National Post (National Edition)
Cortés the killer? It’s complicated
GOLD WAS MOTIVATOR FOR SPANISH CONQUEST, BUT THAT’S NOT THE WHOLE STORY
Alot can happen in 500 years. Sometime in midFebruary 1519 — half a millennium ago most likely around Feb. 18 — Spanish adventurer Hernán Cortés sailed from Cuba in 11 ships with 650 men, 16 horses and a small armoury of early firearms. His goal: to discover a newer world — one richer and more rewarding in gold and glory than the New World of the Caribbean had proven to be for the early Conquistadors. A week later he set foot on Cozumel, Mexico, setting in motion events of continent-altering consequence.
Two years later, by 1521, Cortés had comprehensively conquered the wealthy and sophisticated Aztec empire. In doing so, he established the roadmap for subsequent European colonization of all North, Central and South America. For his signature role in shaping our modern world, Cortés, once hailed by his peers as a great leader, is now widely regarded as a butcher and a madman — a central figure in the “Black Legend” school of history that regards Spanish colonialism as a uniquely evil period. Neil Young’s 1975 grunge classic “Cortez the Killer” seems an apt summary of current opinion on the subject. (“Plenty bad man,” Young sings on the live version.)
“The conquest is a very difficult topic for Mexico,” admits Alicia Mayer, a historian at the National Autonomous University of Mexico and director of the school’s Canadian campus in Gatineau, Que. “For centuries Cortés has been a very polemic historical figure,” she notes. “From a Black Legend point of view, he is a cruel, greedy murderer.” Alternatively, Cortés’ achievements have been regarded by other critics as preordained, and thus unworthy of special recognition. This line of thinking was popularized by geographer Jared Diamond’s 1997 bestseller Guns, Germs and Steel, which argues the advantages of horses, resistance to smallpox and superior military technology allowed European colonialists, beginning with Cortés, to conquer their Native American foes with unseemly ease.
Such is Cortés’ reputation today that Mayer notes there’s scant official recognition of the quincentenary of his momentous arrival in Mexico. “The past government (of former president Enrique Pena Nieto) had no program for Cortés,” the historian says, although she notes the newly elected administration of President Andrés Manuel López Obrador is making a modest effort at commemorating the event.
Setting aside the question of whether it’s better for historical figures these days to be reviled, dismissed or ignored, the current state of Cortés’ reputation is entirely undeserved. From an enlightened perspective, Cortés’ personal accomplishments stand among the most remarkable and improbable in human history. His genius for leadership, adaptation and tactical diplomacy may never be equalled. Nor his resoluteness of purpose, nor his indomitability of spirit. And while there’s no avoiding the many tragedies associated with European colonization of the Americas by Cortés and others who came before and after him, his legacy also includes a rather modern concern for the basic human rights of the Indigenous population. It would be a mistake to let the 500th anniversary of Cortés’ arrival in Mexico pass without contemplation or comment.
At the time of Cortés’ landing, the mighty Aztec empire encompassed most of present-day central Mexico, comprising anywhere between five and 20 million people across hundreds of tribes, with its epicentre at Tenochtitlan, a city of perhaps 250,000 located on the site of present-day Mexico City. Cortés called Tenochtitlan the most beautiful city he’d ever seen, surpassing even magnificent Seville. Over this vast kingdom ruled Moctezuma II.
Yet for all his power and wealth, Moctezuma sat on a flawed throne. Tenochtitlan was a warrior society dependant on tribute extracted from client states throughout Mexico on threat of military violence, leaving much of the countryside overtaxed and perpetually restive. His authority was also indivisibly linked to a religion requiring homage to various cruel and demanding gods and a calendar filled with portentous predictions. Without daily offerings of human hearts and fresh blood taken from still-living sacrificial victims, Moctezuma and his priests believed their sun would die. The annual toll ran to 4,000 men, women and children per year, many of whom were also ritualistically cannibalized. At ceremonies honouring the rain god Tlaloc, it was necessary to wet the ground with tears prior to human sacrifice, usually children. Aztec priests would pull out their fingernails to make them cry. The victims of these bloody rituals were also extracted from the many tribes under Tenochtitlan’s thumb.
Cortés certainly had guns, horses and other advantages of Western civilization, but he also had a great stroke of luck: in a striking coincidence, the Aztec legend of Quetzalcoatl predicted a pale-skinned god would one day return from the east to reclaim his lost throne; Cortés offered a passing resemblance. And the Aztec calendar recorded 1519 as Quetzalcoatl’s year. But his success can’t simply be ascribed to such factors, says Justin D. Lyons, a historian at Cedarville University, Ohio and author of a recent book comparing Cortés with Alexander the Great. “One of the reasons I compared him to Alexander was to reflect on his audacity in attacking such a massive empire with such slender resources,” says Lyons in an interview. “He was a very gifted command- er who could size up situations very quickly and successfully navigate extremely difficult situations.”
