The story of the Conquest strains believability (500 Spaniards traveling with 13 horses subdue a native population of 25 million, along the way reducing the 200,000-strong capital city to rubble.) I just finished Prescott's 1843 epic telling, a work littered with a sardonic wisdom, which maybe is in short supply today.
A few of my favorites:
It was the just recompense of rebellion; a word that has been made the apology for more atrocities than any other word,—save religion.
Considering the awe in which [Cortés] was held by the Mexicans, a more improbable tale could not be devised. But nothing is too improbable for history,—though, according to Boileau’s maxim, it may be for fiction.
If the historian will descend but a generation later for his authorities, he may find materials for as good a chapter as any in Sir John Maundeville or the Arabian Nights.
The country was reported to be full of gold; so full, that “the fishermen used gold weights for their nets.” The life of the Spanish discoverers was one long day-dream. Illusion after illusion chased one another like the bubbles which the child throws off from his pipe, as bright, as beautiful, and as empty. They lived in a world of enchantment.
Those fared best, as the general had predicted, who traveled lightest; and many were the unfortunate wretches, who, weighed down by the fatal gold which they loved so well, were buried with it in the salt floods of the lake.
He died at the age of seventy-six, much regarded for his virtues, and admired for his genius, but in that poverty with which genius and virtue are too often requited.
1 comment:
It helped that the locals thought Cortez was their returning god. Greased the wheels, as it were.
Post a Comment