The adventures of Hernan Cortes, the conqueror of Mexico

by Francis L. Hawks

After a march of two leagues, the Spaniards came to a stone wall, which in former days had been thrown up by the Tlascalans to stop the invaders from Mexico. Finding no enemy, they easily crossed the wall and pressed on. It was not long now before the advanced guard of the army saw some of the Tlascalan troops, and had a slight skirmish. In a little time, as Cortes came forward with the main body, three thousand Tlascalans rushed from an ambush and poured in their arrows upon them. The Spaniards met this valiantly. After an obstinate struggle, the Indians were forced to give way and make their retreat. Yet Cortes marked that their retreat was made in an orderly and fearless manner, unlike the flight of most of the savages whom he had met; and he felt at once that he had to deal with no common Indians. He began therefore to be very particular in choosing the spots where his army should halt, and guarding the encampments through the night; and gave special command to the troops by no means to separate on their marches, but to proceed in solid and compact order.

The next day he was met by six thousand Tlascalans. These instantly attacked him, filling the air with their arrows, and making the plain echo with their yells, drums, and trumpets. But the cannons made sad havoc among them, and in a little time they gladly retreated to the top of a hill in the distance, from which they soon disappeared. Following on, Cortes reached at length the same height, when the whole Tlascalan army burst upon his sight. The plain far and wide was covered with the multitude. Forty thousand men were there, under the command of Xicotencatl, the general-in-chief of the Tlascalan republic. Undismayed by the numbers, he commanded his men to keep together at all hazards, and commenced at once descending the hill, amid flights of stones and arrows. They reached the plain: the cavalry and artillery were fairly brought into the action, and once more, after an hour’s hard fight, the Tlascalans retreated before them. This was an unfortunate day for the Tlascalans; multitudes of their men were slain—how many, it is impossible to say, for, like all Indians, they carried off their dead to conceal their losses. Eight of their chiefs fell, while two were made prisoners. The Spaniards had fifteen men wounded, of whom only one died. One of their horses, however, was killed. The Indians carried the body away in triumph, and, cutting it in pieces, sent parts of it to all the cities of Tlascala.

Though victorious, Cortes was not satisfied with this hard struggle. The loss of one man was sorely felt by him; and he felt, moreover, that if other nations should by any chance join the Tlascalans, there was no hope of success to his enterprise. He desired peace, therefore, and accordingly sent his two prisoners to their countrymen with offers of peace. To this friendly message, Xicotencatl only sent back this bold answer:—“Bid them proceed to Tlascala, where the peace they shall meet from us shall be displayed by the sacrifice of their hearts and blood to the gods, and of their bodies to our feasts.”

Cortes now very coolly informed his men that they were to make ready for another battle; and all that night they were busy in preparing their arms, ammunition, &c., and in making confession of their sins, and other acts of devotion. When morning dawned, they resumed their march, even the wounded men taking their places in the ranks. Ere long, they came again in sight of the Tlascalan army. It covered the plain for two leagues: there were no less than fifty thousand men now gathered to oppose them; the army was made up of five divisions, each division being under the command of a chief, and the whole led on by the general Xicotencatl. His banner, bearing a large white bird like a spread ostrich, was proudly carried before him. As the Spaniards came near, the Indians commenced the battle with a tremendous discharge of arrows, darts, and stones, and then, amid shouts and yells as usual, rushed directly upon them. The artillery-men at once opened their cannons upon them, while the musketeers and crossbow-men kept up a continual fire, literally cutting down the multitude in heaps. Still the raging Tlascalans pushed onward without fear, and succeeded, for a moment, in breaking through the Spanish lines. It required all the courage and skill of Cortes to bring his men back to their position. The cavalry now rushed over the plain, sweeping down masses before them. Yet the brave Tlascalans pressed on with their numbers. Wherever a man fell dead, it seemed another arose with fiercer spirit to revenge his death. Thus the battle raged furiously on both sides. At length it was seen by the Tlascalans that one of their divisions kept out of the fight, nor could be pressed into it—the chief who headed it being provoked with Xicotencatl. This discouraged them: they began to fall back, when one of their principal chiefs fell dead, and they were completely dismayed—the battle was ended. But for these circumstances, with all his skill and courage, Cortes had hardly prevailed against such numbers. It is very remarkable that in this fierce struggle the Spaniards had only one man killed. Seventy of their men, however, together with all their horses, were wounded. Some died of their wounds afterwards.

On the next morning, Cortes sent another message to the Tlascalans, demanding that he should be allowed to pass quietly through their territory, and threatening to desolate their whole country if they refused. But their fierce chiefs were not frightened: they did not yet feel that they were conquered, and determined to try his strength again. They now called together their priests, and demanded of them what could be the cause of their terrible defeat, and in what way they were to drive the invaders from their country. After performing many rites and sacrifices, the priests came forward and declared that the Spaniards were men like themselves, but were created by the heat of the sun in the regions of the East; that during the day they were not to be conquered, because they were guarded by the sun: at night they were not thus protected, and might then be easily overcome.

