than twelve hundred and fifty Spaniards and eight thousand native warriors, principally Clascarlands. But though relying on this to overall resistance, the very augmentations of numbers increased the difficulty of subsistence. Discontented with himself, disgusted with his officer, and embarrassed by the disastrous consequences in which Alvarado's intemperance had involved him, he became irritable and indulged in a petulance by no means common. For though a man of lively passions by nature, he held them habitually under control. On the day that Cortes arrived Montezuma had left his own quarters to welcome him. But the Spanish commander, distrusting, as it would seem, however unreasonably his good faith, received him so coldly that the Indian monarch withdrew, displeased and dejected, to his apartment. As the Mexican populace made no show of submission and brought no surprise to the army, the general's ill humour with the emperor continued. When therefore Montezuma sent some of the nobles to ask an interview with Cortes, the latter, turning to his own officers, haughtily exclaimed, What have I to do with this dog of a king who suffers us to starve before his eyes? His captains, among whom were Olid, the Avila, and Velazquez the Leon, endeavoured to mitigate his anger, reminding him, in respectful terms, that, had it not been for the emperor, the garrison might even now have been overwhelmed by the enemy. This remonstrance only chafed him the more. Did not the dog, he asked, repeating the appropriate epithet, betray us in his communications with Narvaith? And does he not now suffer his markets to be closed and leave us to die of famine? Then, turning fiercely to the Mexicans, he said, Go tell your master and his people to open the markets, or we will do it for them at their cost. The chiefs, who had gathered the import of his previous taunt on their sovereign, from his tone and gesture, or perhaps from some comprehension of his language, left his presence swelling with resentment, and in communicating his message, took care it should lose none of its effect. Shortly after Cortes, at the suggestion it is said of Montezuma, released his brother, Quitláhuá, Lord of ëtha Palapán, who, it will be remembered, had been seized on suspicion of cooperating with the chief of Tethcócó, in his meditated revolt. It was thought he might be of service in allaying the present tumult, and bringing the populace to a better state of feeling. But he returned no more to the fortress. He was a bold, ambitious prince, and the injuries he had received from the Spaniards rankled deep in his bosom. He was presumptive heir to the crown, which, by the Aztec laws of succession, descended much more frequently in a collateral than in a direct line. The people welcomed him as the representative of their reign, and chose him to supply the place of Montezuma during his captivity. Quitláhuá willingly accepted the post of honour and of danger. He was an experienced warrior, and exerted himself to reorganise the disorderly levees, and to arrange a more efficient plan of operations. The effect was soon visible. Cortés, meanwhile, had so little doubt of his ability to overorder the insurgents, that he wrote to that effect to the garrison of Villarica, by the same dispatches in which he informed them of his safe arrival in the capital. But scarcely had his messenger been gone half an hour, when he returned breathless with terror, and covered with wounds. The city, he said, was all in arms. The drawbridges were raised, and the enemy would soon be upon them. He spoke truth. It was not long before a horse's sullen sound became audible, like that of the roaring of distant waters. It grew louder and louder, till from the parapet surrounding the enclosure, the great avenues which led to it, might be seen dark with the masses of warriors, who came rolling on in a confused tide towards the fortress. At the same time, the terraces and Athoteas, or flat roofs, in the neighbourhood, were thronged with combatants, brandishing their missiles, who seemed to have risen up as if by magic. It was a spectacle to appall the stoutest. But the dark storm to which it was the prelude, and which gathered deeper and deeper round the Spaniards during the remainder of their residence in the capital, must form the subject of a separate book. Book 5, Chapter 1 of The History of the Conquest of Mexico This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For further information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. History of the Conquest of Mexico by William H. Prescott Book 5, Chapter 1 Desperate Assault on the Quarters Fury of the Mexicans Sally of the Spaniards Montezuma addresses the people, dangerously wounded The palace of Acha Yacatl, in which the Spaniards were quartered, was, as the reader may remember, a vast irregular pile of stone buildings, having but one floor, except in the centre where