History of Mexico, Volume 1, 1516-1521

by Hubert Howe Bancroft

For a while the horsemen had it all their own way, chiefly, as Cortés observes, because the enemy consisted of such disorganized masses as to prevent one another either from fighting or fleeing; but as they became more used to the Spanish tactics they offered firmer resistance. The horse of the general being so severely struck in the mouth as to become unmanageable, Cortés dismounted and turned it loose to seek another. The injured animal, seemingly imbued with its master’s spirit, dashed at the enemy in mad career, creating quite a panic in its course. The cavalry took advantage of the confusion to follow, partly with a view to secure the animal; after regaining the main body they indulged in a brief rest. The heat no less than the fighting had tired out both men and horses; but there was for them little respite, for no sooner had the foes observed their inaction than they closed in round them with renewed courage. “Thrust well and deep,” came the order to the soldiers, “for they are all chiefs!” And so they seemed, from their rich dress, their elaborate devices, and their glittering ornaments. Cortés now mounted a horse whose viciousness had hitherto consigned him to the baggage department,[883] and again the cavalry formed, this time in more compact order. But the enemy, ever relieved by fresh men, maintained the firmness with which they had begun the charge, and both horsemen and foot-soldiers found the pressure becoming greater and the fight hotter. Thus the battle continued during the greater part of the forenoon,[884] the natives evidently as fresh as ever, and the Spaniards visibly failing. “We thought surely that this was to be our last day,” writes Cortés, “in view of the great strength of the Indians and the little resistance they could find in us, tired as we were, and nearly all wounded, and faint with hunger.”

A feeling of suffocation and deathly despair comes over the Spaniards as the dusky host fold them in closer and yet fiercer embrace. Hot falls the blood-reeking breath upon their faces, as, flushed with success and sure of their victims, the foe lay hold of the Spaniards to drag them away to the sacrifice. Rare offerings to the gods, indeed, are these magnificent men! And such they will surely become if Mary, Santiago, or the ready genius of Cortés appears not quickly to the rescue! But how shall there be rescue? What rescue is there to the sinking ship alone in mid-ocean? Can this Cortés for the release of his comrades baffle death like Hercules for the release of Alcestis?

So it would seem. Behold yonder grand personage, borne aloft in open litter, high over the others, with plumed head-dress, and above it the gold-net standard, the tlahuizmatlaxopilli, set with precious feathers, and secured to his back by a staff, according to custom.[885] This is the generalissimo of all the native forces there gathered, and around him are the flower of the army in feathered armor of rich designs, guarding with zealous care the banner, and encouraging the rest to renewed efforts and brave deeds. Cortés sees him, and his purpose for weal or woe is fixed almost before his comrades are aware of the chieftain’s approach; for he comes as captain of the hounds to be in at the death of these Spanish foxes. Cortés is well aware of the importance attached by natives to the person of the general, and to the safe-keeping of the standard. In these centre all the hope of their armies: success is theirs so long as they remain; but once brought low, and the Indian regards all as lost. Even at this juncture Cortés does not fail to observe the increased firmness and spirit among the warriors as the banner approaches. Here, then, is the one chance more, which is all the brave man asks. With a quick motion to his mounted followers, pointing to the sacred insignia, and as if he would throw the whole might of Spain into his brief words, Cortés cries out: “Señores, let us break with them! In the name of God and St Peter, señores, let us close with them!” Not a man there but knew that the next moment would determine all, would determine the fate of every Spaniard in New Spain.

Throwing themselves with the compact force of one of their own cannon-balls against the heaving mass, they mow an instant path to the charmed centre. The wave of disorder strikes the sacred guard, while the unruly horse of Cortés, bearing him unresistingly onward, overturns the litter of the generalissimo, and hurls the bearers to the ground. “Victory!” shouts Cortés, when he recovers his breath; and “victory! victory!” echo his people, while Juan de Salamanca plunges his lance into the body of the prostrate chief, and seizing the sacred banner, presents it to the general as his rightful trophy.[886]

