--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Porter, Elizabeth Cannon collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 21 number: 7 published: 1918-05 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Porter, Elizabeth Cannon, "Retreat of the Dismal Night," *Improvement Era* 21, no. 7 (May 1918): 603–613.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2107unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2107unse start_page: 603 end_page: 613 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1918-05) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2107unse publication_year: 1918 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1918, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Retreat of the Dismal Night Meeting of Cortez and Montezuma Retreat of the Dismal Night' By Elizabeth Cannon Porter Sandoval met Alvarado at the change of the guard and asked him where the Captain Cortez was. "Gone to the roof to consult the stars like the wise men of old," returned Alvarado. "He has exhausted every earthly means to get us out of this hole and now he perforce has turned to heavenly ones." Alvarado (Tonatiuh, the Sun God, the Mexicans called him on account of his golden hair and beard) was given to much talking. "Now that you have come to take my place, I'll go and bathe my head." He indicated an ugly slash across the forehead which he had received in the fight on the temple's summit the day before, when he had helped roll Huitzel, the stone image of the Aztec God of War, over the edge, where it plunged to the pavement below. "Have you a wound, too?" he asked the *This story received first place in the January, 1918, Era story contest. The author says: "It is correct historically, and represents much research work, combined with a knowledge gained first-hand in Mexico. The chief authority from which the facts are taken is The True Story of the Conquest of New Spain, by Bernal Diaz, himself one of the conquerors under Cortez." Editors. 604 IMPROVEMENT ERA younger captain, noticing lie grasped his sword hilt with a hand swathed in cotton. — "That only a burn," laughed Sandoval. "The red infidels set fire to the stables and I helped put it out." The two adventurers presented a queer appearance. Their clothes were ragged and dirty, their armor clumsily pieced to- gether, yet they were bedecked with heavy golden ornaments, spoils torn from the Indians. As he departed, Alvarado hummed a gay Spanish air to hide the gloom in his heart. In the tower above, Cortez himself looked out over the — sleeping city— the Venice of the New World with its flattopped houses, its wondrous gardens, and intersecting canals covered with chinampas, fairy-like boats. It was not the beauty of the scene, however, that enthralled the senor. He was wondering how to get out of this Aztec capital that he had been so eager to enter a few months before. The last few hours had wrought vast changes in his fortunes. The day before he had been a ruler of kings. He had governed the vast Indian empire through their Emperor, whom he held prisoner. Now Montezuma had died and he, the Spanish conqueror, was hunted like a jackal by the Indian legions. Had he not been so full of his own troubles he might have had some compunction for his part in the death of that mild-mannered monarch who had done nothing but good to the Spaniards. Montezuma, strongly superstitious, had believed that Cortez was the "White God" who was to come to rule over his people. The stranger's horses, queer animals, which the Aztecs had never seen before, and the artillery that belched "thunder and lightning," had confirmed them in this belief. The Indians' own fears had made it possible for the several hundred Spaniards to seize the barbarian king in the midst of his hosts. Long they held him prisoner until finallv the populace revolted against the iron king and his Spaniard masters. Sorely beset Cortez had forced the crowning humiliation on Montezuma. He led him out on the parapet to quiet the multitude. When they beheld the sacred person of their monarch the stilledtheir battle to listen to his words: Y "My beloved people grieve not that I took up my abode with the strangers. Let them go in peace and they will leave the city." The scene still stood out like a silhouette in Cortez' brain. Ihe emperor, under his royal canopy of green feathers, and the Spanish conquerors Indian wife, Marina, with the breeze flutfatrhun^ * inter P r eting the words on which their F ° Uj" le ste PP ed forth ^d approached and one had 525» ! answered, "We do not believe the lying words of Malinchc (Co£ RETREAT OF THE DISMAL NIGHT 605 tez). He has left his departure too late. We are incensed that he has injured you, seized your children and put our nobles in chains. The war must be carried through. We have vowed not to relax until the vile strangers are all dead. We pray to our gods to protect you