“It is enough; I will none of it,” said Montezuma, who from that moment would not listen to a word of Christian exhortation.6 It was early in the morning of the 30th of June,7 three days after the trying scene in the presence of his people, that the monarch breathed his last. And even the Spaniards forgot for a moment their diabolisms, and allowed their minds to dwell on the virtues of this magnificent heathen, this mighty sovereign, their sweet-tempered prisoner, and kind and generous host.8
Of a truth, despite his pusillanimity with regard to the Spaniards, which was indeed little else than pardonable superstition, this man was in many respects not unworthy the title of Great so freely bestowed upon him. Montezuma was but forty-one9 at the time of his death, and had wielded the sceptre for nearly eighteen years with wonderful success. Under him the Aztec empire acquired its widest extent and greatest glory. While his armies by well directed operations spread the terror of his name to distant provinces and increased the national domain by fresh conquests, his subtle intrigues secured advantages at home, and established the supremacy of Mexico in the tripartite alliance. With a high regard for the dignity of his throne, he caused the sovereign to be worshipped almost like a god, and sustained the grandeur of his surroundings with lavish expenditure. This severe and ostentatious pride kept him above the reach of his people, and failing to understand their wants or to sympathize with their condition, he ruled not by love, but by fear. Thus it is that we find the native records dwell upon his fitful cold-blooded cruelty and superstition, not as a tyrant, however, but as an administrator of their own cruel yet revered rites. He was reputed just, but this quality was to be found rather in the intention than in the act. With all his pride he appears to have been most