another story was added, consisting of a suite of apartments, which rose like turrets on the main building of the edifice. A vast area stretched around, encompassed by a stone wall of no great height. This was supported by towers or bulwarks at certain intervals, which gave it some degree of strength, not indeed as compared with European fortifications, but sufficient to resist the rude battering-engineery of the Indians. The parapet had been pierced here and there with embrasures for the artillery, which consisted of thirteen guns, and smaller apertures were made in other parts for the convenience of the Arquibusias. The Spanish forces found accommodations within the Great Building, but the numerous body of class-garland auxiliaries could have had no other shelter than what was afforded by barracks or sheds hastily constructed for the purpose in the spacious courtyard. Thus crowded into a small compact compass, the whole army could be assembled at a moment's notice, and as the Spanish commander was careful to enforce the strictest discipline and vigilance, it was scarcely possible that he could be taken by surprise. No sooner, therefore, did the trumpet call to arms as the approach of the enemy was announced than every soldier was at his post. The cavalry mounted, the artillerymen at their guns, and the archers and Arquibusias stationed so as to give the assailants a warm reception. On they came, with the company's or irregular masses, into which the multitude was divided, rushing forward, each in its own dense column, with many a gay banner displayed, and many a bright gleam of light reflected from helmet, arrow, and spearhead, as they were tossed about in their disorderly array. As they drew near the enclosure, the Aztecs set up a hideous yell, or rather that shrill whistle used in fight by the nations of Anahuac, which rose far above the sound of shell and atabal, and their other rude instruments of warlike melody. There followed this by a tempest of missiles, stones, darts, and arrows, which fell thick as rain on the besieged, while volleys of the same kind descended from the crowded terraces of the neighbourhood. The Spaniards waited until the foremost column had arrived within the best distance for giving effect to their fire, when a general discharge of artillery and Arquibusias swept the ranks of the assailants, and mowed them down by hundreds. The Mexicans were familiar with the report of these formidable engines, as they had been harmlessly discharged on some holiday festival, but never till now had they witnessed their murderous power. They stood aghast for a moment, as with bewildered looks they staggered under the fury of the fire, but soon rallying, the bold barbarians uttered a piercing cry, and rushed forward over the prostrate bodies of their comrades. A second and a third volley checked their career, and threw them into disorder, but still they pressed on, letting off clouds of arrows, while their comrades on the roofs of the houses took more deliberate aim at the combatants in the courtyard. The Mexicans were particularly expert in the use of the sling, and the stones which they hurled from their elevated positions on the heads of their enemies did even greater execution than the arrows. They glanced indeed from the male-covered bodies of the Cavaliers, and from those who were sheltered under the cotton panoply, or escow bill. But some of the soldiers, especially the veterans of Cortes, and many of their Indian allies, had but slight defences, and suffered greatly under this stony tempest. The Aztecs, meanwhile, had advanced close under the walls of the entrenchment, their ranks broken and disordered, and their limbs mangled by the unintermitting fire of the Christians. But they still pressed on under the very muzzle of the guns. They endeavoured to scale the parapet, which from its moderate height was in itself a work of no great difficulty. But the moment they showed their heads above the rampart, they were shot down by the unearing marksmen within, or stretched on the ground by a blow of a class-garland muckawitl. Nothing daunted, others soon appeared to take the place of the fallen, and strove by raising themselves on the writhing bodies of their dying comrades, or by fixing their spears in the crevices of the wall to surmount the barrier. But the attempt proved equally vain. Defeated here, they tried to effect a breach in the parapet by battering it with heavy pieces of timber. The works were not constructed on those scientific principles, by which one part is made to overlook and protect another. The besiegers, therefore, might operate at their pleasure, with but little molestation from the garrison within, whose guns could not be brought into a position to bear on them, and who could mount no part of their own works for their defence, without exposing their persons to the missiles of the whole besieging army. The