and forgive us." Scarcely were the last words spoken when a shower of stones and arrows fell around the defenseless forni of the royal personage. Too late the Spanish soldiers interposed their shields. The king fell. They carried the bleeding and senseless form of Montezuma from the battlements. An awed whisper went around that it was Guatemoc, nephew and son-in-law of Montezuma, who had sped the fatal arrow, because he considered that the sovereign stood between the Aztecs and their vengeance. After he had been stoned by the rabble, Montezuma wanted to die. He tore the bandages from his wounds, and even the sweet flattery of the Spaniards grew distasteful to him. He commended his family to the care of Cortez. How well the haughty Spanish commander fulfilled his trust we shall see later. At noon the body, as befitted so great a monarch, had been carried in state on a royal bier out to his subjects. When they beheld the corpse of Montezuma, great wailing broke forth. Later in the day the Aztecs renewed their onslaught on the Spanish quarters with augmented fury. That evening Cortez called his captains together. Frankly he reviewed the situation. The Indians had proclaimed Cuitlahua, brother of Montezuma, king. He had flouted their suit for peace. Guatemoc, the general, had boasted that not a Span- — iard would get out of the city alive that he was willing to sacrifice a thousand warriors for each white man if necessary. Their — ammunition was low their provisions fast dwindling. Now that Montezuma was dead they could hope for no more food. Their water supply had long since been cut off, and they had been forced to dig a well in the courtyard. Every man was wounded. They had slept in their clothes for months. On the other hand, to leave now was to abandon all that they had won with such unearthly toil. The men voted unanimously to go. The hour and the means were left to Cortez. Little wonder that he couldn't sleep. As he stood upon the roof he espied at the end of the Azotea the fantastic figure of Botello, the astrologer. He knew him by his bald head. "Ho, Botello," he called. "Do you hear the howls of yonder tigers and lions." (These caged animals were fed on the bodies of the victims sacrificed in the pagan temple). "I fear that they are surer of tomorrow's dinner than we are." "Holy Mother, preserve us," exclaimed Botello. "I fear that 606 IMPROVEMENT ERA unless we leave this accursed city within the next twenty-four hours, they will indeed fatten on our bodies, for not a Spaniard will be left to tell the tale." To cover his own sick fears, Cortez asked quickly: "Can't you read my constellation in the stars, good Botello? What message have they for me?" "They say, Senor Captain, that you shall be abased, but will later attain great riches and honor. In our departure, many of our company will be lost. I myself will be among the lost." This last prophecy, so important to Botello, was unnoticed by Cortez, who called the Father Olmedo, as if he had suddenly made up his mind. When the friar, in his long, flowing robes, slowly approached, Cortez addressed him: "Were you engaged in the courtyard?" "Yes, Captain, we were burying the dead." "What, are they not all buried yet?" impatiently. — "No there were many tonight, as several died from their wounds received in the fight on the temple." "Though you are tired, father, I wish that you would go among the sick and wounded. Find out how many are able to walk. Those that are not, have litters arranged to carry them on. If any be dying, administer the last sacrament to them. Then, father, get to your prayers. Tell Valesquez de Leon to come up to me." As the young captain of the guard came up, dawn stole over the city. Then suddenly, after the manner of the tropics, it was light. Juan Valesquez de Leon was handsome, of powerful build, much larger than Cortez. He had had charge of Montezuma and had so won that monarch's favor that he had given him his daughter Zaura. She had been promised to the Indian Prince Cacama, but had preferred the Spaniard. The two adventurers looked out to where the morning sun danced on the waters. Tenochtitlan, ancient Mexican city, was built upon the water. Many of the streets were intersected by canals. Streams ran between many of the houses. Drawbridges were used and most burdens were carried by boat. The city was connected with the mainland by causeways. There were three of these, of which the shortest was the one to Tacuba on the west. At various points the salt waters of the lake flowed between the stone walls of these causeways to permit the passage of boats. /Montezuma is dead, and if the next few days do not see US W 01 this trap We are lost '" mused £H ? ' the elder man. My little princess says that the priests are preparing °i to sacrifice us to their diabolical gods," replied Valesquez de Leon. She says that as they followed their father's body to the grave, hat