After being guest of the Mexican Emperor for a week, CortÉs resolved to carry out a most daring and unprecedented scheme—a purely "Napoleonic movement," such as could scarcely have entered the brain of any general ancient or modern. He argued with himself that a quarrel might at any moment break out between his men and the citizens; the Spaniards again could not remain long quiet unless actively employed; and, thirdly, there was still greater danger with the Tlascalans, "a fierce race now in daily contact with a nation that regards them with loathing and detestation." Lastly, the Governor of Cuba, already grossly offended with CortÉs, might at any moment send after him a sufficient army to wrest from him the glory of conquest. CortÉs therefore formed the daring resolve to seize Montezuma in his palace and carry him as a prisoner to the Spanish quarters. He hoped thus to have in his own hands the supreme management of affairs, and at the same time secure his own safety with such a "sacred pledge" in keeping.

It was necessary to find a pretext for seizing the hospitable Montezuma. News had already come to CortÉs, when at Cholula, that Escalante, whom he had left in charge of Vera Cruz, had been defeated by the Aztecs in a pitched battle, and that the head of a Spaniard, then slain, had been sent to the Emperor, after being shown in triumph throughout some of the chief cities.

CortÉs asked an audience from Montezuma, and that being readily granted, he prepared for his plot by having a large body of armed men posted in the courtyard. Choosing five companions of tried courage, CortÉs then entered the palace, and after being graciously received, told Montezuma that he knew of the treachery that had taken place near the coast, and that the Emperor was said to be the cause.

The Emperor said that such a charge could only have been concocted by his enemies. He agreed with the proposal of CortÉs to summon the Aztec chief who was accused of treachery to the garrison at Vera Cruz; and was then persuaded to transfer his residence to the palace occupied by the Spaniards. He was there received and treated with ostentatious respect; but his people observed that in front of the palace there was constantly posted a patrol of sixty soldiers, with another equally large in the rear.

When the Aztec chief arrived from the coast, he and his sixteen Aztec companions were condemned to be burned alive before the palace.

The next daring act of the Spanish general was to order iron fetters to be fastened on Montezuma's ankles. The great Emperor seemed struck with stupor and spoke never a word. Meanwhile the Aztec chiefs were executed in the courtyard without interruption, the populace imagining the sentence had been passed upon them by Montezuma, and the victims submitting to their fate without a murmur.

CortÉs returning then to the room where Montezuma was imprisoned, unclasped the fetters and said he was now at liberty to return to his own palace. The Emperor, however, declined the offer.

The instinctive sense of human sympathy must have frequently been not only repressed but extinguished by all the great conquering generals who have crushed nations under foot. Besides those of prehistoric times in Asia and Europe, we have examples in Alexander the Greek, Julius CÆsar the Roman, CortÉs and Pizarro the Spaniards, Frederick the Prussian, and Napoleon the Corsican.

The great French general consciously aimed at dramatic effect in his exploits, but how paltry his seizing the Duc d'Enghien at dead of night by a troop of soldiers, or his coercing the King of Spain to resign his sovereignty after inducing him to cross the border into France. In the unparalleled case of CortÉs, a powerful emperor is seized by a few strangers at noonday and carried off a prisoner without opposition or bloodshed. So extraordinary a transaction, says Robertson, would appear "extravagant beyond the bounds of probability" were it not that all the circumstances are "authenticated by the most unquestionable evidence."

The nephew of Montezuma, Cakama, the lord of Tezcuco, had been closely watching all the motions of the Spaniards. He "beheld with indignation and contempt the abject condition of his uncle; and now set about forming a league with several of the neighboring caziques to break the detested yoke of the Spaniards." News of this league reached the ears of CortÉs, and arresting him with the permission of Montezuma, he deposed him, and appointed a younger brother in his place. The other caziques were seized, each in his own city, and brought to Mexico, where CortÉs placed them in strict confinement along with Cakama.

