The failure of Cortés’ attempt to storm the city on June 30th encouraged the Mexicans and discouraged the auxiliaries. The Mexicans thought that at last they had got their magic calculations right. Moreover, about this time they received a direct message from the Humming Bird through their priest mediums. In their trance these declared in the curious twittering voice associated with the Humming Bird’s oracles that within eight days the Spaniards would be destroyed. This utterance was no doubt found to conform with deductions made under the complicated system of correspondences which conditioned Mexican augury. Falling Eagle considered that he had as sound reasons for believing it as it was possible to have. Students of Mexican lore have attempted to indicate the precise reasons, and their surmises are worth recording because they help to illustrate the curious nature of Mexican thought. Quetzalcoatl had, among several forms, that of the planet Venus. Every 584 days Venus is in conjunction with the sun, when, as the Evening Star, it disappears immediately after sunset. This period of invisibility lasts eight days. It was believed that Venus-Quetzalcoatl lost his heavenly power during these eight days. He was swallowed by the earth; as the Mexicans saw it, he was in the jaws of the grave. Since he was at his weakest, it was the right moment to attack him. It has been calculated that Venus was in conjunction in July-August 1521. One can be sure that the oracle which pronounced Cortés’ coming destruction was founded on that astronomical fact. Interesting to record, if you work back 584 days from August 1521, you get December 1519, which was the date which Lord Maize Cobs fixed as propitious for the rising which Cortés anticipated by arresting him. It should be added that in the normal way it was only at these eight-day periods of weakness that human sacrifices were made to Quetzalcoatl, probably on the ground that he must have human hearts to revive him.
When the auxiliaries heard of the oracle, they also believed it. Hitherto they had put their faith in the old prophecy that that Smoking Mirror was fated to go down before Quetzalcoatl. But the oracle shook their faith. Nearly all of them deserted Cortés. The auxiliary army of 100,000 was suddenly reduced to a couple of hundred or so.
During the ensuing week the most that Cortés could do was to maintain the siege by remaining on the causeways and sweeping the lake with his sloops. He was encouraged by the news that provisions were running short in the city and the water in its improvised wells was brackish. The Mexicans attacked violently down the causeways, but as they had always to make a frontal attack against muskets and cannon, it was possible to keep them at bay. The fire-arms taken in the rout they did not attempt to use, though they discharged a few arrows from captured crossbows.
When the eight days were up and the Spaniards had not been wiped out, the auxiliaries began to return to Cortés’ standard. Evidently ancient prophecy was right. Smoking Mirror had been unable to prevail, even at the moment when Quetzalcoatl was at his weakest. Now, as the Morning Star, he was in full power again. Cortés regained all his ascendancy over the minds of his allies. They sent even more troops than before. Moreover, a ship with powder and arms put into Vera Cruz at this time, a great piece of luck as powder was very low.
Another attempt was now made to induce Falling Eagle to surrender. He was offered good terms. Cortés promised not only to spare his life, but to retain him as vassal ruler. Refusal to make peace would inevitably result in the destruction of the city and the death of its inhabitants. Bernal says Falling Eagle said to his advisers: ‘I have already tried everything I can do and have changed my manner of fighting several times, but the Spaniards are of such a nature that when we thought that we held them conquered, they turned the more vigorously against us.’ This sentence (a good example of how Bernal had an intuitive insight into the Mexican mind, though he did not fully understand it) implies, in addition to its obvious meaning, that Falling Eagle had never doubted the supernatural quality of his assailants. He had used every magical device known to him, particularly sacrifice, but they had counter devices of greater potency, which could not be provided against because it was not known how they worked.
The other members of the Mexican council were against Cortés’ offer. They had come to think that, whatever they did, ruin was certain. They were doomed. Better then go down fighting. Falling Eagle accepted their advice.
From this onwards, Cortés determined on a methodical reduction of the city. He would not again make a dash for the market, but would advance up the causeways, enter the streets, destroy the houses one by one, use their materials to fill the canals where bridges had been, and so make the city safe to manœuvre in with cavalry and artillery.
By July 25th he had taken the southern part as far as the main square and on July 28th Alvarado, coming in on the west, met him in the market-place of Tlatelolco. On the way Bernal went into a shrine and saw on poles ‘many of the heads of our Spaniards whom they had sacrificed. Their hair and beards had grown much longer than when they were alive. I would not have believed it, had I not seen it.’
By the market-place was Smoking Mirror’s large pyramid which they had visited eighteen months earlier on their first coming to Mexico. Cortés set fire to it, after destroying its images. This act recalled what the apparition of Smoking Mirror had said to Montezuma’s envoys, when he told them to look back at Mexico and see how its temples were in flames.
The Mexicans were now confined to the north-east comer of the city. This was mostly a lake sector; a great part of the buildings stood on piles in the water. The population had been pressed back into this area which contained about a thousand houses. The number of people who lived in Mexico is not exactly known and estimates vary between a third and two-thirds of a million. Allowing that some thousands had been killed, had died of privation, had fled or been sent to the mainland, the number left must have been considerable. They were starving. But their spirit was unbroken.
Again Cortés sent proposals for peace. A message came from Falling Eagle that he agreed to a parley. Cortés went, but the other was not there. Instead were two lords, who declared it was unsafe for their master to come. On Cortés attempting to reassure them, they maintained a sceptical air and, as if to persuade him that they had no lack of food, ‘drew from a bag they carried some maize cakes, a leg of turkey and cherries and, seating themselves in a very leisurely manner, began to eat’. The negotiations came to nothing.