her sister, Guatemoc's wife, seemed exultant. She says that the bridges are down and that not a white man can get out " RETREAT OF THE DISMAL NIGHT 60t "That's what I wanted to see you about, Leon. Lead an armed troop out on the streets and see if we can get, dry-shod, down to the Tacuba causeway tonight. Take the guns and kill as many of the varlets as you can. "Yes, Senor." Valesquez saluted, and Cortez went to hunt up the carpenter. When he found him he ordered a portable bridge built of stout timbers, wide enough to span the canals in the causeway. That was the first great mistake of the retreat of the dismal night. There were three canals and only one bridge. Had the astute commander carried a bridge for each canal things might have turned out very differently. When Cortez went down to breakfast with his Indian wife Marina, he looked so fresh one would not know that he had been up all night. Marina had been sold into slavery by her mother, and like Joseph sold into Egypt, she became an instrument of Providence. When the Spaniards landed at Yucatan a chief gave her, with seventeen other maidens, to the white explorers. Marina spoke the language of the Aztecs and the language of Yucatan. One of the Spanairds spoke Yucatecan. Without her, communication could not have been carried on with the Indians. Moreover, she quickly learned Spanish, as for her it was the language of love. She rode constantly with Cortez. She interpreted the speeches of Indian and Spaniard. Her diplomacy and good sense saved many an awkward situation. She enjoyed her lord's greatest triumphs and cheered his saddest hours. As he was a lone man beset with many dangers, her heart sided with her lover against her own people. Now she received his intimation to depart that night in silence. "You will be carried in a white palanquin, Donna Mia, by our most trusted Tlascalan Indians. I, myself, will look after that division. Pray the Virgin that we may reach the land. Now, I must go to look after the transportation of our prisoners." In a dark room, whose only light came from a high aperture, were half a dozen kings and princes. They were all manacled to the same long chain. It clanked ominously when any of them moved. Ill-kempt and partly naked, they looked any- — thing but royal now all except Cacama, at the end of the chain. Hook-nosed and slim, with muscles of woven steel, he still retained his haughty bearing, though the iron had eaten into his soul. Cacama was king of Tezcoco, the second city of the valley, nephew of Montezuma, he was betrothed to the latter's daughter Zaura. He was one of the heirs to the Aztec throne. But Zaura had loved the Spaniard at first sight, so he felt that the strangers — had robbed him twice of love and country. 608 IMPROVEMENT ERA When Cacama had heard of Zaura's marriage to Valesquez de Leon, he organized a revolt. Montezuma, however, sent his envoys to seize Cacama in his own palace, and bring him to the Spaniards. Gradually they had got possession of the other no- bles of note; all except Guotenoc. He had distrusted the strang- ers from the first, when Montezuma, his wife's father, was seized. He had retired to a distant province where he defied the Span- iards.He had come on now with his cohorts to harass their de- parture. Cortez ordered the long chain broken and the prisoners separated for the journey. He had reason to believe that their subjects might try to rescue them, so he ordered them chained to the artillery. Montezuma's son, lo, a tall youth, was also chained securely to a cannon, as Cortez now deemed him his most valu- — able hostage one for whom the Mexicans might be willing to make concessions. As the commander left the room Cacama spit after him. Towards evening, Cortez called his soldiers together and opened the treasrue vault in the middle of the palace. The men's eyes bulged and their mouths fell open as they beheld the great pile of gold ingots piled in the center of the room. Most of them had never dreamed of, much less seen, such vast treasure. When the Spaniards first took up their residence in the palace, which had belonged to Axa, Montezuma's father, they had found a door which had been walled up by stone masons. On opening it, they found themselves in a vast treasure house. There were golden suns and moons and calendars, fantastic birds and fishes, clumsy chains and ornaments, besides jewels and much silver. Later Montezuma, with princely generosity, had given all this to his guests. The Spaniards had melted most of it down into solid gold bars, for easier handling. Cortez called his secretaries out. "First I want you to select the fifth, belonging to the crown— King Charles V of Spain. For its transportation I have provided eight horses and eight friendly Indians." After these men had Weighed out the royal fifth, Cortez addressed the soldiers: "Now, let each man step forward and select what he wants. Only