The next step taken by CortÉs was to demand from Montezuma an acknowledgment of the supremacy of the Spanish Emperor. The Aztec monarch and chief caziques easily granted this; and even agreed that a gratuity should be sent by each of them as proof of loyalty. Collectors were sent out, and "in a few weeks most of them returned, bringing back large quantities of gold and silver plate, rich stuffs, etc." To this Montezuma added a huge hoard, the treasures of his father. When brought into the quarters, the gold alone was sufficient to make three great heaps. It consisted partly of native grains, and partly of bars; but the greatest portion was in utensils, and various kinds of ornaments and curious toys, together with imitations of birds, insects, or flowers, executed with uncommon truth and delicacy. There were also quantities of collars, bracelets, wands, fans, and other trinkets, in which the gold and feather-work were richly powdered with pearls and precious stones. Montezuma expressed regret that the treasure was no larger; he had "diminished it," he said, "by his former gifts to the white men."

The Spaniards gazed on this display of riches, far exceeding all hitherto seen in the New World—though small compared with the quantity of treasure found in Peru. The whole amount of this Mexican gift was about £1,417,000, according to Prescott, Dr. Robertson making it smaller.

It was no easy task to divide the spoil. A fifth had to be deducted for the Crown, and an equal share went to the general, besides a "large sum to indemnify him and the Governor of Cuba for the charges of the expedition and the loss of the fleet. The garrison of Vera Cruz was also to be provided for. The cavalry, musketeers, and crossbowmen each received double pay." Thus for each of the common soldiers there was only 100 gold pesos—i. e., £2-5/8 X 100 = £262 10s. To many this share seemed paltry, compared with their expectations; and it required all the tact and authority of CortÉs to quell the grumbling.

There still remained one important object of the Spanish invasion, an object which CortÉs as a good Catholic dared not overlook—the conversion of the Aztec nation from heathenism. The bloody ritual of the teocallis was still observed in every city. CortÉs waited on Montezuma, urging a request that the great temple be assigned for public worship according to the Christian rites.

Montezuma was evidently much alarmed, declaring that his people would never allow such a profanation, but at last, after consulting the priest, agreed that one of the sanctuaries on the summit of the temple should be granted to the Christians as a place of worship.

An altar was raised, surmounted by a crucifix and the image of the Virgin. The whole army ascended the steps in solemn procession and listened with silent reverence to the service of the mass. In conclusion, "as the beautiful Te Deum rose toward heaven, CortÉs and his soldiers kneeling on the ground, with tears streaming from their eyes, poured forth their gratitude to the Almighty for this glorious triumph of the cross." Such a union of heathenism and Christianity was too unnatural to continue.

A few days later the Emperor sent for CortÉs and earnestly advised him to leave the country at once. CortÉs replied that ships were necessary. Montezuma agreed to supply timber and workmen, and in a short time the construction of several ships was begun at Vera Cruz on the seacoast, while in the capital the garrison kept itself ready by day and by night for a hostile attack. Only six months had elapsed since the arrival of the Spaniards in the capital, 1519, and now the army was in more uncomfortable circumstances than ever.

Meanwhile, while CortÉs had been reducing Mexico and humbling the unfortunate Montezuma, the Governor of Cuba had complained to the court of Spain, but without success. Charles V, since his election to the imperial crown of Germany, had neglected the affairs of Spain; and when the envoys from Vera Cruz waited upon him, little came of the conference except the astonishment of the court at the quantity of gold, and the beautiful workmanship of the ornaments and the rich colors of the Mexican feather-work. The opposition of the Bishop of Burgos thwarted the conqueror of Mexico, as he had already successfully opposed the schemes of the "Great Admiral" and his son Diego Columbus. We shall presently see how this influential ecclesiastic was able to thwart Balboa when governor of Darien.

Velasquez was now determined to wreak his revenge upon CortÉs without waiting longer for assistance from Spain. He prepared an expedition of eighteen ships with eighty horsemen, 800 infantry, 120 crossbowmen, and twelve pieces of artillery. To command these Velasquez chose a hidalgo named Narvaez, who had assisted formerly in subduing Cuba and Hispaniola. The personal appearance of Narvaez, as given by Diaz, is worth quoting:

He was tall, stout-limbed, with a large head and red beard, an agreeable presence, a voice deep and sonorous, as if it rose from a cavern. He was a good horseman and valiant.

