Volume 1 — CHAPTER XXV. DEATH OF MONTEZUMA. June, 1520.
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A Living Death—The Old Imperial Party and the New Power—Aztec Defiance—Perilous Position or the Spaniards—Disappointment to Cortés—Another Sally—The Dying Monarch—He has no Desire to Live—His Rejection of a New Faith—He will None of the Heaven of the Spaniards—Commends his Children to Cortés—The Character of Montezuma and of his Reign.
Long before this the Spaniards had learned that the power which had arisen in Montezuma’s stead was of a different quality from that lately wielded by the poor caged monarch, whose proud spirit they had so blighted and brought low. No Quetzalcoatl or other personage, fair or dark, heaven-descended or of import infernal, might now interpose to prevent the killing and cooking of the strangers. Cortés had thought that the late spoliation of idols would fill the people with awe toward beings so superior to their gods. But when he threatened that if they did not lay down their arms not a man of them should remain alive, nor one stone be left on another throughout all their city, they laughed at him, the priests abetting. “How speak you so foolishly,” they said, “mortal as we now know you to be, when for every Spanish life we are prepared to sacrifice, if need be, twenty-five thousand of our own lives?” They had cut off retreat at the causeways, so that the lake alone was open to exit, and here they were prepared with fleets of canoes filled with resolute men. Even should the Spaniards hold out against assault, hunger and thirst must overcome them in the end. “The truth of this was too evident,” observes Cortés, “for hunger alone would have soon killed us.”
The imperial party, which had sunk to insignificance since the elevation of Cuitlahuatzin to the leadership, and was now sustained only by a few relatives of Montezuma, had no longer a voice in the direction of affairs. Their efforts to make terms with the Spaniards might have gained public approval, but the ambition of Cuitlahuatzin stood in the way of any compromise. To release the strangers would be to restore Montezuma, and he preferred to occupy the throne himself. He was also covetous of military fame; and knowing the desperate condition of the besieged, he hoped by their reduction to add to his record of glorious achievements.[793]
The soldiers felt the peril of their position more than the general. They had been cheered for a moment by victory, only to find how barren it was; only to realize that many such triumphs would prove their ruin. In order to counteract this growing despondency, Cortés resolved on a night sally with half his force. The Indians being unprepared for this, the party advanced with comparative impunity, destroyed several barricades, and fired a large number of houses along the Tlacopan road, where the roof assault had been so severe. The warriors having finally gathered in sufficient force to render retreat advisable, the Spaniards destroyed a number of buildings in the vicinity of their quarters before entering, and thus secured additional immunity.[794]
The present purpose of the Spaniards was to open an exit from the city. At a council, called to consider the situation, it was admitted that delay would only reduce their strength without corresponding gain, and with the prospect of closing more effectually the gate against them.[795] It was a great disappointment to Cortés thus to abandon his hard-earned advantage. There were those who would exult over his misfortunes, and never could he hope to win favor from the king except by some brilliant success. But this he would yet achieve, God willing, or perish in the attempt.
The engines were strengthened, and every preparation was made to meet the rapidly accumulating difficulties. At dawn a large force set out in the direction of the Tlacopan causeway to secure its approaches.[796] The advance was made in the order of the day previous, with guns and pioneers, and with cavalry in front and rear. The late destruction of houses proved of no considerable advantage, but the cannon being brought to play on the barricades, an opening was soon made. The engines, with their fortified sides and covers, proved more efficient than formerly in checking assaults from the roofs. The soldiers accordingly advanced with firmer resolution, and although the showers from the house-tops were still troublesome, and resistance on the streets was as fierce as ever, yet one after another the first four canals were captured. The nearest houses were razed, and with the débris roadways were thrown across the channels.
These operations were carried on in the face of a bitter onslaught, and occupied the entire day. Evening being at hand the crossings were left in charge of a strong guard, composed of the freshest men, while the rest returned to the fort.
Montezuma the while lay a-dying, prostrate a-dying, not as Vespasian would have an emperor die—standing; but with manhood, and the aspirations of man, ay, even the regrets and remorse incident to foiled endeavor, all crushed he was killed when the insults of his people fell upon him; he scarcely heeded their darts and stones.
