Chapter IV

RENEWING his march, in a little time Cortes reached Xalacingo, on the borders of the Tlascalan dominions, and immediately prepared to send messengers into their country, to tell them of his arrival. Four Chempoallans of high rank were chosen for this purpose. Dressed after the manner of ambassadors (with cotton mantles full of knots at the ends), and bearing a long arrow tipped with white feathers, the symbol of peace,[7] they departed. Contrary to all expectation, they were received unkindly. The Tlascalans at once seized them, and prepared to sacrifice them to their gods. Fortunately, through the neglect of the guard placed over them, they managed to escape, and hurried back to the Spanish camp with their awful story. The Tlascalans were angry, and swore that they would sacrifice the Spaniards, and all who should assist them, to the gods; and were now gathering in vast numbers to stop their progress.

This news surprised Cortes. He had supposed that the warlike Tlascalans would have welcomed him as a strong ally to aid them in their opposition to Montezuma; and that, at least, their friendship with the Chempoallans and Totonacas would have made them his friends. He was at a loss to know the meaning of their conduct: perhaps his messengers had proved treacherous; possibly the Tlascalans might have supposed that he was a secret friend to Montezuma; or it might be that they had heard of what he had done in the temple at Chempoalla, and were determined upon revenge. These thoughts passed rapidly through his mind; but the truth is, he was wrong in all: he had mistaken the character of the Tlascalans. They were a warlike, independent people. They had once been governed by kings, but had shaken off the yoke, and formed themselves into a sort of republic. They had divided themselves into districts: each district had its separate ruler, who was elected by the people, and who represented his province in the general senate of Tlascala. It was not to be supposed that people who had thus struggled for independence and made a government of their own, would receive a band of armed strangers kindly; and had Cortes known as much of them, he would hardly have expected it.

But surprise could not help him. He knew that a struggle was before him, and, without a sign of fear, he rallied his men for their march into Tlascala. Particular instructions were given to the different troops of his army, and then their beautiful standard was raised before them. Cortes, pointing to the banner, cried out, “Spaniards! follow boldly the standard of the Holy Cross, through which we shall conquer;” and the soldiers with one accord shouted, “On! on! in the name of God, in whom alone we place our trust.”

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.

This town of Cholula was greatly celebrated for the temple of Quetzalcoatl that stood there. It was looked upon as the most sacred temple of the empire. Multitudes of pilgrims continually went there, and the sacrifices were almost daily. It is said that the Indians believed that this temple was built over secret springs of water, and that by pulling it down, these springs would burst forth into great rivers, and flood the whole surrounding country.[8] Some have supposed that this belief prompted the Mexicans to advise Cortes to go there: the secret springs of Quetzalcoatl were to be let loose, and prove the sure destruction of himself and his army.

As Cortes came near this town, the chiefs and priests marched out to meet him, bearing censers in their hands, and accompanied by a band of music. They received the Spaniards with profound respect; but when they saw the Tlascalans, they told Cortes plainly that all might enter their city except these, their old and bitter enemies. Cortes did not object to this; and at once ordering the Tlascalans to remain encamped outside, with great ceremony he entered Cholula. It was not a great while now before he began to be dissatisfied, and to suspect that the Tlascalans were right as to the character of these people; supplies of provisions began to be scantily furnished, and at last the Spaniards were left with nothing but wood and water. Ere long, some of the Chempoallans came to him and said that they had found secret pitfalls near the Spanish camp. These were large holes dug in the ground, having sharp stakes at the bottom, and covered over loosely with earth. Then some of the Tlascalans entered the city in disguise, and informed him that they had seen large numbers of women and children, loaded with valuable things, leaving the city by night; moreover, that six children had just been sacrificed in the temple, and this was a sure sign that the Cholulans intended something. Besides this, they had observed that many stones and darts had been collected on the tops of the temples. All this roused his suspicions very strongly. At length, Doña Marina came to him with certain information. She had learned the whole plan of the conspiracy. It seems that a Cholulan lady of high rank had become attached to her, and, desirous of saving Her life, told her of the plot, that she might escape. Twenty thousand Mexicans were at a short distance from the city, ready at a certain signal to join the Cholulans in the general massacre of the Spaniards. Cortes instantly ordered some of the chief priests to be seized; and when they discovered that the Spaniards, or _Teules_, as they called them, knew everything, they confessed the whole. The enmity and treachery of the Cholulans were now certain.