parapet, however, proved too strong for the efforts of the assailants. In their despair they endeavored to set the Christian quarters on fire, shooting burning arrows into them, and climbing up so as to dart their fire-brands through the embrasures. The principal edifice was of stone, but the temporary defences of the Indian allies and other parts of the exterior works were of wood. Several of these took fire, and the flames spread rapidly among the light combustible materials. This was a disaster for which the besieged were wholly unprepared. They had little water scarcely enough for their own consumption. They endeavored to extinguish the flames by heaping on earth, but in vain. Fortunately the great building was of materials which defied the destroying element. But the fire raged in some of the artworks connected with the parapet, with a fury which could only be checked by throwing down a part of the wall itself, thus laying open a formidable breach. This, by the general's order, was speedily protected by a battery of heavy guns and a file of aquibusiers who kept up an incessant folly through the opening on the assailants. The fight now raged with fury on both sides. The walls around the palace belched forth an unintermitting sheet of flame and smoke. The groans of the wounded and dying were lost in the fiercer battle cries of the combatant, the roar of the artillery, the sharper rattle of the musketry, and the hissing sound of Indian missiles. It was the conflict of the European with the American, of civilised man with the barbarian, of the science of the one with the rude weapons and warfare of the other, and as the ancient walls of Tenochtitlán shook under the thunders of the artillery, it announced that the white man, the destroyer, had set his foot within her precincts. Night at length came and drew her friendly mantle over the contest. The Aztec sailed and fought by night. It brought little repose, however, to the Spaniards in hourly expectation of an assault, and they found abundant occupation in restoring the beaches in their defences, and in repairing their battered armour. The ferocity shown by the Mexicans seems to have been a thing for which Cortes was wholly unprepared. His past experience, his uninterrupted career of victory with a much feebler force at his command, had led him to underrate the military efficiency if not the valour of the Indians. The apparent facility with which the Mexicans had acquiesced in the outrages on their sovereign and themselves, had led him to hold their courage in particular too lightly. He could not believe the present assault to be anything more than a temporary abolition of the populace, which would soon waste itself by its own fury. And he proposed on the following day to sally out and inflict such chastisement on his foes as should bring them to their senses and show who was master in the capital. With early dawn the Spaniards were up and under arms, but not before their enemies had given evidence of their hostility by the random missiles which from time to time were sent into the enclosure. As the grey light of morning advanced it showed the besieging army far from being diminished in numbers, filling up the great square and neighbouring avenues in more dense array than on the preceding evening. Instead of a confused disorderly rabble it had the appearance of something like a regular force with its battalions distributed under their respective banners, the devices of which showed a contribution from the principal cities and districts in the valley. High above the rest was conspicuous the ancient standard of Mexico with its well-known cognizance, an eagle pouncing on an ocelot emblazoned on a rich mantle of featherwork. Here and there priests might be seen mingling in the ranks of the besiegers and with frantic gestures animating them to avenge their insulted deities. The greater part of the enemy had little clothing save the mash-cladle or sash round the loins. They were variously armed, with long spears tipped with copper or flint, or sometimes merely pointed and hardened in the fire. Some were provided with slings, and others with darts having two or three points, with long strings attached to them by which, when discharged, they could be torn away again from the body of the wounded. This was a formidable weapon, much dreaded by the Spaniards. Those of a higher order wielded the terrible with its sharp and brittle blades of obsidian. Amidst the motley bands of warriors were seen many whose showy dress and air of authority intimated persons of high military consequence. Their breasts were protected by plates of metal over which was thrown the gay surcoat of featherwork. They wore casks resembling in their form the head of some wild and ferocious animal crested with bristly hair or overshadowed by tall and graceful plumes of many a brilliant colour. Some few were decorated with the red fillet bound round