History of Mexico, Volume 1, 1516-1521

by Hubert Howe Bancroft

FOOTNOTES

[793] In Manuscrit de 1528, Aubin Col., Cihuacohuatl and Tzihuacpopocatzin, brothers of Montezuma, are named as the leaders of the opposition party, connected also with the followers of Quetzalcoatl, who abhorred the cruel rites of the Aztecs. They succeeded, it is said, in introducing provisions for the besieged. Brasseur de Bourbourg, Hist. Nat. Civ., iv. 317-18. But this is doubtful.

[794] This is probably the sally which Herrera intrusts to Salcedo. dec. ii. lib. x. cap. viii.

[795] ‘Por importunidad de muchos ... acordó de salir della.’ Carta del Ejército, in Icazbalceta, Col. Doc., i. 429. ‘El ... capitan dilataba de cada dia la dicha salida,’ but the officers insisted that he should leave. Segunda Probanza de Lejalde, in Id., 423.

[796] Clavigero directs the operation against the Iztapalapan road, which would have been a useless manœuvre. Cortés is explicit enough on the point.

[797] In a privilegio in favor of the daughter Isabel, Cortés refers to this interview, saying that three daughters were intrusted to him. No allusion is made to any son. The affectionate terms in which he herein speaks of Montezuma must be due to political reasons, and perhaps to a regard for the princesses. Panes, Vireyes, in Monumentos Domin. Esp., MS., 67-8. Ramirez ridicules the idea of an appeal by the emperor to Cortés, who was on unfriendly terms with him. Soc. Mex. Geog., Boletin, x. 359 et seq. But the effort of Montezuma to save the Spaniards shows that intercourse had been reëstablished; and was not Cortés, as the husband of one or more of his daughters, the proper person to protect their sisters?

[798] The question of his conversion has been much discussed. ‘No le pudo atraer a que se bolviesse Cristiano,’ says Bernal Diaz, Hist. Verdad., 105; and Herrera is even more explicit. dec. ii. lib. x. cap. x. Cortés and his followers, Martyr and Oviedo, give no indications to the contrary. Ixtlilxochitl states, however, that he had learned several prayers, and even begged for baptism, but that the rite was deferred ‘por la pascua siguiente, que era de la resurreccion, y fue tan desdichado, que nunca alcanzó tanto bien.’ Hist. Chich., 299. Yet he adds that it has been said ‘que se bautizó y se llamó Don Juan.’ Relaciones, 457. According to Gomara he asked for baptism in the beginning of lent, but it was determined to postpone the rite till pentecost, for greater effect, and as more appropriate for so high a personage. Owing to the troubles arising out of Narvaez’ arrival nothing was done then, ‘y despues de herido oluidose con la prissa del pelear!’ Hist. Mex., 154. Cortés had persuaded him, says Vetancurt, during the early days of his imprisonment, to accept baptism, and he was taken to the temple for the purpose, but at the last moment he excused himself on the ground that the Indians would elect another lord and attack them all if he abandoned the faith. Teatro Mex., iii. 132-3. Father Duran, on the contrary, ever zealous for the natives, and particularly for his hero, Montezuma, asserts that trustworthy men had vouched for his baptism. Padre Olmedo had also expressed belief therein, although he had not been present when it was administered. Hist. Ind., MS., ii. 445. The father’s memory must have failed him with respect to Olmedo. Camargo has also been assured of his baptism, with Cortés and Alvarado for sponsors. Hist. Tlax., 166. Tezozomoc, who claims to have investigated the point, declares explicitly that the rite was administered on his death-bed, when he received the name of Cárlos, and that Cortés, Olid, and Alvarado were the sponsors. Recopilacion de verídicas tradiciones, probando que el emperador Moteuhsoma recibió el santo sacramento del bautismo. This author wrote at the close of the sixteenth century, and follows traditions only. Bustamante, in modern times, has also reviewed the question, and follows Tezozomoc implicitly. In support thereof he quotes a poem, by Captain Angel Betancourt, wherein he refers to Montezuma as the ‘indio bautizado,’ introduces the vague utterance of Ixtlilxochitl, and even attempts to misconstrue a certain expression of Cortés. Montezuma tells the latter to baptize his daughters, and this Bustamante regards as proof that he himself desired the rite. He does not suppose that the religion of the vicious Spaniards could have had great attractions for him, but when about to die he accepted it, ‘as the drowning man does the saving plank.’ Article in Chimalpain, Hist. Conq., i. 287-95. Still fuller is the review of Ramirez, who follows Torquemada in pointing out the fact that neither Cortés nor Alvarado ever referred to their supposed sponsorship, as they certainly would have done in connection with so distinguished a personage had they felt empowered. Soc. Mex. Geog., Boletin.

[799] Cortés’ chronology, as indicated in the Cartas, shows clearly that he left Mexico during the night of June 30th, as will be demonstrated. He also implies what Bernal Diaz and Herrera distinctly assert, that considerable fighting took place on the Tlacopan road between the time the corpse was surrendered to the Aztecs and the Spaniards returned to their quarters preparatory to evacuation. Hence the death must have occurred early on that day. Herrera confirms Cortés’ testimony that he could not have died before the 30th, by saying, ‘en quatro dias se murio.’ dec. ii. lib. x. cap. x. It is also generally admitted that he was not wounded before the third day of the siege.

