The Broken Spears: The Aztec Account of the Conquest of Mexico

“This confrontation, vividly described both by the conquistadors and the natives, was something more than the meeting between two expanding nations; it was a meeting of two radically dissimilar cultures, two radically different modes of interpreting existence.” 

While the Aztecs believed their visitors to be the god Quetzalcoatl returning from his long voyage across the sea, the Spanish thought only of subjugating the Aztecs, converting them to Christianity, and stealing their riches.

“This treasure was a god’s finery: a serpent mask inlaid with turquoise, a decoration for the breast made with quetzal feathers, a collar woven in the petatillo style with a gold disk in the center, and a shield decorated with gold and mother-of-pearl and bordered with quetzal feathers with a pendant of the same feathers.”

The level of careful detail the Nahua author provides here and in other passages describing religious artifacts underlines the highly specialized and advanced state of Aztec religious belief in the 16th century. While the Spaniards were interested only in Aztecs gold, each element of these divine treasures held special significance in Aztec culture.

“The strangers said: ‘You may have come from there, or you may have not. Perhaps you are only inventing it. Perhaps you are mocking us.’ But their hearts were convinced; they were satisfied in their hearts.” 

This striking first statement from the Spanish to Motecuhzoma’s emissaries speaks volumes on their mindset approaching the interaction. Fully prepared to inflict cruelty and treachery on the indigenous peoples of Mexico if necessary, the Spanish assume the worst and expect the same treatment in return.

“They refused to eat the food that was sprinkled with blood, because it reeked of it; it sickened them, as if the blood was rotted.” 

Believing that the Spanish might be gods, Motecuhzoma orders victims to be sacrificed to propitiate them. Even the Spaniards’ disgust did not definitively prove they were not affiliated with Quetzalcoatl—some Aztec myths described the hero-god as opposed to human sacrifice, while others described him practicing it.

“The magicians carried out their mission against the Spaniards, but they failed completely. They could not harm them in any way whatsoever.” 

In a world as spiritual as that of the Aztecs, it was inconceivable that spells would be so inefficient against as “supernatural” a foe as the Spaniards.

“We should go over to their side: we should make friends with them and be their allies. If not, they will destroy us too.”

This musing from the Tlaxcaltecas reflects a line of reasoning held by many oppressed peoples. While they were harshly judged by the Aztecs for allying with the Spanish—and they certainly had self-serving reasons to do so—the Tlaxcaltecas were also legitimately frightened to refuse.

“Their dogs came with them, running ahead of the column. They raised their muzzles high; they lifted their muzzles to the wind. They raced on before with saliva dripping from their jaws.” 

This poetic portrait of the Spaniards’ dogs metaphorically describes the attitude of their masters. The Spanish have scented gold in Tenochtitlan, and their jaws are dripping.

“Cortés […] using his wits as always, as an astute leader, to take advantage of a favorable situation.” 

While Aztec accounts of Cortés are distrusting and critical, his Tlaxcala allies are effusive in their praise. Cortés’s treatment in historical descriptions—and in some modern accounts—tends to be divisive: It is either very dismissive of the Spanish captain or very enthusiastic.

“The truth is that they longed and lusted for gold. Their bodies swelled with greed, and their hunger was ravenous; they hungered like pigs for that gold.” 

While the Spanish were concerned with converting the Indians to Roman Catholicism, they were also motivated by profit. At stake was social mobility: Many conquistadors were middle class, rank-and-file soldiers, and in Mexico, there was ample opportunity to make a fortune.

“[Yacotzin] replied that [her son Ixtlilxochitl] must have lost his mind to let himself be won over so easily by that handful of barbarians, the conquistadors.” 

In this passage, Yacotzin berates her son, the Tezcoco prince Ixtlilxochitl, for buying what the Spanish were selling so readily. The Spanish often referred to Indigenous as “savages”; here, Yacotzin inhabits a similar mindset in reverse.

“They seized these treasures as if they were their own, as if this plunder were merely a stroke of good luck.”