the hair having tufts of cotton attached to it which denoted by their number that of the victories they had won, and their own preeminent rank among the warriors of the nation. The motley assembly showed that priests, warrior and citizen had all united to swell the tumult. Before the sun had shot his beams into the Castilian quarters, the enemy were in motion, evidently preparing to renew the assault of the preceding day. The Spanish commander determined to anticipate them by a vigorous sortie for which he had already made the necessary dispositions. A general discharge of ordnance and musketry sent death far and wide into the enemy's ranks, and before they had time to recover from their confusion the gates were thrown open, and Cortes, sallying out at the head of his cavalry, supported by a large body of infantry and several thousand-class garlands, rode at full gallop against them. Taken thus by surprise it was scarcely possible to offer much resistance. Those who did were trampled down under the horse's feet, cut to pieces with the broadswords, or pierced with the lances of the riders. The infantry followed up the blow, and the route for the moment was general. But the Aztecs fled only to take refuge behind a barricade or strong work of timber and earth, which had been thrown across the great street through which they were pursued. Rallying on the other side they made a gallant stand and poured in turn a volley of their light weapons on the Spaniards, who, saluted with a storm of missiles at the same time from the terraces of the houses, were checked in their career and thrown into some disorder. Cortes thus impeded, ordered up a few pieces of heavy ordnance, which soon swept away the barricades and cleared a passage for the army. But it had lost the momentum acquired in its rapid advance. The enemy had time to rally and to meet the Spaniards on more equal terms. They were attacked in flank, too, as they advanced by fresh battalions, who swarmed in from the adjoining streets and lanes. The canals were alive with boats filled with warriors, who, with their formidable darts, searched every crevice or weak place in the armour of proof, and made havoc on the unprotected bodies of the Clascarlands. By repeated and vigorous charges the Spaniards succeeded in driving the Indians before them, though many, with a desperation which showed they loved vengeance better than life, sought to embarrass the movements of their horses by clinging to their legs, or more successfully strove to pull the riders from their saddles. And woe to the unfortunate Cavalier who was thus dismounted, to be dispatched by the brutal Macahuitl, or to be dragged on board a canoe to the bloody altar of sacrifice. But the greatest annoyance which the Spaniards endured was from the missiles from the Azoteas, consisting often of large stones hurled with a force that would tumble the stoutest rider from his saddle. Gold in the extreme by these discharges, against which even their shields afforded no adequate protection, Cortes ordered fire to be set to the buildings. This was no very difficult matter, since, although chiefly of stone, they were filled with mats, canework, and other combustible materials, which were soon in ablaze. But the buildings stood separated from one another by canals and drawbridges, so that the flames did not easily communicate to the neighbouring edifices. Hence the labour of the Spaniards was incalculably increased, and their progress in the work of destruction, fortunately for the city, was comparatively slow. They did not relax their efforts, however, till several hundred houses had been consumed, and the miseries of a conflagration, in which the wretched inmates perished equally with the defenders, were added to the other horrors of the scene. The day was now far spent. The Spaniards had been everywhere victorious, but the enemy, though driven back on every point, still kept the field. When broken by the furious charges of the cavalry, he soon rallied behind the temporary defences, which at different intervals had been thrown across the streets, and, facing about, renewed the fight with undiminished courage, till the sweeping away of the barriers by the cannon of the assailants left a free passage for the movements of their horse. Thus the action was a succession of rallying and retreating, in which both parties suffered much, although the loss inflicted on the Indians was probably tenfold greater than that of the Spaniards, but the Aztecs could better afford the loss of a hundred lives than their antagonists that of one. And while the Spaniards showed an array broken and obviously thinned in number, the Mexican army, swelled by the tributary levies which flowed in upon it from the neighbouring streets, exhibited with all its losses no sign of diminution. At length, sated with carnage, and exhausted by toil and hunger, the Spanish commander drew off his men