[800] ‘Cortes lloró por èl, y todos nuestros Capitanes, y soldados: è hombres huvo entre nosotros ... que tan llorado fue, como si fuera nuestro padre.’ Bernal Diaz, Hist. Verdad., 104. Cortés speaks highly of him, ‘y siempre tuvo mui buena voluntad á los Españoles,’ but this is in the deed presented to his daughter. See Privilegio, Monumentos Domin. Esp., MS., 66. In the Cartas he is referred to merely as a captive who dies. After saying that he never consented to the death of a Spaniard nor to injury against Cortés, Gomara adds: ‘Tambien ay quien lo cõtrario diga.’ Hist. Mex., 154-5.

[801] Clavigero says 54, but Bernal Diaz, who was so much in his company, could hardly have been mistaken, and the comparative youth of his children also indicates that 41 is more correct.

[802] ‘Antes ni despues huvo en este mundo quien le igualase en magestad y profanidad ... fue muy justiciero ... de condicion muy severo, aunque cuerdo y gracioso.’ Ixtlilxochitl, Hist. Chich., 301. ‘Dizen los Indios que fue el mejor de su linaje, y el mayor rey de Mexico.’ Gomara, Hist. Mex., 155. ‘Fu circospetto, magnifico, liberale ... sua giustizia degenerava in crudeltà.’ Clavigero, Storia Mess., iii. 132; Herrera, dec. ii. lib. x. cap. x.; Torquemada, i. 499-500.

[803] ‘Fue muy sabio, pues passaua por las cosas assi, o muy necio q̄ no las sentia.’ Gomara, Hist. Mex., 155. ‘El hombre mas sábio de su siglo,’ is Bustamante’s interpretation. He also discovers that Montezuma objected to sacrifices! Chimalpain, Hist. Conq., 292-3.

[804] See Native Races, ii. 149-50.

[805] ‘Pareva aver cangiato di sesso, siccome dicevano i suoi sudditi.’ Clavigero, Storia Mess., iii. 132.

[806] So Cano, the son-in-law, declares, Oviedo, iii. 549, and so Cortés intimates in the privilegio to Isabel, whom he calls ‘su legitima heredera,’ especially commended to him.

