History of the Indians, of North and South America

by Samuel G. Goodrich

Their plans were well laid. They prepared an ambush, allowed Cortés to pass the frontier, and then, after a little skirmishing, suddenly fell upon him with an overwhelming force, which to the astonished view of the Spaniards appeared to number 100,000 men. Notwithstanding the immense odds opposed to them, the Spaniards bravely maintained their ground; and at length, after a desperate conflict, the Tlascalans, daunted by the horses and the fire-arms of the Spaniards, to which they were unaccustomed, and disheartened by the havoc they sustained in this to them novel species of warfare, retreated. Among the slain were eight of their principal chiefs. On the side of the Spaniards the loss was inconsiderable.

Thinking that this experience of the prowess of the Spaniards might have wrought a change in the disposition of the Tlascalans towards him, Cortés now determined to send an embassy to their camp with overtures of peace. The proposals were promptly rejected, and a message of defiance was returned from the Tlascalan general. The next day another battle followed, the odds being even greater than in the former engagement; but Spanish prowess, aided by dissensions in the Tlascalan camp, again proved victorious.

The Tlascalans, thus repulsed, were assured by their priests, that their enemies, being children of the sun, received strength from his beams by day, and therefore must be attacked in the night; and that, being withdrawn from his rays, their vigor declined, and they faded and became like other men. A renewed trial, however, proved the falsity of this assertion, and, after desperate efforts against the invading foe, the Tlascalans were compelled to sue for peace. A treaty of alliance was formed for mutual protection, and Cortés and his troops were received, as beings of a superior order, into the city of Tlascala.

After recruiting himself for twenty days at Tlascala, during which time Cortés sought to gain all the information he could respecting the condition of the Mexican empire, he prepared to resume his march. During his stay, the Tlascalans yielded readily to all his requests and commands, except the one by which they were required to dethrone their own gods, and substitute the objects of the Spaniards’ worship. Cortés, indignant at their refusal, was going to effect his object by force, had he not been restrained by the prudence of his chaplain, Olmedo, who represented to him the danger of such an attempt. The Tlascalans, therefore, were left to their own religious rites and objects of worship.

Cortés, accompanied by 6,000 of them, now directed his course towards Cholula. This place was only six leagues distant from Tlascala, was formerly an independent state, and had been but lately subjected to the Mexican empire. It was considered by all the people around as a peculiarly holy place, the sanctuary or principal seat of their gods, to which pilgrimages were made, and in whose temple even more human victims were sacrificed than in that of Mexico. Montezuma professed now to be willing to receive Cortés in his capital. He had, however, laid a deep plot for the extermination of his enemies. They were to be received into Cholula under the mask of friendship, and, when not expecting it, a vigorous onset was to be made on them from every quarter, while, by means of pits dug, and barricades erected, and large collections of stones on the tops of the temples, their retreat would be cut off, and their ruin completed. Cortés was forewarned of the treachery, and took decisive measures to defeat the project. He arrested some of their chief priests, and thus obtained a confession of the meditated crime, drew up his troops, seized the magistrates and chief citizens, and, on a preconcerted signal, both the Spaniards and Tlascalans poured upon the multitude, who were so amazed, that they were unable to offer any resistance. The streets were filled with blood and carnage. The temples were set on fire, and many of the priests and chiefs perished in the flames. More than 6,000 Cholulans are said to have fallen in the massacre, without the loss of a single Spaniard. The magistrates were then released, and commanded to recall the people, who had, in the mean time, fled in every direction. After so terrible a lesson, they dared not disobey the command of one who seemed to them of a character something more than human, and the city was soon filled again with those who yielded their service to the very men who had so mercilessly butchered their friends and relatives.

Cholula was but twenty leagues from Mexico, and Cortés, on his march, was everywhere hailed as a deliverer, who came to free the people from the oppression of the Mexican yoke. Complaints were made of Montezuma and his governors, and Cortés was encouraged in the belief of the ultimate success of his enterprise against so mighty a monarchy. Without entering into the details of his march, it is enough to say, that, on crossing the Sierra of Ahualco, the valley of Mexico lay outstretched below, and the city, the object of his schemes, with its temples, and walls, and palaces, was in full view before him.

While the Spanish adventurer became more bold as he proceeded, the Mexican monarch, on the other hand, seems to have grown more irresolute and timid. The rapid march of the new enemy, the success which had crowned his arms, his sagacity in detecting the plans for his defeat,—all these things, combined with the traditions to which allusion has been made, seem to have withheld Montezuma from that wise and valiant course which might have been expected from the descendant of a long line of brave men. Had Montezuma the First been in his place, as the adversary with whom Cortés was to contend, the result might have been different.

As the Spaniards approached Mexico, they were met by 1,000 persons of high rank adorned with plumes and clothed in fine cotton mantles. These saluted Cortés after the manner of their country, and announced the approach of Montezuma. Next came two hundred persons dressed alike, with large plumes, marching two and two, in deep silence, and barefooted, with their eyes fixed on the ground. Then came a company of still higher rank in their most costly and splendid attire, in the midst of whom was Montezuma, borne on the shoulders of four of his principal favorites, while others supported a canopy of curious workmanship above his head. Before him marched three officers, bearing rods of gold, which they lifted up on high at certain intervals, as a signal for the people to bow and hide their faces, as unworthy to look on so glorious a monarch. As he drew near, Cortés dismounted, and respectfully advanced to meet him. Montezuma likewise alighted, the ground being covered with cotton cloths, and, leaning on the arm of an attendant, proceeded at a slow pace. For the first time, the invader and the monarch stood face to face. They made their salutations, Cortés after the European fashion, and the Mexican by touching the earth with his hand, and kissing it. This condescension in so mighty a monarch only tended to confirm his people in their belief, that the Spaniards belonged to a superior race; and, as they passed along, these latter heard themselves often called Teules, or gods.