and sounded a retreat. On his way back to his quarters, he beheld his friend, the secretary Duero, in a street adjoining, unhorsed and hotly engaged with a body of Mexicans, against whom he was desperately defending himself with his poignard. Cortes, roused at the sight, shouted his war cry, and dashing into the midst of the enemy, scattered them like chaff by the fury of his onset. Then, recovering his friend's horse, he enabled him to remount, and the two Cavaliers, striking their spurs into their steeds, burst through their opponents, and joined the main body of the army. The undaunted Aztecs hung on the rear of their retreating foes, annoying them at every step by fresh flights of stones and arrows. And when the Spaniards had re-entered their fortress, the Indian host encamped around it, showing the same dogged resolution as on the preceding evening. Though true to their ancient habits of inaction during the night, they broke the stillness of the hour by insulting cries and menaces, which reached the ears of the besieged. The gods have delivered you at last into our hands, they said, which Silopochtli has long cried for his victims. The stone of sacrifice is ready, the knives are sharpened, the wild beasts in the palace are roaring for their offal, and the cages, they added, taunting the Tlaxcalans with their leanness, are waiting for the false sons of our Nahwak, who are to be fattened for the festival. These dismal menaces, which sounded fearfully in the ears of the besieged, who understood too well their import, were mingled with piteous lamentations for their sovereign, whom they called on the Spaniards to deliver up to them. Cortes suffered much from a severe wound, which he had received in the hand in the late action, but the anguish of his mind must have been still greater, as he brooded over the dark prospect before him. He had mistaken the character of the Mexicans. Their long and patient endurance had been a violence to their natural temper, which, as their whole history proves, was arrogant and ferocious beyond that of most of the races of a Nahwak. The restraint which, in deference to their monarch, more than to their own fears, they had so long put on their natures, being once removed, their passions burst forth with accumulated violence. The Spaniards had encountered in the Tlaxcalan an open enemy who had no grievance to complain of, no wrong to redress. He fought under the vague apprehension only of some coming evil to his country, but the Aztec, hitherto the proud lord of the land, was goaded by insult and injury, till he had reached that pitch of self-devotion which made life cheap in comparison with revenge. Considerations of this kind may have passed through the mind of Cortes, as he reflected on his own impotence to restrain the fury of the Mexicans, and resolved in despite of his late supercilious treatment of Montezuma, to employ his authority to allay the tumult, an authority so successfully exerted in behalf of Alvarado at an earlier stage of the insurrection. He was the more confirmed in his purpose on the following morning, when the assailants redoubling their efforts succeeded in scaling the works in one quarter, and effecting an entrance into the enclosure. It is true they were met with so resolute a spirit that not a man of those who entered was left alive, but in the impetuosity of the assault it seemed for a few moments, as if the place was to be carried by storm. Cortes now sent to the Aztec emperor to request his interposition with his subjects in behalf of the Spaniards, but Montezuma was not in the humour to comply. He had remained moodily in his quarters ever since the general's return. Disgusted with the treatment he had received, he had still further cause for mortification in finding himself the ally of those who were the open enemies of his nation. From his apartment he had beheld the tragical scenes in his capital, and seen another quit La Hua, the presumptive heir to his throne, whom Cortes had released a few days previous, taking the place which he should have occupied at the head of his warriors, and fighting the battles of his country. Distressed by his position, indignant at those who had placed him in it, he coldly answered, What have I to do with Malinche? I do not wish to hear from him. I desire only to die. To what a state is my willingness to serve him reduced me. When urged, still further, to comply by Olid and Father Olmeydo, he added, It is of no use. They will neither believe me, nor the false words and promises of Malinche. You will never leave these walls alive. On being assured, however, that the Spaniards would willingly depart if a wave were open to them by their enemies, he at length moved probably more by the desire to spare the blood of his subjects than of the Christians, consented to expostulate with his people. In order to give the greater effect to his presence he put on his