OH, LOVE: The Dropout Student and the Chieftain’s Daughter Sold into Slavery
Art Design: huxley.media via Photoshop
WHAT LOVE CAN DO
We are used to saying that love can do anything… But can it create a new state? Reality is not a romance novel — the dry, ruthless, and deceitful laws of political science are far from sentimentality. And yet, it is almost impossible to deny that one of the world’s largest countries (thirteenth in land area and tenth in population) would have had minimal chances of coming into existence in its current form without this sentimental, irrational, and unscientific emotion.
Let’s think about it — how much does love truly matter in our society? Is it purely a personal affair, or was Dante right when he wrote, «Love that moves the sun and the other stars», elevating love to a cosmic force? Was King Solomon correct when he said, according to the Bible, «Many waters cannot quench love, nor can the floods drown it», or should we believe the cynical joke that love is just a foolish idea invented by the Russians to avoid paying for things?
It seems everything depends on the intensity of love — not necessarily mutual love. If just one person loves fiercely enough, they can unleash chaos beyond imagination! Whether this is good or bad, I won’t say. But I will remind you how the mighty empire of the Nahuatl people — whom we call the Aztecs — collapsed, and you can decide for yourself whether the love of one woman played a significant role in this historic downfall.
GOOD AND EVIL
Two gods ruled the universe in the Aztec empire — the benevolent Quetzalcoatl, who taught people writing, crafts, and science, gave them maize as their staple food and allowed only butterflies and birds to be sacrificed in his name, and the fierce Tezcatlipoca, often associated with Huitzilopochtli, the god of two of the world’s most terrifying forces — war and the sun.
Quetzalcoatl was bearded and fair-skinned (perhaps the Aztecs mistook a stray Viking for a deity?). Once defeated by Tezcatlipoca, he set off across the seas but promised to return, take revenge on his rival, and ensure that flowers, not humans, were sacrificed in rituals.
A poor student of the University of Salamanca, an absentee, and a slacker, Hernán Cortés knew nothing of these legends. He barely understood why education was necessary at all. What was the point of memorizing facts when that Genoese merchant — what was his name? Cristóbal Colón? — had discovered new lands where gold and silver supposedly lay scattered everywhere!
Cortés set sail for those lands fought in Cuba and Haiti and received an estate as a reward, and yet — it wasn’t enough for him! Thirteen years later, in 1519, by the Julian calendar — or, according to the Aztecs, the First Year of the Reed — he was given command of 533 soldiers and 15 horses. How did it happen that the legend of Quetzalcoatl predicted his return in the First Year of the Reed, precisely the year Cortés arrived?
THE AZTEC EMPIRE
The Aztec Empire of that time was a terrifying state. Having conquered many neighboring peoples, it never officially annexed them — simply so it could declare war on them at any moment. These wars, which the Aztecs poetically called «flower wars», served one main purpose: capturing prisoners to be sacrificed on the dreadful pyramids of their temples. There, the hearts of living victims were torn from their chests in gruesome rituals. During the consecration of the Great Temple of Huitzilopochtli in Tenochtitlán alone, an estimated 80,000 captives were sacrificed over four days.
The priests insisted that if such sacrifices were not performed regularly, the world would end. They didn’t see themselves as cruel but as saviors of the universe. And somewhere in history, there was a priest who first proclaimed this idea — it would be interesting to look him in the eye…
For such an empire, the ruler of the time, Tlatoani Motecuhzoma, was a perfect fit. We, having read too much H. Rider Haggard, in our childhood, usually called him Emperor Montezuma — but he was anything but sentimental. After winning one of the «flower wars», he celebrated his victory with a grand feast, dining on a luxurious dish made from the finest cuts of twenty-four defeated chieftains.
So why would he fear a mere five hundred unshaven, pale-faced foreigners? He sent an embassy to meet them, bearing gifts — including two ceremonial outfits, one representing Quetzalcoatl and the other Tezcatlipoca. Which one would the foreign leader choose? Yet, to his confusion, the Spaniard didn’t wear either.
However, the most fateful gift, the one that would ultimately seal the Aztec Empire’s doom, was a group of twenty young slave women. Around this time, the Catholic Church had made a crucial ruling: Indigenous people did have souls and were, in fact, human! Granted, they were still pagans, which meant it was highly desirable to baptize them. But now, if a Spaniard happened to embrace or kiss an indigenous woman, he was not committing the vile sin of bestiality. And if the woman was baptized, then why shouldn’t a Christian, if he so desired, take a Christian woman as his wife? It was perfectly acceptable.
THE FATAL WOMAN
Cortés accepted the gift, ordered all the women to be baptized, and distributed them among his most loyal companions — keeping one for himself. And his choice turned out to be astonishingly fateful. It was his chosen woman who would play the most crucial role in the fall of the Aztec Empire.
There are different versions of her original name — some say Malinali, others Tenepal — but eventually, she was called the ominous name Malinçi (meaning «misfortune» or «discord»), which over time transformed into Malinche. She was the daughter of a minor chieftain who died young. Her mother remarried his successor and gave her up as a tribute to the Aztecs — this is how she eventually ended up with Cortés.
Fluent in both the Aztec and Maya languages, Malinche quickly mastered Spanish as well. Before long, she became an indispensable intermediary between the Spaniards and the indigenous population — not to mention other aspects of her role…
All contemporary accounts of Cortés’ expedition emphasize that he treated Malinche with kindness, showing her not only respect but even tenderness. And Malinche, in turn, did everything she could to help her man — most likely out of love. Simple attachment alone could hardly explain her devotion.