[807] Of the rest of the imperial wives and concubines nothing positive is known, save that a number of them and their daughters were liberally bestowed, as a mark of imperial favor, on prominent personages, including Spaniards. After the conquest they sank into obscurity, although some of them still managed to maintain a certain consideration among the natives, despite their poverty. Bernal Diaz claims that he received one of the concubines; upon Olid was bestowed a daughter, and upon Cortés two, it is said, one baptized as Ana, the other as Inés. Two witnesses declare that Isabel also ‘cinco meses questava casada con ... Gallego e que pario una fija y que hera del ... Cortés.’ Cortés, Residencia, ii. 242, 244; i. 63, 99, 221, 263. The three daughters confided to Cortés on their father’s death-bed were not in the Spanish quarters at the time, at least not all of them, but were found after the conquest and baptized. The eldest and legitimate, the attractive Tecuichpo, was then the wife of the last and captive sovereign, Quauhtemotzin, her cousin, who had married her chiefly with a view to strengthen his hold on the throne, for she was too young for the married state. She was baptized as Isabel, and her Indian husband having been executed, Cortés, on his return from Honduras, gave her in marriage to the hidalgo Alonso Grado, of Alcántara, who had succeeded Ávila as contador, and now held the position of visitador general of New Spain. In consideration partly of Grado’s services and partly of Isabel’s rank, the captain-general bestowed as dower, in the emperor’s name, the town of Tacuba (Tlacopan), with the villages and farms subject to it, together with the title of señora thereof. The deed, which recounts the services of her father and the intrusting of his daughters to Cortés, is signed by him as captain-general and governor of New Spain, and dated June 27, 1523. It is given, among other books, in Monumentos Domin. Esp., MS., 65-8. Grado dying soon after, without issue, she married Pedro Andrade Gallego, by whom she had one son, Juan Andrade, the founder of the Andrade-Montezuma family. This branch inherited the Villa Alta villages, in Oajaca, and other estates, which in 1745 were bought up by the crown for a pension of 3000 pesos, continued by the Mexican government in irregular payments. A member of this branch was the bishop of Chiapas a few years later. Certificacion de las Mercedes, MS., 14-18. M. Fossey describes a visit, in 1849, to the poverty-stricken yet proud descendants. Mexique, 497-500. The omission of Gallego’s middle name has led the critical Alaman, among others, to assume that this family descends from Isabel’s fifth marriage with Juan Andrade. Prescott’s Mex. (Mex. 1844), ii. 31. Nor is Prescott free from error in connection with Montezuma’s descendants. The Andrade branch became allied to the Condes de Miravalle, and a daughter of this house was the wife of General Barragan, who became presidente interino of the republic, thus raising a descendant of Montezuma once again to the supreme place in the country. The Princess Isabel was married a fourth time, to Juan Cano de Saavedra, by whom she had five children, the inheritors of the Tacuba estates, also exchanged for a pension which was continued by the republic. Of the Princess Acatlan’s two daughters, María and Mariana, the former left no issue. Mariana married the conquistador Juan de Paz, bringing a dower of three towns, and after his death she took for husband the conqueror Cristóbal de Valderrama. By him she had a daughter, Leonor, who, marrying Diego Arias Sotelo, gave origin to the Sotelo-Montezuma family. Fonseca, Hist. Hacienda, i. 464. This work, with its collection of official papers and extracts, gives a mass of information about the imperial descendants and estates. Prescott confounds the mother and daughter. Mex., ii. 351-2. Viceroy Mendoza, in a despatch to the emperor of December 10, 1537, refers to the death, three weeks before, of Valderrama, and speaks of children by the former husband, which are not admitted in Fonseca. Pacheco and Cárdenas, Col. Doc., ii. 208. Cortés refers to three sons of Montezuma: the heir, who fell on the causeway during the noche triste, and two surviving boys, ‘one said to be insane, the other paralyzed.’ On leaving Mexico he took with him one son and two daughters, his concubines probably, all of whom perished. Cartas, 135, 153. Sahagun names two sons, who perished on that occasion. Hist. Conq. (ed. 1840), 122, 126. Ixtlilxochitl gives them different names. Hist. Chich., 302. Cano gives the name Asupacaci to the heir, or only legitimate son, the brother of his wife Isabel, and states that he was killed by Quauhtemotzin, who feared him as the only rival to the throne. Oviedo, iii. 549. Brasseur de Bourbourg follows him, but prefers the name of Cipocatzin for the young prince, while Axayoca is also applied. Cortés’ version is more likely to be correct, however. One of the surviving sons, ‘Signor di Tenajoccan,’ Clavigero, Storia Mess., iii. 133, was baptized with the intervention of his sponsor, Rodrigo de Paz, and died three years after the conquest, ‘y se enterrò en la Capilla de San Joseph.’ Vetancvrt, Teatro Mex., pt. iii. 144. This author assumes that the youth fled with the Spaniards from the capital and hid at Tepotzotlan. The other prince, son of Miahuaxochitl, daughter of the lord of Tula, and niece of Montezuma—baptized as María, says Vetancurt—received the name of Don Pedro. He accompanied Cortés to Spain in 1528, it appears, at the age of eighteen, and made repeated appeals to the emperor for a maintenance in accordance with his rank. At first some trifling favors were granted, and he, together with a cousin, was educated by the Franciscans in Madrid. Puga, Cedulario, 85. President Fuenleal, of the audiencia, and other prominent persons having added their recommendation, regular pensions and encomiendas were bestowed, including the town of Tula, the seat of his maternal grandparents, upon which was based the second title of Condes de Montezuma y de Tula, conferred on his grandson. The line expired on the male side with the great great-grandson of the emperor, whose daughter married Sarmiento de Valladares, duke of Atlixco, and viceroy of New Spain, thus raising the name again to the highest position in the country. Prescott, following Humboldt, Essai Pol., i. 191, 203, calls Valladares, by mistake, a descendant of Montezuma. The cousin of the vice-queen married Silva, the first marquis of Tenebron, whose descendants inherited the title and estates from the other branch, and became grandees in 1765. Their pension amounted at this time to 40,000 pesos, says Berni, Titulos de Castilla, which represented in part the encomiendas withdrawn by the government. The republic recognized this portion, as it had the pensions to the other branches. Shortly after the independence of Mexico the holder of the title, Alonso Marcilla de Teruel Montezuma, came over with the intention of asserting his claim to the throne of his forefathers, but the prudent possessors of the power thought it best not to admit him, and he passed on to New Orleans, there to put an end to his life some years later. Prescott understands that the septuagenarian had been disappointed in love. Mex., ii. 352. Several members of the Spanish nobility have intermarried with this line, among them a branch of the Guzman family, whence the claim made for the consort of Napoleon III. of having Montezuma’s blood in her veins. Gondra gives a portrait of a member married into the Mendoza family. Prescott’s Mex. (ed. Mex. 1845), 219. One of the line, Padre Louis de Montezuma, wrote the Historia del Emperador, which has been consulted by Alaman, Disert., i. app. ii. 158. Clavigero gives a genealogic table in Storia Mess., iii. 235, and Carbajal, while plagiarizing the statements and blunders of others, adds a few of his own. Hist. Mex., ii. 378-88. In Fonseca, Hist. Hacienda, i. 455 et seq., are to be found several valuable extracts concerning titles and estates; also in Reales Cédulas, MS., i. pt. i. 5, ii. 4 etc.; Certificacion de las Mercedes, MS.; Mex. Mem. Hacienda, 1848, 35-6; Fuenleal, Carta, in Pacheco and Cárdenas, Col. Doc., xiii. 222. The family name has been spelled in different ways, also by its possessors, as Motezuma, Muteczuma, Moctezuma, Mocthecuzoma, Motecuhzuma, Moteuhzuma; but Montezuma is the most common form.

