One of the things I do to relax is read Prescott's classic Conquest of Mexico, which describes the career of Hernan Cortes. It's an enchanted story of valor, cruelty, heroism, barbarism and greed, set against the backdrop of the fading light of chivalry and the pagan ferocity of the Aztecs.
Here's an excerpt:
It was late in the afternoon when he reached them; but the sun was still lingering above the western hills, and poured his beams wide over the valley, lighting up the old towers and temples of Tenochtitlan with a mellow radiance that little harmonised with the dark scenes of strife in which the city had so lately been involved. The tranquillity of the hour, however, was on a sudden broken by the strange sounds of the great drum in the temple of the war-god... and the soldiers, startled by the mournful vibrations, which might be heard for leagues across the valley, turned their eyes to the quarter whence they proceeded. They there beheld a long procession winding up the huge sides of the pyramid; for the camp of Alvarado was pitched scarcely a mile from the city, and objects are distinctly visible, at a great distance, in the transparent atmosphere of the tableland.
It continues:
As the long file of priests and warriors reached the flat summit of the teocalli, the Spaniards saw the figures of several men stripped to their waists, some of whom, by the whiteness of their skins, they recognised as their own countrymen. They were the victims for sacrifice. Their heads were gaudily decorated with coronals of plumes, and they carried fans in their hands. They were urged along by blows, and compelled to take part in the dances in honour of the Aztec war-god. The unfortunate captives, then stripped of their sad finery, were stretched one after another on the great stone of sacrifice. On its convex surface, their breasts were heaved up conveniently for the diabolical purpose of the priestly executioner, who cut asunder the ribs by a strong blow with his sharp razor of itztli, and thrusting his hand into the wound, tore away the heart, which, hot and reeking, was deposited on the golden censer before the idol. The body of the slaughtered victim was then hurled down the steep stairs of the pyramid, which, it may be remembered, were placed at the same angle of the pile, one flight below another; and the mutilated remains were gathered up by the savages beneath, who soon prepared with them the cannibal repast which completed the work of abomination!
Of course the Aztecs weren't alone in savagery, the Spaniards and their allies played the part too. But consider this, the Aztecs wouldn't have fallen as they did if the people they'd enslaved, sacrificed and eaten hadn't risen up against them and sided with Spain.
Consider this, too. Archeologists digging up the center of today's Mexico City have discovered a skull wall. Yes, a wall on which human skulls were threaded like beads on an abacus. Cortez and his Spaniards may have been justified in thinking their enemy possessed by demons.
Here endeth the Lesson,
LSP
