fighting men, no less than fighting dogs, display a gravity in their every-day demeanor unknown to tamer spirits. “Are not my interests yours, and yours mine?” continued Cortés. “Therefore, I pray you, ascribe not my views to disregard of your wishes, but to a desire to promote the good of all. What people going to war that does not sometimes suffer defeat; but what brave men ever abandoned a glorious campaign because of one repulse? And do you not see that it is more dangerous to go than to remain—that to retreat further would only invite further attack? I will not allude before soldiers of mine,” concluded the speaker, “to the everlasting infamy of abandoning these brave Tlascaltecs to the enmity of the combined forces of the plateau for having stood the Spaniards’ friend in time of danger. Go, all of you who will! abandon your sacred trusts, and with them the riches in mines, and tributes here awaiting you, and fair encomiendas, with countless servants to attend before your new nobility; for myself, if left alone, then alone will I here remain and general Indians, since Spaniards have all turned cowards!”
Hearts of steel could not withstand such words so spoken; and loud came the shouts of approval from Cortés’ old comrades, who swore that not a man should be allowed to endanger the common safety by leaving.
This manifestation was in itself sufficient to shame the disaffected into resignation, although not into silence, for mutterings were frequent against the quality of persuasion employed by the general and his beggarly followers, who had nothing to lose except their lives.
In order somewhat to allay their discontent Cortés promised that at the conclusion of the next campaign their wishes should be consulted, and the first favorable opportunity for departure be tendered them—a cool proposal, affecting only those who would be left of them, yet made with sober visage by the artless Cortés.21