The Historia de las Indias de Nueva-España y Islas de Tierra Firme, by Father Diego Duran, is claimed by its author, in the introductory to chapter lxxiv., to be devoted essentially to the life and rule of this monarch, ‘cuya vida é história yo escribo.’ The preparation of the work was more directly prompted by a compassion for the maltreated natives, whose champion he constituted himself, in common with so many of the friars. This spirit led him naturally to color the occurrences of the conquest; and a non-critical acceptance of whimsical legends and statements in favor of his protégés tends further to reduce the value of the work. His deep interest in the aborigines and their history may be explained by the fact that he was born at Tezcuco, of a native mother. Franco wrongly calls him Pedro, and Clavigero, Fernando. He professed as a Dominican at Mexico, in 1556, with missionary aspirations, no doubt, but a delicate constitution and constant suffering confined him rather to the monastery, and directed his efforts to researches and writing. Castellanos, Defensa, 28, attributes several works to him, and Eguiara, Bib. Mex., 324, the compilation of the Dominican history of Dávila Padilla, though not the style and form. Dávila also, ‘scrisse la Storia antica de’ Messicani, servendosi de’ materiali raccolti già da Ferdinando Duran Domenicano da Tezcuco; ma questa opera non si trova.’ Clavigero, Storia Mess., i. 13. But this may be a mistake. A similar rewriting would have greatly improved the Historia de las Indias, which is exceedingly unpolished and slovenly, full of repetitions and bad spelling, and showing great poverty of expression. On the other hand, it is relieved by an admirable portrayal of character and knowledge of human nature, and by a minute study of the effect of conversion on the natives. The work consists of three tratados, the first in 78 chapters, giving the history of Mexico from its origin to the conquest, terminating with the expedition to Honduras. This was completed in 1581, while the other two were finished two years before. The second tratado, in 23 chapters, treats of Mexican divinities and rites, and the third, in two, or more properly nineteen, chapters, of calendar and festivals. Padre Duran died in 1588, leaving the manuscripts to Juan Tovar, Dávila Padilla, Hist. Fvnd. Mex., 653, who gave them to Acosta, then occupied in preparing his Natura Novi Orbis, and other works. The contribution came most opportunely, and was used chiefly for his account of Mexico, as he frankly admits, though giving the credit to Tovar, who may have claimed the authorship. On the strength of this statement Clavigero, with others, confirms the claim to the ‘nobilissimo Gesuita Messicano.’ Torquemada, i. 170-1, ii. 120, himself not spotless, takes advantage of the confession to rail at Acosta for borrowed plumage, mutilated at that. The manuscripts, now in the Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid, are written in double columns and illustrated with numerous plates. Pinelo, Epitome, ii. 711, refers to them as in two parts. A few copies have been taken, mine forming three volumes. A set obtained by José Fernando Ramirez, one of Maximilian’s ministers, was prepared by him for publication, but, owing to the death of the imperial patron, only the first 68 chapters were issued at Mexico, 1867, in one volume, with notes and considerable changes of the style. This mutilation, as some term it, may have been a reason for the seizure of the whole edition, together with the separate plates, by the republican government. Only a few copies escaped this fate, one of which I succeeded in obtaining. Although independent issue was long withheld from Duran, he has at least enjoyed the honor of being associated with one possessed of far greater fame than he himself could ever hope to achieve.

The motives which impelled Joseph de Acosta to write on America were quite pretentious. Among the many Spanish books on the New World, he says: ‘I have not seene any other author which treates of the causes and reasons of these novelties and wonders of nature, or that hath made any search thereof. Neither have I read any booke which maketh mention of the histories of the antient Indians, and naturall inhabitants.’ With a view to repair these omissions he issued De Natvra Novi Orbis libri dvo, et de Promvlgatione Evangelii, apvd Barbaros, sive de Procvranda Indorvm Salvte Libri sex. Salmanticœ, 1589. The first part, De Natura, is a philosophic dissertation on physical features, on the probable knowledge among the ancients of a western hemisphere, and on the origin of the Indians. The second part, in six books, bearing a separate imprint under 1588, though published only in connection with the previous two books, treats entirely of the method and progress of Indian conversion. The Natura was translated into Spanish, and incorporated, with some amendments, in the Historia Natvral y moral de las Indias, Sevilla, 1590, dedicated to Infanta Isabel, which treats also of Indian history and customs, and refers briefly to the conquest. The work achieved great success, and was reproduced in numerous editions, in nearly every language, though often without Acosta’s name, and in distorted form, as in De Bry and some German versions. This may not be considered bad treatment by those who charge Acosta with plagiarism, although he frankly admits following a number of authors, among them ‘es vno Polo Ondegardo, a quien communmente sigo en las cosas de el Piru: y en las materias de Mexico Ioan de Touar prebendado que fue de la Iglesia de Mexico, y agora es religioso de nuestra Compañia de Iesvs. El qual por orden del Virrey hizo dõ Martin Enriquez diligẽte, y copiosa aueriguaciõ de las historias antiguas.’ See p. 396. There is no doubt that the interest and value of the work are owing chiefly to the circumstance that the original authorities have remained sealed, until lately at least; for, despite its pretentious aim, the pages are marred by frequent indications of the then prevalent superstition and credulity. The Procvrando Indorvm Salvte is more in consonance with the character of the Jesuit missionary and scholastic.

Born at Medina del Campo about 1539, he had in his fourteenth year joined the Society, to which four brothers already belonged. After studying and teaching theology at Ocana, he proceeded in 1571 to Peru, where he became the second provincial of his order. Returning to Spain seventeen years later—‘post annos in Peruano regno exactos quindeciem, in Mexicano & Insularibus duos,’ says the dedication of 1588 to Philip II., in De Natvra of 1589—he gained the favor of the king, occupied the offices of visitador and superior, and died as rector at Salamanca, February 15, 1600. Several other works, in print and manuscript, chiefly theologic, are attributed to him—see Camus, 104-13—among them De la criança de Cyro, dedicated to Filipe III. in 1592, which was also a borrowed text, from Xenophon, and remained a manuscript in the Royal Library.

CHAPTER XXVI.
LA NOCHE TRISTE.
June 30, 1520.

