heart. He was munificent, indulgent, conciliatory,-but these were only so many proofs of the awe which he entertained of these mysterious strangers, of whom ancient prophecy had taught him to apprehend so much. They had shown themselves heedless of his power; they were in his palaces, self-invited guests; and what he beheld of them in personal interview, their strange and wondrous music, their horses, their artillery belching forth such thunders,-as shook the walls of his temples,-were all significant of attributes, with which, in all his wealth and magnificence, he felt it would be idle to contend. Unwilling to submit, yet not daring to defy, the unhappy monarch sunk, no less in his own, than in the sight of his people. The indiscretions of his troops precipitated events, and gave a colour to the more decisive proceedings of Cortés. An Aztec chief had ventured to murder two Spaniards near Vera Cruz, under circumstances of particular atrocity. This brought on a pitched battle between the Mexicans in that neighborhood, and Juan de Escalante, who had been left in charge of Vera Cruz. The former were defeated, and the prisoners referred the whole proceeding to the instigation of Montezuma himself. One of the Spaniards had been taken captive. His head, cut off, was sent to the Aztec emperor, no doubt, as a decisive proof of the mortality of the invaders,—a matter about which the Indians were naturally doubtful. Cortés received this information very nearly as soon as Montezuma. He resolved on the boldest measures. His own safety required it. He was in the midst of powerful foes. He was in the palace of a subtle and deceitful prince,-one of great power and matchless cruelty. His followers were few. There was no possibility of flight. It was equally impossible that he should remain long in Mexico, unperforming, a dependent on the doubtful fidelity of its monarch. Neither his genius nor his policy was prepared for this. His plan was soon conceived, but it was one to task all his courage and resolution. His design was to seize upon the person of Montezuma, and hold him as a hostage for the good conduct of his people. A day was appointed for this purpose. The night preceding, we are told by the historian, "he was heard pacing his apartment to and fro, like a man oppressed by thought, or agitated by strong emotion." He might well feel the struggle with himself. What might the morrow not bring forth, of tremendous struggle with his fate!

Mass was heard by Cortés and his soldiers in the morning. It was quite as well that the saints should be on their side. An audience was asked of Montezuma, and Cortés, with five chosen cavaliers, all in armor, appeared in the palace of the monarch. Small armed parties of the Spaniards, were also ordered to drop in, as if by accident, while the conference was in progress. When all seemed ripe for the development, the Spanish chieftain, changing his tone, abruptly accused the Aztec monarch with his treachery. Cortés required that the cacique, with his accomplices, by whom the Spaniards were murdered, should be brought to justice. The king consented, and the messenger was despatched with the royal signet. The next demand of Cortés, that Montezuma should take up his abode in his quarters, found less ready compliance. "When was it ever heard that a great prince, like myself, voluntarily left his own palace to become a prisoner in the hands of strangers." Cortés assured him it was but a change of residence, not imprisonment. "If I should consent to such a degradation," replied the monarch, "my subjects never would." He offered his sons and daughters as hostages, but the Spaniards were inflexible. The conference lasted two hours. Vexed at the fruitless discussion, an impatient cavalier, Velasquez de Leon, cried out, "Why waste more words on the barbarian. If he resists us, we have but to plunge our swords through his body." The unhappy monarch submitted. His hour was come. The hand of destiny was upon his forehead. He left the palace with his conqueror, drooping in behaviour, dejected and downcast in visage,—a sovereign in name only, and fully conscious of the cruel dishonor, which his cowed spirit left him no power to resent. His people would have rushed to arms for his rescue, but the pusillanimous monarch quieted the tumult, which his more noble ancestors would have directed. The proceeding of Cortés is justified on the score of policy, but he was guilty, subsequently, of one seeming inhumanity, the justification of which may be as complete in this case as in the other, but which has not come down to us. When the criminal cacique, by whom the Spaniards had been murdered, was brought to execution, fetters were put upon the wrists of the captive prince. This indignity completed the terribly humbling lesson which he had undergone. He wept unmanly tears, which were only less unbecoming than the gratitude he expressed-the un

dignified joy-when the fetters were at length removed by his conqueror.

But the indignity to which Montezuma submitted, aroused a different feeling among his people. His caciques and lords were a high spirited and valiant race. They looked on the Spaniards with detestation, and longed to resent the shame which they had brought upon the kingdom. Their first movements to insurrection were promptly suppressed by Cortés, aided by Montezuma himself. Several chiefs were placed in confinement, and the threatened commotions happily subdued. Meanwhile, the Spaniards had covered the lakes of Mexico with their vessels,-were in the receipt of the public revenues, and Montezuma had sworn fealty to the crown of Spain. But one thing yet remained to be done, which the wild and inconsistent fanaticism of the Spaniards conceived to be absolutely essential to the completion of a conquest, undertaken in the name of God. This was the overthrow of the Aztec worship, and the substitution for it of that of Jesus. It was in vain that Montezuma pleaded against the innovation,-urging the strongest arguments of policy against it. Cortés was unyielding; and one of the teocallis was purified and converted into a Christian temple. The discontents of the Aztecs increased, and Montezuma formally announced to Cortés, the necessity for his departure. An insurrection was preparing which he could not control,-in which the whole spirit of the people, wrought upon at once by patriotism and the priesthood, was about to declare itself by a final resort to arms. There was no repose for the invaders. Their conquest was insecure. By day they grasped, by night they slept upon, their wea pons!