Did Cortés develop feelings for her? Or was he simply smart enough to keep such a valuable member of his team satisfied? Most likely, it was both — human emotions are always more complex than they seem.
Meanwhile, Montezuma was in a panic — Cortés had refused to wear either of the ceremonial costumes, leaving the Aztec ruler unsure of who he really was. To make matters worse, the Spaniards had sent him a helmet with a demand: fill it with gold so they could compare it to the gold from their homeland.
When the Aztecs asked why the Spaniards needed so much gold, they were told that all Spaniards suffered from a terrible heart disease that could only be cured with gold. In essence, this was the absolute truth! And all the while, Cortés’ army was marching ever closer to the Aztec capital…
During this difficult campaign, a group of Spaniards conspired to assassinate Cortés and seize power. One of the conspirators let something slip to his woman, she mentioned it among the other women, and eventually, word reached Malinche. Without hesitation, she informed Cortés, who swiftly crushed the conspiracy, punishing the plotters with a level of brutality unimaginable by today’s standards.
But were the so-called humanists of that era any better? Not much. A little later, one of them — Bishop Bartolomé de las Casas — became deeply distressed by the harsh treatment of the indigenous people, who were being forced into brutal labor. And what solution did he propose to help them? He suggested importing more African slaves instead…
THE VICTORS’ FEAST
I won’t retell the entire story of Mexico’s conquest — just a few vivid details. How many local tribes, hating the ruthless Aztecs, became allies of Cortés — thanks in no small part to his interpreter. How Cortés, again with Malinche’s help, concluded negotiations with Montezuma by effectively taking him prisoner.
How Cortés left his camp to destroy a Spanish expedition sent against him by foolish local authorities under a flimsy pretext, while the brutal idiot he left in charge, Diego de Alvarado, managed to provoke a full-scale uprising against the Spaniards. Montezuma tried to calm the people and was killed — by the Spaniards or by his own people, no one knows for sure.
The numerically superior Aztecs captured Spanish soldiers and immediately sacrificed them, slicing open their stomachs with stone knives, while the Spaniards, in their desperate escape across ruined bridges, threw their gold, cannons, and fallen comrades’ corpses into the water. But then Cortés returned — this time with the indigenous allies he had gained thanks to Malinche — and completely destroyed Tenochtitlán, along with the entire Aztec Empire.
Would the Aztec state have survived if not for Doña Marina (as Malinche was called after her baptism)? Perhaps. And that is why many Latin Americans see her as a traitor, giving her the crude nickname La Chingada (to put it politely, the violated one). But none of this mattered to her — she loved the stranger from across the sea, and when love is involved, everything else fades into the background.
Cortés built himself a house, and about two hundred meters away, he built a house for Doña Marina, connecting them with an underground passage so no one could see when and for how long he visited her. They had a son, whom they named after Cortés’ father — Martín. It seems that Martín was the first true Mexican, for as Nobel laureate Octavio Paz once said of the conquest: «It was neither a victory nor a defeat; it was the painful birth of a mestizo natio».
Unfortunately, there was no happy ending to this story. Cortés never married Doña Marina. However, he did not abandon her completely — he arranged for her to marry his officer, Juan de Jaramillo, discarding her like an unneeded possession.
It would be wrong to say she was paid back with betrayal for betrayal — she never betrayed anyone. She despised the Aztecs who had sold her into slavery, just as most of the people in those lands did.
Her loyalty belonged solely to Hernán Cortés. She never wavered in her devotion to him. Did she regret it? Perhaps, as all women do — she might have had moments of regret, but then she would remember how happy they had once been together…
THE SACRIFICE OF THE FIRST MEXICAN
In Cortés’ defense, it should be noted that both Emperor Charles V and his own father advised him to marry a Spanish woman. He never completely severed ties with his former lover, and their son, Martín, eventually became friends with one of his half-brothers. To Spain’s credit, its racial prejudices were significantly weaker than its religious ones.
Many Spaniards legally married baptized indigenous women. Moreover, for many tribes still resisting the Spanish, capturing a Spanish woman for their leader was considered a great achievement. And these charming captives, accustomed to their own standards of family life, quickly had the proud caciques under their heels.
As a result, a new nation emerged — the criollos, who would go on to populate most of Latin America.
Martín, the son of Cortés and Malinche, ultimately proved his love and loyalty to his father’s family — but at a terrible cost. When Cortés’ legitimate son grew up, he led a rebellion. Strangely enough, most of the rebels were indigenous, and their goal was independence from Spain — history is full of surprises!
The revolt failed, and the authorities hunted down its leader. That’s when Martín voluntarily surrendered, claiming that he was the ringleader — his own half-brother. He was executed, while his brother survived (at least, according to legend). Could such a sacrifice have happened if these children of the same father had not truly loved each other?
And what do people say about Doña Marina today? She is still remembered — mostly as a cautionary tale. For example, when Mexicans complain that imported Californian wines are more popular than local Mexican ones, they call this preference machismo.
The word machismo means favoring the foreign over one’s own — a kind of betrayal in the name of love. So, Doña Marina not only gave birth to the first Mexican but also gave birth to a new word. How many people can claim to have enriched their language in such a way?
As for whether she was right or wrong, whether she deserves praise or condemnation — that is for you to decide.
One thing is certain: debates about her will continue, for she can never be erased from history.
Let’s remember her if only to remind ourselves that love has the power to create a nation — or to turn it to dust and ashes.