The Captive-King Drama Carried too Far—Better had the Spaniards Taken Montezuma’s Advice, and have Departed while Opportunity Offered—Diplomatic Value of a Dead Body—Necessity for an Immediate Evacuation of the City—Departure from the Fort—Midnight Silence—The City Roused by a Woman’s Cry—The Fugitives Fiercely Attacked on All Sides—More Horrors.

And now what must have been the feelings of the invaders, who, like the ancient mariner, had killed the bird that made the breeze blow! For assuredly they were responsible for the emperor’s death. Indeed, the direct charge of murder against Cortés has not been wanting, even among Spanish chroniclers; but this was owing greatly to the effort of the general to extricate the army from its desperate situation while the enemy was supposed to be distracted by grief and engaged in solemn obsequies. We may be sure, however, that the Spaniards did not kill Montezuma; that they did not even desire his death; but regarded it at this juncture as the greatest misfortune which could happen to them.[808] For in the vast evolvings of their fast, unfathomable destiny, they were now all like sea-gulls poised in mid-air while following a swiftly flying ship.

It is interesting to note the manœuvring on both sides over the dead monarch, who having ministered so faithfully to his enemies while living, must needs continue in the service after death. The hostile chiefs were called and informed of the sad consequences of their outrage on the emperor. The body would be sent to them, so that they might accord it the last honors. The leaders replied curtly that they had now a new chief, and cared no longer for Montezuma, dead or alive. The corpse was nevertheless carefully arrayed in fitting robes and given in charge of two prisoners, a priest and a chief,[809] with instructions to carry it to the Mexican camp, and explain the circumstances of the death and the grief of the Spaniards. On appearing outside the fort a leader motioned them back, and would probably have used force but for the priestly character of the bearers, behind whom the gate had been closed. A few moments later they disappeared from view. The disrespect shown the living was not spared the dead. As the corpse was borne through the streets jeers and insults fell from lips which formerly kissed the ground on which the monarch had stood. Many declared that a coward like Montezuma, who had brought so many misfortunes on the country, was not worthy of even ordinary burial.[810] The imperial party managed, however, to secure the body, and, assisted by those to whom the royal blood and high priestly character of the deceased outweighed other feelings, an honorable though quiet cremation was accorded in the Celpalco, where Sahagun intimates that the ashes remained.[811]

Shortly after the body had left the Spanish quarters Cortés sent a fresh message to the Mexicans, believing that by this time the presence of the august dead might have had its effect on them. He pointed out the respect due to the remains of a sovereign, and proposed a cessation of hostilities with that view, and till they had elected a successor, one more worthy than the present leader, who had driven them to rebel.[812] The chiefs replied that the Spaniards need trouble themselves about nothing but their own safety. They might come forth, they added tauntingly, to arrange a truce with their new leader, whose heart was not so easily moulded as that of Montezuma. Respect for the emperor, the Spaniards replied, had made them hitherto lenient toward his people, but if they remained obstinate no further mercy would be shown, and not one Mexican would be spared. “Two days hence not one Spaniard will be alive!” was the retort.

Hostilities were thereupon resumed, and Cortés did not delay the prearranged attempt to complete the capture of the approach to Tlacopan. The presence of the imperial corpse had either a retarding influence on the movements of the enemy, or else the Spaniards sallied unexpectedly and fought with greater energy, for the four remaining bridges were gained with little difficulty, and twenty horsemen passed on to the shore, while the infantry and allies took possession of the route, and began filling in the channels with débris, so as to form a solid path, or to repair the bridges at the deeper places. At this time a messenger arrived with the announcement from the chiefs who were directing the siege of the fort that they were willing to treat for peace. Leaving the forces in charge of Velazquez, Cortés hurried with some horsemen to answer the welcome summons. The chiefs proposed that if pardon was granted them for past offences they would raise the siege, repair the bridges and causeways, and return to peaceful intercourse. In order to arrange the conditions they demanded the liberation of the captured high-priest. This was at once agreed to, and after some discussion messengers were despatched to different parts of the city, bearing orders, it was said, to stay hostilities.

It is somewhat singular that the astute Cortés should have given such ready credence to proposals so advantageous to himself. Yet this appears to have been the case. Delighted with the happy adjustment of affairs, he ordered prepared a grand supper; but he had hardly seated himself at table before tidings reached him that the Mexicans had returned to the attack on the causeway, largely reinforced by land and water, and were regaining the bridges taken that day. The conference had been a ruse to throw the Spaniards off their guard, to obtain the release of the high-priest, from whom besides much information was expected about the condition of the besieged, and to gain time for bringing up reinforcements.[813] Fearful that his retreat would yet be cut off, Cortés galloped back to the causeway, threw himself on the enemy, recovered the bridges, and was soon in hot pursuit of the flying Mexicans. He had not proceeded far, however, when the Indians, who had rushed for safety into the lake and the canals, were encouraged to return to the attack and cut off the cavalry. With furious charges they drove the guard from the bridges, and began to destroy them and remove the filling.[814] The causeway swarmed again with foes, and the water round it was alive with canoes, whence myriads of missiles were directed against the horsemen as they pushed their way back. On reaching the last causeway breach, nearest the city, the riders feared they would be overwhelmed, for here the enemy was gathered in masses and had destroyed the passage. Nothing was left for them but to take to the water, midst a storm of stones and darts, while lines of spears and javelins pressed against them from the land and from canoes. The party was thrown in disorder, and one rider was pitched from his saddle during the mêlée, obstructing the passage to the rest.[815] Cortés remained the last to cover the retreat, and single-handed now and then turned on the swarming warriors, striking with the energy of despair. Eager to secure the great general, the enemy pressed heavily upon him, and but for the stout armor protecting himself and the horse he would certainly have perished. As it was, he received two severe wounds in the knee, besides many scratches. The last Spaniard having left the bank, Cortés rang loud his San Pedro cry, and clearing the way he leaped his heavily laden horse across the chasm, six feet in width, and quickly left behind him the discomfited crowd. “Had not God helped me,” he writes, “that moment would have been my last.” Indeed, it was already rumored in the city that he was dead. It being found impossible to hold the causeway bridges, a guard was left only at the others, while the remainder of the troops returned to the fort, worn-out and demoralized.[816]