The Tlascalans made ready again. Numbers soon gathered themselves, under the command of Xicotencatl, for an attack at night. As they drew near the Spanish camp, the sentinels marked them, the alarm was given, the cavalry rushed forth, and after another fight the astonished Tlascalans fled in dismay. They were now convinced that the Spaniards were Teules—the multitudes began to cry out that it was time to make peace; that the Spaniards were invincible. Another fierce message came from Cortes, and the senate was willing to have peace. Xicotencatl, in a rage, refused for a long time to come to any terms; he was not used to being conquered; but at last his proud spirit bent, and he consented to lay down his arms.

They were now at a loss to settle how they should approach the Spanish chief; they did not know what to think of him. He must be gentle and kind, for he sometimes released his prisoners of war, contrary to their way of sacrificing and eating them; then again they thought he must be cruel and bloodthirsty, for they remembered that fifty spies sent out by Xicotencatl had once approached his camp too closely, and, by his order, their hands were instantly cut off. Then, too, his fierce messages, and the tremendous slaughter that he had made among them, were calculated to frighten them. At length, forty of their chief men were started off, loaded with a variety of presents, some of which they hoped might please him, whatever he might be. As they came near, one of them advanced to Cortes, and said: “If you are Teules, as it is said, and desire human sacrifices, take the flesh of these slaves and eat: shed their blood and drink. If you are gods of a kind nature, here is a gift of incense and feathers; and if you are men, we bring you meat and bread for your nourishment.” Soon after this, a large number of Tlascalans were seen approaching. Cortes supposed that they were coming for purposes of peace, yet instantly ordered his men to arms. Four of them now came forward with marks of profound respect, and offered him incense. They came, on the part of the Tlascalan senate, to make peace with him and his people. The Tlascalans (they declared) had opposed them only because they thought they were the friends of the cruel tyrant Montezuma, and were now sorry for it: they begged that they might be taken under the protection of Cortes. The Spanish chief quickly accepted their terms, and offered his protection and friendship to the whole republic. On the 23d of September (thirty-four days after reaching their territory), he triumphantly entered the city of Tlascala, the capital of their empire.

It was fortunate for Cortes that the war was thus ended, for some of his men were beginning to be dissatisfied; they had borne very cruel hardships. Every night half of them were on guard, while the other half only slept on their armor, ready to start up at any cry of danger. Fifty-five had perished since they entered the country, many were sick with diseases of the climate, and many were suffering from their wounds. Cortes was himself unwell, though he did not confess it. The number and fierceness of the Tlascalans, while it surprised all, had alarmed some, and these lived in the continual fear that they would be taken and sacrificed to the gods. It is not surprising, therefore, that murmurings commenced, and that many begged that they might return to Cuba. But when the Tlascalans surrendered, all were animated with new courage. Then the earnest friendship and submission of the Tlascalans (for Cortes was received very warmly in their capital) roused their drooping spirits the more. It is said that these Indians even reverenced the Spaniards now, saying that they were born in heaven. Certain it is that the horses and riders were looked upon as supernatural monsters: they believed that these monsters devoured men in battle, and that the neighing of the horses was their call for prey. Even when all was explained to them, they still held this belief. Their kindness and fears together drove away all discontent from the murmurers. No man sighed longer for the home left behind: all were greedy for the glory before them.

The submission of the Tlascalans prompted Cortes to speak to them about giving up their religion, with all its bloody rites; for, strange as it may seem when we look at some of his acts, Cortes never lost sight of the thought that the spread of the gospel was a part of the business of his enterprise. The Tlascalans refused, saying that while “the God of the Spaniards might be very great, they trusted in the gods of their forefathers.” Upon this he was angry, and instantly prepared to carry out such a plan as before in the temple at Chempoalla. But Father Olmedo entreated that this might not be done. He declared that this was not the way to spread the gospel, and that he had looked on with horror at the scene in Chempoalla. Alvarado, Velasquez de Leon, and Lugo joined in the entreaty, and Cortes was at last persuaded not to attempt it. His anger, however, served one good purpose. In the temples there were some poor wretches kept in cages, fattening for sacrifices, and Cortes caused all these to be set free.

Having allowed his men sufficient time to rest at Tlascala, Cortes determined to resume his march for Mexico. Some Mexicans now came forward and urged him to march through Cholula, a large town, where he would be kindly received. But the Tlascalans were opposed to this; they declared that the Cholulans were a treacherous people, devoted entirely to the interests of Montezuma, and that he would necessarily find himself there in the midst of enemies. Still Cortes resolved to pass through Cholula. He was anxious to please the Mexicans, and at the same time to teach the Tlascalans that he feared no enemy, whether concealed or open. With six thousand Tlascalans, therefore, in addition to his former numbers, he started for Cholula.