remember we have a bad trip ahead ot us tonight, and he travels farthest who travels lightest." Ignoring this last advice, the men started forward eagerly and loaded themselves down. They slung the bars across their shoulders, tied them in pouches around their hips. Alas, their greed dragged many of the men to their death in the mire that Valesquez de Leon returned with his troop bleeding and torn, to say that they had filled up the holes in the road in the RETREAT OF THE DISMAL NIGHT 609 citydown to the Tacuba causeway. Beyond that were three yawning chasms. The infuriated inhabitants had sent showers of arrows after them and rolled stones from the roofs upon their heads. To blind the Indians to his immediate departure, Cortez had sent that afternoon asking for an eight-days' truce. Their only reply was a fresh onslaught of renewed fury. The fact that the Indians did not fight at night caused the Spaniards to select the darkness for their departure. The night came on, threatening and dark. It is said that Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo because it rained, and he couldn't bring up his cannon. So this night a fine, drizzling rain set in and spelled disaster to the Spaniards. The order to march had been arranged with care. First went the infantry, under the command of young Sandoval, of whom Cortez said, "He is fit to command great armies." With the van went one hundred and fifty Spaniards and four hundred Tlascalan Indians, carrying the bridge. Then came the pack horses with their gold. In the middle, which was the weakest part of the line, was the artillery, the prisoners and the baggage. This latter consisted of food, valuables, powder, documents, bales of cotton cloth, skins and clothes made out of feathers. There were also — three women borne on litters Donna Marina with draperies of white, Donna Louisa, a Tlascalan princess belonging to Alvarado. Her brothers marched by her black canopy to insure her safety. The third palanquin was of royal green to show that one of the Montezuma's blood rested therein. Zuara's olive, oval face peered out from between the curtains to look for her cavalier. De Leon presently rode up to reassure her. She could not repress a little shiver, for she was leaving her people and riding off alone with her lover into the storm, to what a far country neither of them knew. Leon, with Alvarado, had charge of the rear guard. This in the events of the night proved itself to be the place of greatest peril. Brandaminte, the sorrel mare of Alvarado, shied and fretted as if she, too, had a presentiment of evil. Cortez, on his white charger, had ridden to the rear to see that no one was left behind when Magia, the gunner, plucked his sleeve. "St. Iago, protect us this night," he exclaimed, "you cannot depend on the guns. The wind blows out our fuses. Even if it did not, the damp powder would not light." Cortez, with strange misgiving in his heart, turned to 01meda, the priest. "Get thee to thy prayers, father, for it is all that can save U3 this night." The long cavalcade curved down through the deserted streets. It seemed that the city slept. HO IMPROVEMENT ERA "Things seem quiet tonight," ventured Leon. "Too quiet," muttered Alvarado in his beard. Just then sounded the shrill note of a conch shell. An old woman that kept a stall down near the lake had given the alarm. Soon it was answered by a sound that sent a chill to every Spanish heart, the beat of the drum of serpents' skins, upon the temple. It was beaten only when the pagans offered human sacrifice to Huitzel. Warriors poured into the streets; they appeared on the housetops and hurled stones and javelins down upon the Europeans. The rear guard received the brunt of the fighting. In the meantime the van was out on the causeway. Around them the lake was covered with canoes bristling with armed warriors. The soldiers had reached the first gap. The cry went back for the bridge. "Ho, Martin Lopez, bring up the bridge." The bridge was brought and laid across the chasm. The in- fantry passed over safely, also the gold-laden horses. it The cannons were hard to pull across, and the baggage horses floun- dered under their burdens. In the meantime the Indians climbed the embankments like howling dervishes, and engaged in hand-to-hand conflicts with the white men. Had they not tried to carry off their victims alive for sacrifice, not a Spaniard would have escaped. The rear guard, beset from the land, was streaming with blood. They had left many of their dead in the streets. Finally they, too, had crossed, and those at the front of the column were clamboring for the bridge at the next chasm. 