In his indignation and rage, at the first moment, Cortes was at a loss what to do; at the next, he resolved upon signal vengeance. No time was to be lost. His principal officers were at once called together and told of the danger which threatened them, and his determination to be revenged. Some were for retreating to Tlascala, but most of them were ready heart and hand to join Cortes in his plan. He immediately ordered the Tlascalans to storm the city at the dawn of the next day, and to spare nothing but the women and children; and then informed the Cholulans that he intended to resume his march on the following morning.

These last were greatly delighted on hearing this, and they made haste to carry out their plot. At the break of day, the chiefs, with forty Cholulans, came into the open square in front of the Spanish encampment, and presently an immense number of troops rushed in and joined them. Cortes now mounted his horse and addressed them, telling them of the blackness and extent of their treachery. He knew all about it: the Spaniards (he said) had entered their city under a promise of friendship, and since their entrance had not done one unkind act towards the Cholulans; that they had behaved peaceably, and in every way proved that they meant no harm; that at their request he had even ordered a part of his army (the Tlascalans) to keep outside of the city; and he now understood very well what they meant by that request--it was only made to separate the Spaniards from their friends, that they might the more easily destroy them. “If (cried Cortes) you had a natural hatred to men from whom you had received no wrong, why not oppose us manfully and bravely in the field, like the Tlascalans, instead of resorting to means so cowardly and so treacherous to show your hatred and effect our destruction? The victory which your gods have promised you, is beyond their power; the bloody sacrifices which you expected to offer up to them, cannot be accomplished; and the end of this dark plot will only be to turn the intended ruin against the guilty heads of its contrivers.”

The chiefs were completely confounded; they did not deny what he said, but at once commenced making excuses, saying that all was done by the order of Montezuma. But Cortes would have no excuse. He instantly ordered a musket to be fired; this was the signal to his men. The Spaniards sprang upon them, and the slaughter commenced; the whole square was soon a scene of horror. Multitudes were slain upon the spot, while some who fled only fell into the hands of the enraged Tlascalans, who were now pouring into the city. Some rushed to the temple of Quetzalcoatl and razed it to the ground, hoping that the waters would burst out and drown the Spaniards. But the rivers would not flow. They were in despair. Other temples were filled with crowds, entreating the gods to save them. The Spaniards now sallied from their quarters, and swept the streets with their artillery, literally piling them with the dead. Then they rushed to the temples, and demanded the poor wretches there to surrender. A proud and scornful answer was sent back to the summons: the temples were soon wrapped in flames; the Spaniards pressed on, and fire and sword soon completed the massacre. It is said that only one man surrendered; the rest choosing even to perish in the flames, or to throw themselves from the tops of the temples. Cholula was desolate: the streets rolled with the blood of six thousand men; dead bodies and half-burnt corpses lay scattered throughout them.

This horrid slaughter being ended, the Spaniards and Tlascalans now commenced plundering the houses and stripping the temples of all that was left. The savage ferocity of these last was almost beyond bounds. At length the heart of Cortes was moved with pity; he looked upon the scene of havoc with horror. He now ordered Xicotencatl, who was there with twenty thousand men, to leave the place, as he should need him no longer; and then issued his proclamation, promising pardon to all who had escaped the massacre, and inviting them to return to their homes. Some were now seen creeping from the masses of the dead, where they had lain wounded, and women and children came in from the mountains where they had fled. The Tlascalans were made to deliver up all their prisoners, and peace was established between them and the Cholulans, Cortes then appointed a brother of the late Cacique (who had been killed in the massacre) to rule over the city, and in sorrow declared to the Cholulans who were left, that the treacherous conduct of their people had alone forced him to this terrible work of slaughter.

Well might Cortes be sorry for what was done. Six thousand of his fellow-beings lay butchered before him.[9] All that can be said for him is, that he may have thought his conduct necessary for his own safety, and perhaps the Tlascalans carried the slaughter further than he intended. Yet this, which is all, is but a poor excuse for him. Perhaps it was his sorrow which prompted him earnestly to beg the Cholulans to leave off their bloody sacrifices and receive the Christian religion, and when they refused, to violate their temples no further than by setting free the poor wretches fastened in the cages for sacrifices.