Meanwhile CortÉs persuaded Montezuma that some friends from Spain had arrived at Vera Cruz, and therefore got permission to leave him and the capital in charge of Alvarado and a small garrison. Montezuma, in his royal litter, borne on the shoulders of his Aztec nobles, accompanied the Spanish general to the southern causeway.

When CortÉs was within fifteen leagues' distance of Zempoalla, where Narvaez was encamped, the latter sent a message that if his authority were acknowledged he would supply ships to CortÉs and his army so that all who wished might freely leave the country with all their property.

CortÉs, however, with his usual astuteness, replied: "If Narvaez bears a royal commission I will readily submit to him. But he has produced none. He is a deputy of my rival, Velasquez. For myself, I am a servant of the King; I have conquered the country for him; and for him I and my brave followers will defend it to the last drop of our blood. If we fall it will be glory enough to have perished in the discharge of our duty."

Narvaez and his army were meantime spending their time frivolously; and when the actual attack was begun in the dead of night, under a pouring rain-storm, it appeared that only two sentinels were on guard. Narvaez, badly wounded, was taken prisoner on the top of a teocalli; and in a very short time his army was glad to capitulate. The horse-soldiers whom Narvaez had sent to waylay one of the roads to Zempoalla, rode in soon after to tender their submission. The victorious general, seated in a chair of state, with a richly embroidered Mexican mantle on his shoulders, received his congratulations from the officers and soldiers of both armies. Narvaez and several others were led in chains.

CortÉs not only defeated Narvaez, but, after the battle, enlisted under his standard the Spanish soldiers who had been sent to attack him—reminding one of the "magnetism" of Hannibal or Napoleon, and the consequent enthusiasm caused by mere presence, looks, and words.

Before the rejoicings were finished, however, tidings were brought to CortÉs from the Mexican capital that the whole city was in a state of revolt against Alvarado. On his march back to the great plateau CortÉs found the inhabitants of Tlascala still friendly and willing to assist as allies in the struggle against their ancient foes, the Mexicans. On reaching the camp of the Spaniards in Mexico, CortÉs found that Alvarado had provoked the insurrection by a massacre of the Aztec populace.

Having entered the precincts with his army, CortÉs at once made anxious preparations for the siege which was threatened by the Aztecs, now assembling in thousands.

As the assailants approached "they set up a hideous yell, or rather that shrill whistle used in fight by the nations of Anahuac," accompanied by the sound of shell and atabal and their other rude instruments of wild music. This was followed by a tempest of missiles, stones, darts, and arrows. The Spaniards waited until the foremost column had arrived within distance, when a general discharge of artillery and muskets swept the ranks of the assailants. Never till now had the Mexicans witnessed the murderous power of these formidable engines. At first they stood aghast, but soon rallying, they rushed forward over the prostrate bodies of their comrades.

Pressing on, some of them tried to scale the parapet, while others tried to force a breach in it. When the parapet proved too strong they shot burning arrows upon the wooden outworks.

Next day there were continually fresh supplies of warriors added to the forces of the assailants, so that the danger of the situation was greatly increased. Diaz, an onlooker, thus wrote:

The Mexicans fought with such ferocity that if we had been assisted by 10,000 Hectors and as many Orlandos, we should have made no impression on them. There were several of our troops who had served in the Italian wars, but neither there nor in the battles with the Turks had they ever seen anything like the desperation shown by these Indians.

CortÉs at last drew off his men and sounded a retreat, taking refuge in the fortress. The Mexicans encamped round it, and during the night insulted the besieged, shouting, "The gods have at last delivered you into our hands: the stone of sacrifice is ready: the knives are sharpened."

CortÉs now felt that he had not fully understood the character of the Mexicans. The patience and submission formerly shown in deference to the injured Montezuma was now replaced by concentrated arrogance and ferocity. The Spanish general even stooped to request the interposition of the Aztec Emperor; and, at last, when assured that the foreigners would leave his country if a way were opened through the Mexican army he agreed to use his influence. For this purpose

he put on his imperial robes; his mantle of white and blue flowed over his shoulders, held together by its rich clasp of the green chalchivitl. The same precious gem, with emeralds of uncommon size, set in gold, profusely ornamented other parts of his dress. His feet were shod with the golden sandals, and his brows covered with the Mexican diadem, resembling in form the pontifical tiara. Thus attired and surrounded by a guard of Spaniards, and several Aztec nobles, and preceded by the golden wand, the symbol of sovereignty, the Indian monarch ascended the central turret of the palace.