The welcome cry of Cortés electrified the whole Spanish line, while the warriors lately so triumphant stood stupefied with dismay. With the disappearance of the palladium their courage had fallen, while the Spanish soldiers, with the confidence and strength of joy, rushed from wing to wing upon them. The warriors wavered; then, with one more searching glance in the direction of the guiding emblem, they became convinced that their leader had indeed fallen. Consternation followed; the panic from the centre overtook the more distant, and valiantly as they had fought before, as cravenly did they now flee.[887]

Forgetful of wounds and hunger, and regardless of the imminent danger attending such a course, the Spaniards pursued the foolish fugitives, thrusting and slashing at them until they had killed twenty thousand—a round figure, truly, and one which accords well with the estimates of the entire force. But after all, what the natives had hitherto suffered must have been little compared with the present slaughter, for their dead lay very thick along the line of retreat. Hardly one among the Spaniards had come off scathless, while few of the poor Tlascaltecs were left to share in the rich spoils.[888]

After recalling the troops from their bloody pursuit, the first care of Cortés was to see that the wounded soldiers had rest and refreshment. Then a solemn thanksgiving service was held, and right earnestly did they all join in its offering. Cortés ascribed the victory to St Peter, as with his name on his lips he had made the miraculous charge. But Santiago was the soldiers’ favorite, as they declared he was present and fought with them; and near the village of Tenexcalco a chapel was afterward erected to commemorate his appearance.[889]

Obviously this battle was the most important so far in the New World; and it must ever be regarded as one of the most remarkable in history. The natives were probably much less numerous than the estimates of the boastful victors; still they were immensely superior in number and condition to the Spaniards, enfeebled by recent defeat, by wounds, and want. Further, the latter had no fire-arms wherewith to terrify the natives, only swords and pikes. Their main advantage lay in their horses, their discipline, and the genius of their leader;[890] all strengthened by the enthusiasm born of a national pride, and a certain knowledge that failure meant utter destruction.

Fatigued as all were, and weakened from battle, Cortés resolved nevertheless to push on toward Tlascala the same day, fearing that the enemy might be shamed into a rally, or receive such reinforcements to their already immense numbers as to encourage them to return. In this he was not mistaken, for Cuitlahuatzin had ordered Tezcuco, Chalco, and neighboring districts to send larger forces, and so insure an assumed victory for the Otumban army. The reinforcements appear to have been already in motion when news came of the defeat, accompanied by the rumor that a Tlascaltec army was on the way to aid the Spaniards. The hasty march eastward of the fugitives offered in itself sufficient encouragement for straggling marauders from the surrounding villages to follow in their wake and harass them with occasional missiles.[891]

By night the town of Temalacayocan[892] was reached, and here the army obtained some food and camped in and around the temple. Badly wounded as he was, Cortés took charge of the watch, for sleep had no power over his mind at that moment. Before him rose invitingly the ranges of the Tlascaltec border, where he hoped to find a haven. It was only hope, however; for Cortés came not as before, heralded as the invincible conqueror, to whose bravery and deeds the warlike republic was delighted to offer homage; nor with the vision of the mighty Montezuma bending before him; nor with the prospect of entering to assume control of a great empire. All this was changed. He had lost his former prestige, and could present himself only as a fugitive to seek protection for a remnant of his army. And this at the hands of those who might yet smart under the stigma of defeat by a handful, and who might now find it prudent and convenient to accept the friendship and wealth of the victorious Aztecs. What if the people of Tlascala should reject him? “We were not very confident in finding the natives of the said province faithful and friends of ours,” writes Cortés; “for we feared that they, on seeing us so dismembered, might seek our lives, in order to recover the liberty which they formerly enjoyed. This thought and fear kept us in as great an affliction as when we marched along harassed by those of Culúa.”[893] Nevertheless he sought to cheer his men with hopes for the best, and to remind them how necessary it was, now above all, to guard their conduct so as to give rise to no jealousies or unpleasantness, since even a petty quarrel might raise a whirlwind to overwhelm them. Should God, however, not permit them to rest in Tlascala, they must recall their many glorious victories over greater forces than could henceforth be brought against them, and be prepared with stout hearts and vigorous arms to meet the issue.