While such was the relation of Cortés to the Mexicans, he was troubled with other tidings from his own countrymen. His emissaries, sent to Spain, had not been successful in procuring a sanction for his proceedings; and Velasquez, Governor of Cuba, furious at his exclusion from enterprizes which had already borne such famous fruits, fitted out a new expedition, the command of which was entrusted to a brave but rash cavalier, named Pànfilo de Narvaez. This person was to supersede Cortés,-to deprive him of his command, and proceed against him as a rebel. But Narvaez, lax in discipline, shallow in judgment, and arrogantly confident of himself, was not the man to cope with Cortés. Yet he was

provided with an overwhelming force; his squadron consisted of eighteen vessels, carried a thousand Spaniards, and as many Indians: eighty of the former were cavalry, eighty arquebusiers, and one hundred and fifty cross-bowmen. The expedition was amply supplied with heavy guns, military stores and ammunition. It was one of the bravest armaments that had ever ridden in the Indian seas.

Cortés was seasonably apprized of his dangers. His people were true to him, and he had friends, or soon made them, among the followers of Narvaez. Conscious that he risked all that had been gained, in leaving Mexico, he was yet equally aware of the necessity of meeting his new enemy. His precautions and preparations for all events, the details of which must be sought in the history, were all singularly admirable and effective. Under Alvarado, one of his best captains, he left one hundred and forty men in the capitaltwo-thirds of his whole force. With these he left his artillery, and the greater part of his horse and arquebusiers. He took with him but seventy soldiers, but they were picked men, veterans, whose sterling mettle had been tried in a thousand dangers. Six months after his entry into Mexico, about the middle of May, 1520, he went forth, the master of an Indian empire, to save it from the rapacious hands of his own countrymen. His march was rapid. In celerity lay his safety. On his way he was joined by Sandoval, another of his captains, with a body of soldiers from the garrison of Vera Cruz, and several deserters from Narvaez. His force was now increased to two hundred and sixty-six men. Frequent embassies had passed between himself and his enemy. The latter was reported to be puffed up with conceit, and unpopular with his soldiers. Cortés declared himself willing to submit, if he could produce a royal commission. But that of Velasquez, he was not prepared to recognize. The parties could not be reconciled. Arrived at the Rio de Canoas, Cortés was but a league distant from the camp of Narvaez, which was at Cempoalla. The river was swollen by recent rains. The storm had not spent its fury. He paused for a while, and suffered his men to rest till night. Then, he resumed his march, and, crossing the river with difficulty, in the very highest of the tempest, he penetrated the camp of his unconscious foe. No sound was made, no drum beaten, no trumpet sounded, until each division of his little force had reached the point assigned it. Then came the storm of men

and weapons with that of the elements. Stupified by sleep, blinded by the tempest, uncertain where to go, or who to strike, the soldiers of Narvaez rose from their repose only to be overcome. The fight was not of long duration. Narvaez was struck down by the thrust of a spear, which deprived him of an eye, and his cry of pain and terror was followed by the triumphant shout of Cortés, which announced the easy victory. The proud Narvaez, in chains, suffering from the mortification of defeat and wounds, said to Cortés when they met,-"You have great reason to thank fortune for having given you the day so easily, and put me in your power." "I have much to be thankful for," said Cortés in reply, "but, for my victory over you, I esteem it as one of the least of my achievements since my coming into this country." The truth embodied in the repartee, gave peculiar force to its sting. The affair, notwithstanding the modest pride in the answer of Cortés, was a most brilliant piece of generalship.

son.

The conquered troops became his own, and in good seaMexico was in revolt. The Spaniards were assaulted in their quarters, the brigantines burnt upon the lakes,-several of the garrison were killed, and many wounded. The work of conquest was to be begun anew. The forces of Cortés, on reaching Tlascala, were a thousand foot and one hundred horse. He obtained two thousand soldiers from the Tlascalans. With these he advanced upon Mexico. His garrison there was closely besieged. His presence relieved it. Mexico was re-entered by the Spanish chieftain, without fighting, on the 24th June, 1520. The rashness, if not the cupidity, of Alvarado, had occasioned the outbreak. But the Aztecs were ripe for it before. A massacre of the people took place, by the Spaniards, at one of their public festivals, in which many of their nobility were slain. Alvarado excused himself by alleging, that he had proofs that this festival was to be made an occasion for insurrection. He had simply anticipated their purpose. In all probability there were mixed motives at work, producing the event. Cupidity on one hand, provocation on the other, and the natural jealousy of two rival races, so closely in contact, yet entertaining such sentiments of mutual distrust and hate. The judgment of Cortés upon Alvarado, may be recognized as just. "You have done badly," said he, after he had heard his explanation. "You have been false to your trust. Your