imperial robes. The Till-Mutley, his mantle of white and blue, flowed over his shoulders, held together by its rich clasp of the green chow-twick. The same precious gem, with emeralds of uncommon size set in gold, profusely ornamented other parts of his dress. His feet were shod with the golden sandals, and his brows covered by the corpilli or Mexican diadem, resembling in form the pontifical tiara. Thus attired and surrounded by a guard of Spaniards and several Aztec nobles, and preceded by the golden wand, the symbol of sovereignty, the Indian monarch ascended the central turret of the palace. His presence was instantly recognized by the people, and as the royal retinue advanced along the battlements, a change, as if by magic, came over the scene. The clang of instruments, the fierce cries of the assailants, were hushed, and a death-like stillness pervaded the whole assembly, so fiercely agitated but a few moments before by the wild tumult of war. Many prostrated themselves on the ground, others bent the knee, and all turned with eager expectation towards the monarch, whom they had been taught to reverence with slavish awe, and from whose countenance they had been want to turn away as from the intolerable splendors of divinity. Montezuma saw his advantage, and while he stood thus confronted with his awestruck people, he seemed to recover all his former authority and confidence, as he felt himself to be still a king. With a calm voice, easily heard over the silent assembly, he is said by the Castilian writers to have thus addressed them. Why do I see my people here in arms against the palace of my fathers? Is it that you think you're sovereign of prisoner and wish to release him? If so, you have acted rightly. But you are mistaken. I am no prisoner. The strangers are my guests. I remain with them only from choice, and can leave them when I list. Have you come to drive them from the city? That is unnecessary. They will depart of their own accord if you will open away for them. Return to your homes then. Lay down your arms. Show your obedience to me who have a right to it. The white men shall go back to their own land, and all shall be well again within the walls of Tenochtitlan. As Montezuma announced himself the friend of the detested strangers, a murmur ran through the multitude, a murmur of contempt for the pucillanimous prince who could show himself so insensible to the insults and injuries for which the nation was in arms. The swollen tide of their passions swept away all the barriers of ancient reverence, and, taking a new direction, descended on the head of the unfortunate monarch, so far degenerated from his warlike ancestors. Beisastek! they exclaimed. Woman, coward! The white men have made you a woman fit only to weave and spin. These bitter taunts were soon followed by still more hostile demonstrations. A chief, it is said, of high rank, bent a bow or brandished a javelin with an air of defiance against the emperor, when, in an instant, a cloud of stones and arrows descended on the spot where the royal train was gathered. The Spaniards, appointed to protect his person, had been thrown off their guard by the respectful deportment of the people during their lord's address. They now hastily interposed their bucklers. But it was too late. Montezuma was wounded by three of the missiles, one of which, a stone, fell with such violence on his head near the temple, as brought him senseless to the ground. The Mexicans, shocked at their own sacrilegious act, experienced a sudden revulsion of feeling, and, setting up a dismal cry, dispersed panic struck in different directions. Not one of the multitudinous array remained in the great square before the palace. The unhappy prince, meanwhile, was born by his attendance to his apartments below. On recovering from the insetsability caused by the blow, the wretchedness of his condition broke upon him. He had tasted the last bitterness of degradation. He had been reviled, rejected by his people. The meanest of the rabble had raised their hands against him. He had nothing more to live for. It was in vain that Cortes and his officers endeavored to soothe the anguish of his spirit and fill him with better thoughts. He spoke not a word in answer. His wound, though dangerous, might steal with skillful treatment, not prove mortal. But Montezuma refused all the remedies prescribed for it. He tore off the bandages as often as they were applied, maintaining all the while the most determined silence. He sat with eyes dejected, brooding over his fallen fortunes, over the image of ancient majesty and present humiliation. He had survived his honour. But a spark of his ancient spirit seemed to kindle in his bosom, as it was clear he did not mean to survive his disgrace. From this painful scene the Spanish general and his followers were soon called away by the new dangers which menaced the garrison. End of Book 5, Chapter 1