It is not necessary always that breath shall cease before one can be dead. From Ianthe’s spirit fell the shackles of sense, the body being left with its animal life, but soulless. And though corporal life was yet present in Montezuma, the soul was already free: the accursed aliens had done their worst. When the might of sacred sovereignty was extinguished, the remains were less than man, though they walked, and talked, and wept.
Compared with his present condition, how dignified and happy death would have been by the hands of his brother priests, before the gods, in the eyes of the nation, on the sacred sacrificial stone! Or, like that among the Massagetæ, told of by Herodotus, who sacrificed and ate their old people, holding natural death a misfortune—even this or any other stepping down and out would have been preferable to thus dying like a silly hare in a trap!
He refused food and any attention to the wounds, which were far from fatal. He tore off the bandages, threw from him all medicines, and bared his body to disease, even as his soul had been long since bared, and stretched out his hand to hasten the cold stony grasp of death. What a farce was life, and honor, and majesty, all to end in poverty and disgrace! Feeling the all-changing moment at hand, he summoned Cortés; for despite his long maltreatment he entertained a kind of affection for the monster, who might even yet prove to be the demi-god of some far away incomprehensible world. Moreover, the Spaniard’s intellect and arm were the stronger; he was his son-in-law and probable successor; therefore, though his jailer, he would speak with him. And when he came Montezuma said: “The end for me approaches, Malinche; it is even here. You cannot harm me further, nor help me if you would. I have given you all; you have taken all—my liberty, my kingdom, my life, and that which is more to me than kingdom, liberty, or life, the affection of my people, the love of my counsellors and friends; and respect—respect of self, and that sacred respect which, living or dead, is mine by inheritance, and by virtue of my office. But I would not upbraid you; I pray only that my ruin will benefit you; I beg of you care for my children, and I conjure you to avenge me on my rebel subjects and their leaders.”[797]
Moved by the touching appeal, Cortés promised all that was asked of him, while remonstrating with the monarch for rejecting food and medicine. Montezuma then, in like manner, exhorted his nobles who were prisoners with him, and was touched by their sorrow for the sad state of the empire, and their manifestation of affection for himself. Father Olmedo, who had never relaxed his efforts for the captive’s conversion, now pressed to his aid the general. But in vain. All else these beings maledict had taken from him; they should not now rob him of his religion. His faith was as dear to him, as true, as pure, as efficacious, as was theirs to them. Away with another’s gods! Let each live and die by his own. He was high-priest, too, and for him to prove recreant to the national faith would overshadow all his former crimes combined. “What is this they would have of me?” he groaned within himself. Then turning suddenly to Olmedo, he asked, “Do Spaniards go to this heaven of yours?” “Assuredly,” was the reply; “it was made for them, and is held by Christians, against all others, as the reward of their pure belief and gentle deeds.” “It is enough; I will none of it,” said Montezuma, who from that moment would not listen to a word of Christian exhortation.[798] It was early in the morning of the 30th of June,[799] three days after the trying scene in the presence of his people, that the monarch breathed his last. And even the Spaniards forgot for a moment their diabolisms, and allowed their minds to dwell on the virtues of this magnificent heathen, this mighty sovereign, their sweet-tempered prisoner, and kind and generous host.[800]
Of a truth, despite his pusillanimity with regard to the Spaniards, which was indeed little else than pardonable superstition, this man was in many respects not unworthy the title of Great so freely bestowed upon him. Montezuma was but forty-one[801] at the time of his death, and had wielded the sceptre for nearly eighteen years with wonderful success. Under him the Aztec empire acquired its widest extent and greatest glory. While his armies by well directed operations spread the terror of his name to distant provinces and increased the national domain by fresh conquests, his subtle intrigues secured advantages at home, and established the supremacy of Mexico in the tripartite alliance. With a high regard for the dignity of his throne, he caused the sovereign to be worshipped almost like a god, and sustained the grandeur of his surroundings with lavish expenditure. This severe and ostentatious pride kept him above the reach of his people, and failing to understand their wants or to sympathize with their condition, he ruled not by love, but by fear. Thus it is that we find the native records dwell upon his fitful cold-blooded cruelty and superstition, not as a tyrant, however, but as an administrator of their own cruel yet revered rites. He was reputed just, but this quality was to be found rather in the intention than in the act. With all his pride he appears to have been most affable and kind to those with whom he came in contact. The Spaniards certainly found him so. In their later intercourse other considerations may have ruled him, however, and with the cunning and secrecy of his race he may have submitted to the inevitable demands of circumstances.[802]