Long since it had been agreed among the Spaniards that the city must be evacuated; time and method were the only questions. The former of these was now resolved on by the council: it should be this very night. It was safer to meet the issue now than later. The enemy was hourly reinforced. Perilous indeed was the undertaking to pass with luggage, war stores, prisoners, and women over the broken causeway in the darkness; but to remain was death. Botello, the astrologer, had declared for this time, and so it was determined. For Botello was wise and prudent, knowing Latin and the stars; he had foretold the greatness of Cortés, and had recommended his night attack on Narvaez, and general and soldiers believed in him.[817] Had he lived a century or two later his words might have been employed as the vox stellarum by the almanac makers. The Mexicans had said that they would make it a time of sore distress, any attempted escape of the intruders, a time when men must struggle, and women would pray and weep; and if so, it were no worse for the fugitives that black night should fling her mantle over the bloody scene.

Since the Indians were supposed to have destroyed the crossing at the causeway channels, a portable bridge was made with which to effect the passage. Two more would probably have been made had time and convenience permitted, but misfortune willed it otherwise. It was agreed that a large portion of the effects must be left behind in order not to encumber the march, but the gold demanded special care. The royal officials, Mejía and Ávila, were charged to secure it, and for this purpose a number of carriers were assigned, the general giving also one of his own mares. Their convoy was intrusted to a body of infantry, under Alonso de Escobar.[818] The secretary, Hernandez, and the royal notaries were called to testify that all had been done that was possible. There still remained a large quantity of the bulky jewels belonging to the king, besides a mass of unappropriated treasure, which could not be intrusted to carriers, or for which no carriers were found, and rather than leave them to the ‘Indian dogs’ Cortés announced that the soldiers might take all they wished—after permitting his favorites the first selection. He warned them, however, that the more they took the more their safety would be endangered. The adherents of Cortés do not appear to have been eager to encumber themselves, and Bernal Diaz shared this prudence in taking only four chalchiuite stones. The men of Narvaez practised less restraint, and many loaded themselves with the metal. Cortés was afterward charged with having appropriated a considerable share of the wealth thus thrown open; he certainly had funds with which to send for horses, war material, and supplies.[819]

Sandoval was appointed to lead the van, with two hundred infantry and twenty horsemen, assisted by Ordaz, Andrés de Tapia, and others. With him went fifty men under Captain Magarino to carry the bridge. They were pledged to remain at their post to the last, and were escorted by a select body of infantry and allies. For the middle were destined the baggage and treasure, the prisoners and the sick, under a large escort, supervised by Cortés himself, who, with Olid, Morla, Ávila, and other captains, and a special force of one hundred men, were to render aid where needed. The artillery was intrusted to two hundred and fifty Tlascaltecs and fifty soldiers, and the rear was placed in charge of Alvarado and Velazquez, with thirty horsemen and about one hundred adherents of Cortés, with most of the men of Narvaez. The allied forces, of whom a number appear to have returned home during the inaction of Montezuma’s captivity, and who had suffered greatly during the siege, must still have numbered nearly six thousand men, including carriers, distributed among the three divisions.[820] Among the prisoners Cortés enumerates the legitimate son of Montezuma, and two of his daughters, probably those bestowed on the general in marriage, King Cacama and his younger brother and successor, and several other high personages.[821] The sick were to be carried in hammocks and behind riders.

It is the evening of the 30th of June.[822] Fiery copper has been the sky that day; the sun blood-red and moon-like, turning day to night, when night is so soon to be employed as day. As the hour approaches, a fog sets in, which thickens into mist and denser moisture until, to favor the Spaniards, providence turns it to a drizzling rain,[823] thus to veil their movements, and make substantial the silence of the city, the lake, the distant wood; and thereupon all join fervently in the prayer of Father Olmedo and commend their lives to almighty God.

About midnight the order is given to march.[824] Stealthily they creep down the temple square and reach the Tlacopan road.[825] The streets are wholly deserted. All is quiet, save the dull rumble of tramping soldiers. The blessed rain, or some supernatural interposition, seems to keep the whole city within doors. And if this kind power will but have patience and not desert them for one brief hour—ah, it is so easy for Omnipotence to help! Along the road like a phantom the army moves. The van picks up the guard at the canal crossings. The causeway is almost reached. Already they begin to breathe freer; a feeling of intense relief steals into their breasts, and—Mother of God! what noise is that? It is the piercing outcry of a woman[826]—may the foul fiend seize her!—breaking upon the stillness like a warning note from the watch-tower of Avernus. On the instant the war-drum of the Tlatelulco temple sends forth its doleful sound, chilling the fugitives to the very heart’s core. Quickly its tones are drowned by the nearer, shriller trumpet-blasts and shouts of warriors, echoed and reëchoed from every quarter.