At the sight of Montezuma all the Mexican army became silent, partly, no doubt, from curiosity. He assured them that he was no prisoner; that the strangers were his friends, and would leave Mexico of their own accord as soon as a way was opened.

To call himself a friend of the hateful Spaniards was a fatal argument. Instead of respecting their monarch, though in his official robes, the populace howled angry curses at him as a degenerate Aztec, a coward, no longer a warrior or even a man!

A cloud of missiles was hurled at Montezuma, and he was struck to the ground by the blow of a stone on his head. The unfortunate monarch only survived his wounds for a few days, disdaining to take any nourishment, or to receive advice from the Spanish priests.

Meanwhile, CortÉs and his army met with an unexpected danger. A large body of the Indian warriors had taken possession of the great temple, at a short distance from the Spanish quarters. From this commanding position they kept shooting a deadly flight of arrows on the Spaniards. CortÉs sent his chamberlain, Escobar, with a body of men to storm the temple, but, after three efforts, the party had to relinquish the attempt. CortÉs himself then led a storming party, and after some determined fighting reached the platform at the top of the temple where the two sanctuaries of the Aztec deities stood. This large area was now the scene of a desperate battle, fought in sight of the whole capital as well as of the Spanish troops still remaining in the courtyard.

This struggle between such deadly enemies caused dreadful carnage on both sides:

The edge of the area was unprotected by parapet or battlement; and the combatants, as they struggled in mortal agony, were sometimes seen to roll over the sheer sides of the precipice together. CortÉs himself had a narrow escape from this dreadful fate.... The number of the enemy was double that of the Christians; but the invulnerable armor of the Spaniard, his sword of matchless temper, and his skill in the use of it, gave him advantages which far outweighed the odds of physical strength and numbers.

This unparalleled scene of bloodshed lasted for three hours. Of the Mexicans "two or three priests only survived to be led away in triumph"; yet the loss of the Spaniards was serious enough, amounting to forty-five of their best men. Nearly all the others were wounded, some seriously.

After dragging the uncouth monster, Huitzilopochtli, from his sanctuary, the assailants hurled the repulsive image down the steps of the temple, and then set fire to the building. The same evening they burned a large part of the town.

CortÉs now resolved upon a night retreat from the capital; but when marching along one of the causeways they were attacked by the Mexicans in such numbers that, when morning dawned, the shattered battalion was reduced to less than half its number. In after years that disastrous retreat was known to the Spanish chroniclers as Noche Triste, the "Night of Sorrows."

After a hurried six days' march before the pursuers, CortÉs gained a victory so signal that an alliance was speedily formed with Tlascala against Mexico. CortÉs built twelve brigantines at Vera Cruz in order to secure the command of Lake Tescuco and thus attempt the reduction of the Mexican capital. On his return to the great lake he found that the throne was now occupied by Guatimozin, a nephew of Montezuma. Using their brigantines the Spanish soldiers now began the siege of Mexico—"the most memorable event in the conquest of America." It lasted seventy-five days, during which the whole of the capital was reduced to ruins. Guatimozin, the last of the Aztec emperors, was condemned by the Spanish general to be hanged on the charge of treason.

CortÉs was now master of all Mexico. The Spanish court and people were full of admiration for his victories and the extent of his conquests; and Charles V appointed him "Captain-General and Governor of New Spain." On revisiting Europe, the Emperor honored him with the order of St. Jago and the title of marquis. Latterly, however, after some failures in his exploring expeditions, CortÉs, on his return to Spain, found himself treated with neglect. It was then, according to Voltaire's story, that when Charles asked the courtiers, "Who is that man?" referring to CortÉs, the latter said aloud: "It is one, sire, that has added more provinces to your dominions than any other governor has added towns!" CortÉs died in his sixty-second year, December 2, 1547.