The best description of the last stages of the siege is in Cortés’ letter to Charles. After relating how the negotiations failed and how he resolved on a combined assault on the north-east comer, his army attacking on the land side and his launches under Sandoval from the lake, he writes: ‘Such was the slaughter done on water and on land, that with prisoners taken the enemy’s casualties numbered in all more than 40,000 men. The shrieks and weeping of the women and children were so terrible that we felt our hearts breaking. We had more trouble in preventing our auxiliaries from killing and inflicting tortures than we had in fighting. No such inhuman cruelties, as practised by the natives of these parts, were ever seen amongst any people.’ He goes on to complain that the auxiliaries, who as they numbered 150,0 could not be controlled by the small Spanish force, took a quantity of plunder, which he would have liked to get. Indeed, one of his reasons for seeking a negotiated surrender was that in an assault the greater part of the wealth of the city would be stolen by the auxiliaries or thrown into the lake by the desperate defenders.
The first day of the final assault ended indecisively. The next morning Cortés managed to have speech with the Mexican Commander-in-Chief, the successor of the Serpent Woman killed at the battle of Otumba. But this officer repeated that Falling Eagle was resolved to fight to the last. ‘I told him,’ writes Cortés, ‘to return to his people, and that he and they might prepare themselves, as I was determined to finish destroying them. More than five hours had passed in these parleyings. The inhabitants of the city were all treading on the dead. Others in the water were swimming and others drowning themselves in the large lake. Such was the plight in which they were that one cannot conceive how they could endure it. An infinite number of men, women and children kept coming towards us, who in their haste pushed one another back into the water and were drowned amidst the multitude of dead. They had already perished to the number of 50,000 from the salt water they drank or from starvation and pestilence. As these people came towards us, I ordered Spaniards to be stationed in all the streets in order to prevent our auxiliaries from killing the unhappy creatures. But as they were so many it was not possible to prevent it that day and more than 15,000 persons were massacred.’
A position was reached when most of the remaining Mexican soldiers were perched on the roofs of the houses which stood in the water of the lake itself. Their position was hopeless. They were separated in small groups; and they had no stones or arrows left or means of procuring a further supply. It was the moment for Sandoval to steer his sloops among the houses and let his musketeers and crossbowmen pick off the defenders on the roofs. Cortés gave him the order. He made straight for the building where Falling Eagle was holding out.
But Falling Eagle, even at this moment of general massacre, when the auxiliaries, once his subjects, seemed bent on a complete extermination of the Mexican people, was not going to surrender. He had with him some fifty canoes. He, his wife, who was Montezuma’s daughter, his ladies and his courtiers embarked on them with the intention of escaping to the mainland. He also took on board his personal treasure. When Sandoval arrived he had gone. Sloops were immediately sent in pursuit. A certain García Holquin, who commanded the fastest sailer, overtook the canoes. Among them was one with awnings and a royal seat, evidently Falling Eagle’s boat. Holquin signalled to him to stop and, when he did not, threatened to fire. Falling Eagle, seeing that he and his womenfolk were covered by the musketeers, accepted his fate and gave himself up. ‘Spare my women,’ he said, ‘and take me at once to Malintzin.’
‘When Holquin heard this,’ says Bernal, ‘he was greatly delighted and with much respect he embraced him and placed him in the sloop. He gave him mats to sit on and offered him refreshments.’ Sandoval soon afterwards arrived in his sloop and demanded the royal prisoner. But Holquin, who expected a great reward, refused to give him up except directly to Cortés.
Cortés had mounted a pyramid in Tlatelolco to watch the pursuit. On seeing the capture of Falling Eagle, he gave orders for a guest chamber to be got ready with hangings and comfortable seats, and a good meal to be prepared. It was not long before Sandoval and Holquin appeared; Falling Eagle was walking between them. Cortés embraced him with animation and spoke warmly to the lords who followed him. But Falling Eagle could not respond to this show of courtly manners. What had happened he saw only as the last scene in a tragedy. He declared: ‘My duty is done. I can do no more. I did not surrender. I was taken prisoner by force.’ And placing his hand on the dagger which Cortés had in his belt, he said with intense emotion: ‘Stab me.’ The tears were running down his face. ‘Cortés replied affectionately, through Doña Marina,’ writes Bernal, ‘saying he esteemed him for his bravery, that he attached no blame to him in anything.’ One is bound to say that no commander of modern times would conduct himself with such gallant politeness to a fallen enemy who had put all his prisoners to a cruel death. But it was the code of the day for a victor to show a splendid magnanimity to the leader of the other side. The part was easy for Cortés. His grace was natural; excited and relieved by victory, he radiated happiness. Bernal had noticed this characteristic of his at the time of Narváez’s defeat. It was with the same gaiety and magnificence that he comforted Falling Eagle. ‘When he bade me stab him I encouraged him and told him not to be afraid,’ he wrote to Charles. The letter goes on: ‘This lord having been made prisoner, the war immediately ceased, which God Our Lord was pleased to bring to its end on this day, the 13th of August 1521, seventy-five days after we first laid siege to the city.’
The end of the fighting was so sudden that the absence of noise seemed very strange. Bernal thought it was like being in a belfry when the bells all at once stop ringing. The soldiers wondered if they were deaf. For so long there had been shouting, the sound of drums and trumpets, of hammering, whistles, conch-shells, cannon. ‘At the capture of Falling Eagle the clamour ceased.’
The drama of Cortés and Montezuma had ended in silence.