Meanwhile the advance column had reached the sixth bridge crossing,[827] the first to connect with the causeway, and had obliged the Mexican picket to retire, after exchanging a few shots. The portable bridge was here laid, and the van crossed with quickened steps, followed by the centre with the baggage and artillery. At this juncture the enemy fell upon the rear, rending the air with their yells, sending their missiles fast and furious, while from the cross-roads issued a swarm, with lance and sword, on Alvarado’s flank. Over the water resounded their cries, and canoes came crowding round the causeway to attack the forward ranks. To add to the horrors of the tumult, several men and horses slipped on the wet bridge and fell into the water; others, midst heart-rending cries, were crowded over the edge by those behind. All the rest succeeded in crossing, however, except about one hundred soldiers. These, it is said, bewildered by the battle cries and death shrieks, turned back to the fort, and there held out for three days, till hunger forced them to surrender and meet the fate of sacrificial victims at the coronation feast of Cuitlahuatzin.[828]

The half mile of causeway extending between the first and second breaches was now completely filled with Spaniards and allies, whose flanks were harassed by the forces brought forward in canoes on either side. Dark and foggy as the night was, the outline of the Indian crews could be distinguished by the white and colored tilmatli in which many of them were clad, owing to the coldness of the air. Fearlessly they jumped to the banks, and fought the Spaniards with lance and javelin, retreating into the water the moment the charge was over. Some crept up the road sides, and seizing the legs of the fugitives endeavored to drag them into the water. So crowded were the soldiers that they could scarcely defend themselves; aggressive movements were out of the question.

Repeated orders had been transmitted to Magarino to hurry forward the removal of his bridge to the second channel, and, seeing no more soldiers on the opposite bank of the first opening, he prepared to obey, but the structure had been so deeply imbedded in the banks from the heavy traffic that his men labored for some time in vain to lift it, exposed all the while to a fierce onslaught. Finally, after a number of the devoted band had succumbed, the bridge was released, but before it could be drawn over the causeway the enemy had borne it down at the other end so as effectually to wreck it.[829] The loss of the bridge was a great calamity, and was so regarded by the troops, hemmed in as they were between two deep channels, on a causeway which in width would hold only twenty men in a line. On all sides were enemies thirsting for blood. Presently a rush was made for the second channel, where the soldiers had already begun, in face of the foe, to cross on a single beam, which had been left intact when the bridge was destroyed. As this was an exceedingly slow process, many took to the water, only to receive their death-blow at the hands of the watermen. Some were taken prisoners; some sank beneath their burden of gold; the horses found a ford on one side where the water was not above the saddle.

The canoes, however, were as numerous here as elsewhere, and their occupants as determined; and the horsemen had the greatest trouble to keep their seats while resisting them. The general, being at the head, suffered most. At one time some Indians seized him by the legs and tried to drag him off. The footing of the horse being so insecure, the attempt would probably have succeeded but for the prompt aid of Antonio de Quiñones, and Texmaxahuitzin, a Tlascaltec, known afterward as Antonio. Olid, who also came to the rescue, was almost overpowered, but managed to free himself by means of backhanded blows from his muscular arm. One of the cavalry, Juan de Salazar, the page of Cortés, then took the lead to clear the way for the rest, only to fall a victim to his zeal. The next moment his master had gained the bank, and thereupon directed the troops by the ford.[830]

Thus in the darkness the wild roar of battle continued, the commingling shouts and strokes of combatants falling on the distant ear as one continuous moan. The canoes now pressed on the fugitives in greater number at the ford than in the channel. Sandoval, with his party, had swum the channel before the Mexicans assembled there in great numbers, and was now leading the van down the causeway, scattering the assailants right and left. Little regular fighting was attempted, the Spaniards being intent on escaping and the Mexicans quickly yielding before the cavalry, taking refuge in and round the canoes. With greater hardihood and success, however, they harassed those on foot. On reaching the next channel, which was the last, the fugitives found with dismay that it was wider and deeper than the others, and with bitter regret they saw their mistake in not bringing three portable bridges. The enemy was here also gathering in ever increasing force, to watch the death trap. Every effort to clear a passage was stubbornly resisted, and, the soldiers growing more irresolute, a rider was sent to bring Cortés. Before he arrived, however, Sandoval had already plunged in with a number of the cavalry, followed by foot-soldiers, who seized the opportunity to fall into the wake, by either holding on to the trappings of the horses or striking out for themselves. The passage was extremely difficult, and more than one horseman reeled and fell, from the united pressure of friends and foes. Those who followed suffered yet more, being pushed down by comrades, struck by clubs and stones, pierced by spears, or, most horrible of all, drawn in by dusky boatmen, who carefully guarded them for the dread stone of sacrifice.