1 he men went back to get it. The horses plunged madly. Those in the rear were pushing forward. Still the bridge did not come. U>rtez galloped back and found the carpenter in tears, most of his brave Tlascalans dead at the bridge. Sen he 1 oked u P with wi] d eyes, "we cannot u M" ^u" .?1 move the bridge. The artillery 1 has wedged it so tightly into the rocks that I could not move it if I had a thousand men." Cortez satisfied himself that the man spoke the truth, then he curtly told him to go on and save himself. The word went like wildfire along the line. Then a great wail arose: the bridge cannot be raised." "We are lost." Pandemonium broke loose. The men threw guns and fought with battle-ax and away their sword. The Indians prodded with their long spears for weak spots in Spanish armor. T^ «WngW The f £\ Tr OccXnaUv'aa flash of lightning or the flare of Occasionally in the dark an Indian torch lighted up a scene of indescribable horror. The strugglinVmas pushed the foremost into the chasm. wate r , and rf them /ootmen fared worse, as they ^^ Horses floundered In the I other sTde. The were knocked down by others 612 " IMPROVEMENT ERA falling on top of them. Some might have combated the salt waters of the lake had they not been so weighted down with gold. The fair, slim limbs of Montezuma's son lay in the ooze crushed under a cannon. Montezuma had squandered an empire on his unwelcome guests. It was thus they repaid the debt. Men, horses, baggage, guns, crossbows, gold, lunged into the gap, a writhing, horrible mass. When it was full, those remain- ing passed over. Terrible as was the fate of those who perished there, it was better than that of those who were pulled up into the canoes and dragged off to be offered as human sacrifices to the dread god of war. Most of the rear guard were dead, so sorely were they beset by the Indians. Valesquez de Leon had dismounted and walked by his black charger's head, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the green palanquin. Yet he dreaded to find what he looked for. He had gone some distance when a great fear smote him that he might have passed it, for he was looking for what he sought on the ground. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of some splintered bamboo, the flutter of a green curtain. He dropped upon his knees and clawed at the debris like a madman. He found the slim form, still warm. Gathering her up in his arms he felt something wet. His hand was wet with blood Zaura's— blood. Leon threw back his vizor and kissed the lily-like face for the last time. Strong men are weakest through their passions. — His lotus flower, his little girl, was dead trampled under foot of Spanish horses. He was oblivious of the murder- ous scene around him. A ild lookin £ fadian, carrying a flaming torch in one hand,j ^u Christian battle-ax in the other, came down the causeway. He too seemed to be looking for someone. He caught sight ot the black-bearded Spaniard with Montezuma's daughter clasped m his arms. The savage's eyes blazed. He cleaved the skull ot Valesquez de Leon with his battle ax. The man was Cacama. With that one blow he paid the debt of lost love— a lost kingdom. Alvarado, riding up on his sorrel mare Branda- mante, saw the deed, and struck the Indian with his spear. Lacama fell to his knees, but wound his arms around the front toot of the horse. Brandamante reared, and horse and Indian rolled over into the lake. Alvarado leaped from the saddle just in time. Only seven of the rear guard remained, and they were fast falling. Ahead of the dismounted cavalier was the last yawnmg chasm. Planting his long spear, with the strength Speratl ° n he lea ed the c^abilit ' P SaP~ a fe *t beyond human On the other side he met Cortez. The captain he mainland in safety, but three times had reached had he been back to help the column. Now he had come in search of the rear guard RETREAT OF THE DISMAL NIGHT 613 "They are all dead. I am all that remains of it, Senor," answered Alvarado, ruefully. "Let us go on." In the gray dawn, under a dripping cypress tree in Tacuba, Cortez sat and wept. Little wonder that he shed tears, for the dismal night had cost him two-thirds of his men, most of his — treasure, and the great city he had won now swarming with hostile Indians. The survivors, as they straggled up, were a sorry-looking crew, bedraggled and wounded. Not one gun or piece of artillery had been saved. It all lay back in the mud. An officer whom Cortez had sent after information came up and reported, "The Donna Marina is all right. The Tlascalan Indians brought her in among the first." "It is well," said Cortez. "Had she died, another would have perished with her." It was the first good news of that memorable day. Filled with fresh courage, Cortez arose and stretched his arms. He shook his fist. "I will come back and pull your city down around your ears. He later made good his threat. In the meantime, he had left a powerful ally back in Tenochtitlan — the much-dreaded smallpox. — That day began a new era a new race. In the Spanish camp the first real Mexican was born. Don Martin, son of Cortez, the Spaniard, and Marina, the Indian woman. A