Surrounded by fawning ministers, whose existence depended on his favor, he was encouraged in the extravagant habits of a magnificent court, which promoted their schemes at the expense of a tax-ridden people. The ambition to extend his fame and power required the maintenance of immense armies, of numerous garrisons, and of costly campaigns, which proved another drain on the people. This was augmented in subjected provinces by the extortions of imperial officers, who found means to prevent the cry of the oppressed from reaching the throne. Perhaps the most terrible infliction was the levy on the youth of both sexes for slaves, and for sacrificial victims to appease the bloody appetite of Aztec gods—an appetite which had increased in horror with the abject superstition of this otherwise enlightened monarch. Enlightened he undoubtedly was, for as high-priest he had become versed in the higher learning of the priesthood. The study of mythology came naturally to him, while astronomy and natural history were favorite subjects with the lords of the lake peoples, the former connected with myths and divinations, the latter illustrated by specimens from different regions, and collected in the botanic and zoologic gardens of Mexico and other cities. The studies of his youth had gained for him a well merited respect from his priestly confrères, and the prudence and sagacity which controlled the well stored mind commanded attention in the council.[803] While yet a young man there seemed to develop qualities which fitted him for the position of high-priest, also as counsellor, to which his princely rank paved an easy way. Besides this he had shown himself possessed of great courage, and had established his fame as a general by many victories.
It was with this reputation, as zealous and learned priest, prudent statesman, and brave soldier, that he ascended the throne in 1503, while only twenty-three years of age. It is in such terms that his colleague Nezahualpilli in his coronation address refers to the hopes entertained of the youthful ruler.[804] Though ever a devout servant of the gods, the effeminate pleasures of the court weakened the nerves and energy of the soldier, till his warlike ardor survived only in a taste for military reviews and for the chase. The caution of the general remained, but timidity saves few leaders from disaster. Vanity and designing ministers overruled too often the dictates of wisdom in the administration of affairs.[805] His path had been prepared by able predecessors, and answered well for the policy of aggrandizement which became the leading feature of his reign. In this his natural liberality and talent for intrigue, fostered by priestly training, served him well and procured blindly devoted instruments for his plans. Thus, by fair means and foul, the empire was raised to the pinnacle of its glory, but not being of a natural or healthy growth it proved unstable, and crumbling under the strong commotion created by the approach of Castilians, it revived only for a moment in the present uprising like the mental illumination preceding death. Montezuma could not have failed to recognize the insecurity of the bonds which held it, and influenced by the predictions of its downfall he readily fell beneath the spell of the superior intellects which were to assume control. It was his misfortune to have lost the sanguine energy of his youth, which might have enabled him to rise above the weaknesses of himself and his age. Duty and honor were overcome by superstition and absorbing love of power, of life, and he reaped the natural fruit of puerile and misdirected efforts by losing both. Resistance might not long have delayed the inevitable, but it would at least have procured for him an end worthy of his grandeur.
Of his many wives may be named the princesses Teitlalco, Acatlan, and Miahuaxochitl, of whom the first named appears to have been the only legitimate consort.[806] By her he left a son, Asupacaci, who fell during the noche triste, and a daughter, Tecuichpo, baptized as Isabel, married consecutively to Quauhtemotzin, the last Mexican sovereign, to visitador general Alonso Grado, to Pedro Andrade Gallego, and to Juan Cano de Saavedra. She had children by the latter two, from whom descend the illustrious families of Andrade-Montezuma and Cano-Montezuma.
By the Princess Acatlan were left two daughters, baptized as María and Mariana. The latter alone left offspring, from whom descends the Sotelo-Montezuma family. By the third wife came to the emperor the son Tlacahuepantzin, known after baptism as Pedro Yohualicahuacatzin Montezuma, whose descendants, the condes de Montezuma y de Tula, intermarried with the noblest families of Spain, and connected the name with the highest offices of state, and with the title of grandee.[807]