With five horsemen Cortés led a body of one hundred infantry to the mainland. Accompanying this force was a number of carriers with treasures secured by the general and his friends. Leaving the gold in charge of Jaramillo, with orders to hold the entrance of the causeway against assailants from the shore, Cortés returned to the channel where Sandoval had taken a stand to keep clear the bank and protect the passage. Tidings coming that Alvarado was in danger, Cortés proceeded to the rear, beyond the second channel, and found it hotly contested. His opportune arrival infused fresh courage, as with gallant charges he relieved the troops from the terrible pressure. He looked in vain for many comrades who had been placed at this post, and would have gone in search of them had not Alvarado assured him that all the living were there. He was told that the guns reserved for the rear had for a while been directed with sweeping effect against the ever growing masses of warriors around them; but finally a simultaneous attack from the canoe crews on either side, and from the land forces to the rear, impelled by their own volume, had overwhelmed the narrow columns nearest the city, together with their cannon, killing and capturing a large number, and throwing the rest into the panic-stricken condition from which he had just extricated them.

Leaving Alvarado to cover the rear as best he could, Cortés hastened to direct the passage of the middle channel. What a sight was there! Of all the bloody terrors of that dark, sorrowful night, this was the most terrible! A bridge had been wanting, and behold, the bridge was there! With dead and living fugitives the chasm on either side the slippery beam had been filled,[831] and now the soldiers and allies were rushing, heedless of the groans beneath them, across this gory support, still narrow and full of gaps, to be filled by the next tripping fugitive. Scattered pell-mell on the bank lay the baggage and artillery, abandoned by the fleeing carriers, which, proving only an obstruction, Cortés ordered it thrown into the channel in order to widen the crossing.

But the end was not yet. Great as had been the woe, it was yet to be increased at the last and wider channel. Here was indeed a yawning abyss, having likewise a single remaining beam, whose narrow slippery surface served rather as a snare than a support.[832] The necessarily slow motion of the train had enabled the Mexicans to come up in swarms, and like sharks surround the chasm. Harassed on every side, and with an avalanche rolling against the rear, the retreating thought only of escaping the new danger, and at once. They threw aside their arms and treasures and plunged in, bearing one another down regardless of any claims of friendship or humanity. And woful to hear were the heart-rending cries from that pit of Acheron. Some begged help of Mary and Santiago; some cursed their fate and him who had brought them to it, while many sank with mute despair into the arms of death; and over all roared the wild cries and insults of the Mexicans. In strong contrast to the panic-stricken men appeared a woman, María de Estrada, who, with shield and sword, faced the enemy like a lioness, standing forth among the men as a leader, and astonishing friend and foe with her prowess.[833]

Cortés did all he could, as became an able commander and valiant soldier, to save his men. He was indefatigable in his efforts, being everywhere present, encouraging, guiding, and protecting. Yet his position was most trying; there were that night so many brave soldiers given over to despair, so many ears deaf to commands and prudent counsel. Unable to do more at the channels, he hastened to look to those who had crossed and were proceeding in straggling bands to join Jaramillo. Heedless of companies or officers, the soldiers had banded in parties of a score or two, and sword in hand, where this had not been thrown away, they were hurrying down the causeway.[834] The assailants fell off somewhat beyond the last channel, and finding the advance comparatively safe, guided by his soldierly impulses Cortés again returned with a few horsemen[835] and foot-soldiers to cover the remnant of the army. The rear, composed chiefly of the Narvaez party, were approaching the last channel, but under the continued onslaught panic had seized them. They made hardly an effort to defend themselves, and like the Indians during the massacre by Alvarado they huddled one against the other, offering their backs as a target for unsparing attack. Among this number was the loyal and noble Velazquez de Leon, who shared with the Tonatiuh the command of this section. How he fell is not known, but he never crossed the last breach.[836]

Alvarado had been wounded and had lost his horse, in common with most of his party. Finding it impossible to control the men, he gathered a small band round him and sought the channel, leaving the rest to look to themselves.[837] On reaching the spot he saw a confused mass of struggling humanity in the water, but the solitary beam which spanned it was vacant, and steadying himself with his lance he sprang swiftly across. Narrow and slippery as was the beam, it was no insignificant feat for a wounded man to cross upon it, but time magnified the performance to something miraculous. When Alvarado came to the channel, it is related, no friendly beam spanned the wide, deep gap. His life turned on brief resolve and instant action. Lithe, strong, and determined, even though wounded, he was not yet ready to yield all. With a searching glance into the troubled pool and across the awful chasm he stepped back for a preparatory spring. Then, rushing forward, he planted the long pike upon the yielding débris and vaulted across, to the wonder of all witnesses. The Indians, says Camargo, prostrated themselves in admiration, and tearing up grass, ate it, with the exclamation, “Truly, this man is the Tonatiuh!” So runs the story, preserved by tradition, and by the name yet given to the spot, ‘El Salto de Alvarado.’[838]

Cortés and his small band of rescuers came up as Alvarado appeared, pike in hand and bleeding, accompanied by a few stragglers.[839] Among these was Juan Tirado, who, in gratitude for his deliverance, erected at this bridge after the conquest a hermitage to San Acacio, known also as De los Mártires—martyrs to avarice, as Torquemada intimates.[840] The badly wounded were now mounted behind the horsemen,[841] and repelling the foes who still pressed on them, Cortés in person covered the remnant of the army in its retreat toward Tlacopan,[842] losing in this final struggle the gallant Captain Morla.[843] The route lay through Popotla village or suburb; and here, according to tradition, Cortés seated himself on a stone to weep over the misfortunes of this Sorrowful Night.[844]

By a similar process of annealing, gold is made soft and iron hard; so by misfortune the wise man is made wiser while the fool is hardened in his folly.