The vast inequity of numbers — 650 Europeans versus millions of Aztecs — outweighed any advantage conferred by the Europeans’ few horses and cumbersome guns. Of greater consequence, however, was the fact Aztec military tactics emphasized capturing their enemies alive for later sacrifice rather than killing them on the battlefield. While hugely outnumbered, the more aggressive Conquistadors thus had a superior game plan. (Although given his slim resources, Cortés typically preferred bluffing to battle.)
Aided by native interpreters, Cortés quickly discerned the fault in Moctezuma’s empire and allied himself with tribes eager, but unable on their own, to overthrow Tenochtitlan’s hegemony. In this way he added hundreds of thousands of motivated warriors to his meagre band of adventurers. And he carefully exploited the coincidences between his arrival and Quetzalcoatl’s foretold return to sow doubt in his opponent’s mind. So despite the sophistication of Aztec society and politics, Cortés outmatched Moctezuma on his home turf in diplomacy, tactics and intelligence gathering. In fact the ruler’s reaction to Cortés’ slow but steady march to Tenochtitlan roughly conforms with the Elisabeth Kübler-ross’s five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Moctezuma variously tried to ignore the invaders, dissuade them, bribe them with gold to get them to leave and then ambush and kill them. When nothing worked, he fell into a depression that allowed Cortés to walk into the great city unopposed. “If Moctezuma had been more energetic and determined, he could have quite easily pushed Cortés back into the sea,” reflects Lyons.
Beyond strategic concerns, Cortés was constantly beset by rivalries and dissension within his own small force. As the self-appointed leader of a rather unruly band of mercenaries, Cortés had the impossible task of balancing tough discipline with popular support. When the full scope of the mighty Aztec empire came into focus, many of his crew wanted to flee back to Cuba. In response, Cortés famously destroyed his boats on the beach at Vera Cruz — giving his men no choice but to join his quest. After narrowly avoiding an assassination attempt, Cortés uncovered a list of the conspirators. Realizing he couldn’t afford to punish them all since they comprised a large portion of his senior staff, Cortes claimed the ringleader, whom he hanged, had swallowed the list before being captured. This deception allowed him to keep track of those whose loyalty was suspect — and who were on their best behaviour thereafter — while avoiding a major bloodletting within his ranks. And when the governor of Cuba attempted to recall Cortés by sending another fleet to bring him back in chains, he raced from Tenochtitlan to the coast, defeated his rival in a lightening strike and convinced the rest of the newly-arrived troops to join his mission. Whatever the challenge or obstacle, Cortés found a way to overcome it.
As for the scourge of smallpox, it didn’t make an appearance in Mexico until 1520, after Cortés had seized Tenochtitlan for the first time. And when it did arrive, it hit Cortés’ native allies as hard as his enemies. In truth it was Cortés’ daring, leadership skills and unerring sense of opportunity — not guns, germs, steel or luck — that made him so successful in the face of such slim odds. In British historian Hugh Thomas’s memorable turn of phrase, Cortés “had that capacity of all successful men of being able to conceal his real intentions until the pear which he coveted was ready to fall.” Most importantly, he never, ever gave up. When a series of reversals saw his men expelled from Tenochtitlan, losing most of their guns in the process, Cortés rallied to take the city a second time, this time at sword point.
What drove Cortés to take such risks? The common explanation for the Spanish Conquest is “God, glory and gold” — in ascending order of importance. But while gold was certainly a key motivator, it can’t explain the entirety of Cortés’ actions; in particular, his concern for the lives of those suffering under Aztec rule.
“Cortés was sincerely opposed to human sacrifice both personally and due to his religious creed,” says Lyons, noting that Aztec religiosity involved “a level of slaughter that’s probably never been equalled in the world prior to the advent of mechanized means.” When Cortés’ party entered Tenochtitlan for the first time, they reported seeing racks displaying tens of thousands of skulls from sacrificial victims, claims recently backed up by archeological evidence. A single festival during the rein of Moctezuma’s predecessor consumed an estimated 80,000 lives. The ritualized killing and cannibalism of its subject peoples appears to have been the central preoccupation of Aztec leadership. And Cortés went to great lengths to stamp out these horrors — even when doing so ran counter to the demands of glory and gold. He outraged crucial native allies, for example, by destroying their altars and interrupting sacrificial ceremonies when a lesser and greedier man might have looked the other way.
Is it too much to argue Cortés deserves recognition as an early champion of human rights for putting an end to the Aztec’s barbaric human sacrifices? Maybe. He certainly left plenty of death and destruction in his own wake. But at the 500th anniversary of this monumental historical event, Cortés and his legacy need more analysis and contemplation than you’ ll find in Neil Young’s version of things.
FROM A BLACK LEGEND POINT OF VIEW, HE IS A CRUEL, GREEDY MURDERER.