The Spanish are reliably characterized in Aztec narratives as having no sense of personal property for anyone other than themselves. Invited into the homes of their hosts, the Spanish decide their hosts’ riches are theirs for the taking.

“The blood of the warriors flowed like water and gathered into pools. The pools widened, and the stench of blood and entrails filled the air.” 

Miguel León-Portilla argues that Nahuatl accounts contain “many passages whose dramatic interest is equal to that of the great classical epics” (xxvi). This brutal depiction of a slaughter is evidence of the poetic skill of the Nahuas.

“When a man saw something he wanted, he took it, and it became his property.” 

After the Night of Sorrows sees the Spanish utterly defeated, the Aztecs reenact the conquistadors’ easy disrespect from earlier interactions and loot whatever they please.

“When the Spaniards found out about how dangerous [Tzilacatzin] was, they tried desperately to kill him. […] Therefore he wore various disguises to prevent them from recognizing him.” 

Like the Native American trickster god Coyote, the great captain Tzilacatzin embodies the adaptability that allowed the Aztecs to fight back.

“The Spanish standard was taken and carried off during this encounter. The warriors from Tlatelolco captured it in the place known today as San Martin, but they were scornful of their prize and considered it of little importance.” 

As the Spanish disdained to learn of culturally important artifacts to the Aztecs, so too do the Aztecs not care about the Spaniards’ flag.

“That same day, after looting the city, the Spaniards apportioned all the gold and silver among themselves, leaving the feathers and precious stones for [their indigenous allies].”

The Spaniards have no respect for the cultural importance of Indigenous religious symbols—they simply strip out the metals.

“what I did was no more than what you have done, for you also have come here with arrows and shields to capture all our cities.” 

An Aztec lord, Tlacotzin, tries to find common ground with the Europeans: He established his territorial lands in the same way the Spanish are trying to do now. In response, Cortés ramps up the hypocrisy, claiming to be a liberator for the common people from tyrants like Tlacotzin.

“But still the brace captains of Tenochtitlan held back. As for the Tlatelolcas, their humblest warriors died fighting as bravely as their captains.” 

In contrast to the divided Aztecs, the Tlatelolcas present themselves as almost radically united—here, a common man fights just as fiercely as a leader. On Page 137, even the women of Tlatelolco join in the fighting.

“Why should the Tlatelolcas feel sorry when the people of Tenochtitlan bring a senseless destruction on themselves?” 

In Chapter 5, the Tlaxcaltecas tried to excuse their part in the slaughter of the Cholula people by claiming the Cholula started it. Here, the Tlatelolco historians may also engage in a bit of fabrication. They report that Cortés’s Indigenous allies gave them a blank check to betray the Aztecs—after all, who would blame them?

“Have you grown weary of your servants? / Are you angry with your servants, / O Giver of Life?” 

In his brief introduction to the elegiac poetry written by the Aztecs after the fall of Tenochtitlan, León-Portilla underlines their haunting ability to give voice to “the trauma of conquest” (146).

“We are very much in need of a person who would be our defender, who would reside continuously in that royal court, to whom we could go with [our necessities].” 

Even after submitting to colonization, the Nahuas peoples continued to experience abuse and exploitation from their Spanish overlords. They felt disempowered, unsure of their options in a society which was fundamentally foreign to them. Here, they beg the Spanish king Philip II to appoint a representative to look after their needs.

“Every day we are more consumed and finished, because they expel us from our lands and deprive us of our goods, beyond the many other labors and personal tributes that daily are increased for us.” 

Colonized peoples often use language related to eating (like “consumed”) to describe their treatment at the hands of their colonizers. It emphasizes that their lands, their resources, even their bodies are a finite resource being voraciously devoured by others.

“Let us receive the water on our heads [be baptized], let us give ourselves to the men of Castile, perhaps in this way they will not kill us. […] Let us remain here. Do not trespass [by] going on another’s land, perhaps in this way they will not kill us.” 

Aztecs believed that the ritualistic repetition of words had magical powers. Here, an Indigenous voice repeats, “Perhaps they will not kill us” both for its literary force and, perhaps, for its apotropaic properties.