Robert Merry's museum, Volumes III-IV (1842)

by Various

In this state matters remained for about six months. Montezuma now reminded his visiters, that since they had obtained all that they required, it was time for them to depart from the capital. Cortez was not then in a situation openly to oppose this request. He, therefore, in order to gain time for reinforcements to arrive from Spain, replied that he intended to depart as soon as he should be able to build a sufficient number of ships, in place of those which had been burnt. This appeared so reasonable to the king, that he ordered him to be supplied with all the materials that he might want for this purpose.

While Cortez was in this state of suspense, he received the unwelcome news that a body of Spaniards, more than a thousand in number, had landed on the coast, sent by the governor of Cuba, who was his enemy, with orders to deprive him of his power, and send him, bound, to Cuba, to receive punishment as a traitor to his sovereign. This was a critical moment; but Cortez was not a man to be discouraged by any danger. He left a hundred and fifty men in the capital, directing them to keep a most watchful eye upon the king, and to use every means to preserve the city quiet during his absence. He then marched with the utmost celerity to the place where his enemies were encamped, took them by surprise, and made them all prisoners, with the loss of only two men. He then, by kind and friendly treatment, and glowing descriptions of the riches which they would obtain under his command, prevailed upon the whole army to enlist under his banners.

With this welcome reinforcement, he returned to Mexico, as hastily as he came; for he had received from Alvarado the alarming intelligence, that, in consequence of the cruelty of the Spaniards, the inhabitants had risen upon them, killed several, wounded more, and were closely besieging them in their quarters. Cortez, however, was suffered to enter the city unopposed. He was received by his countrymen with transports of joy, but he found that the reverence, with which the Mexicans once regarded him, was gone. The very next day, they attacked him with the utmost fury, and were not repulsed without the greatest difficulty. Two sallies, which the Spaniards afterwards made, were ineffectual.

Cortez now resolved to try a new expedient. When the Mexicans approached, the next morning, to renew the assault, they beheld their captive sovereign, who, in his royal robes, advanced to the battlements, and, while every tongue was mute, addressed them in behalf of the Spaniards, and exhorted them to cease from hostilities. For a moment, a profound silence reigned; but the Mexicans had lost the reverence which they bore toward their monarch, and they soon broke out into loud reproaches and execration of his cowardice. A volley of stones and arrows succeeded, one of which struck Montezuma on the temple, and he fell. The Mexicans, seized with horror and remorse at the effects of their rage, fled in terror from the walls. The unhappy king was borne to his apartments by his attendants, who strove to console him for his misfortune; but in vain. Broken-hearted at the disobedience of his subjects, and his own wretched situation, he tore the bandages from his breast, and refused all nourishment, till death speedily terminated his sufferings.

After the death of his royal captive, Cortez had no other resource than to retreat at once from the city. He made his preparations with all diligence, and, on the night of the 1st of July, 1520, set out on his march, hoping to withdraw unperceived. But he was fatally mistaken. All his motions were closely watched by the natives, and before he reached the middle of the causeway leading from the city, through the lake, he was suddenly attacked by them, both in front and rear—while from the canoes in the lake showers of arrows were poured upon them from unseen foes. The Spaniards, confounded by the darkness of the night, and the number of their enemies, after a slight resistance, broke, and fled in utter confusion. Many were slain; a number perished in the lake, and some fell into the hands of the enemy. The fate of the last was far the worst—for they were reserved to be sacrificed, with the most cruel tortures, to the gods of the Mexicans.

The next morning, when Cortez reviewed the miserable remnants of his troops, now reduced to less than half their former number, he is said to have wept at contemplating the ravages made among his brave followers in a single night, which was long known and remembered by the Spaniards, as the night of sorrow.

But the spirit of the Spanish leader was still unconquered; he encouraged his dejected followers by the hopes of future victories, and exhorted them to push on with all speed to Tlascala, where they would again be surrounded by their faithful friends. For six days they proceeded with the greatest difficulty, constantly skirmishing with small bodies of Mexicans, who shouted as they approached, “Go on, robbers, go to the place where you shall soon meet the vengeance due to your crimes.” The Spaniards were not long left in doubt as to the meaning of these words; for, reaching the top of an eminence before them, a spacious valley opened to their view, covered with a vast army, extending as far as the eye could reach. At the sight of this great multitude, many of the bravest Spaniards began to despair; but, encouraged by the words and example of their undaunted general, they advanced; their enemies gave way before them, but only to return again to the combat in another quarter. Hundreds fell, but hundreds appeared to supply their places; until the Spaniards were ready to sink under the fatigue of their unavailing efforts. At this time, Cortez observed near him the great standard of the Mexicans; and he recollected to have heard, that upon the fate of this depended the success of every battle. Collecting a few of his brave officers, whose horses were still capable of service, he dashed with tremendous force through the ranks of the enemy, slew their general, and seized the standard. The Mexicans, seeing the fall of their sacred banner, gave up at once all hope of victory, threw down their arms, and fled in every direction.

Cortez now continued his march, and soon arrived into the territories of the Tlascalans. By these faithful allies he was received with as much cordiality as ever, notwithstanding his reverses, and he immediately set about making preparations for the conquest of Mexico, with so much diligence, that, at the end of six months, he found himself at the head of more than 500 Spaniards, and about 10,000 Tlascalans and other Indians. He did not, however, undertake immediately the siege; he began by reducing, or gaining over to his cause, the smaller cities lying near the capital, and thus he gradually confined the Mexican power within smaller limits.

In the meantime, the Mexicans were not idle; directly after the death of Montezuma, his brother, Quetlevan, was raised to the throne. His reign was short; within a few months he was carried off by the small-pox—a distemper introduced into the New World by the Spaniards. He was succeeded by his nephew, Guatimozin, who had already given decisive proofs of his courage and capacity. Immediately upon his election, he applied himself to repairing and strengthening the fortifications of the city; large quantities of arms were manufactured, and an immense army was collected for the defence of the capital.

At length, all his preparations being completed, Cortez united all his forces for the last great effort; and the siege of Mexico, the longest and most arduous of all undertaken by the conquerors of America, was begun. By means of a small fleet, which he had caused to be constructed in the mountains of Tlascala, and transported thence by land, with great labor, he obtained entire possession of the lake; while on land, a constant succession of assaults and repulses were kept up on both sides, with the most obstinate valor. But the Spaniards gradually gained upon the natives, though the latter disputed every inch of ground with the courage of despair; nor would they listen to any proposals of surrendering, until three quarters of their city were laid in ruins, and four fifths of the population had perished by famine, pestilence, or the sword of the enemy.