Montezuma Part 13

MALINCHE.

INTRODUCTION.

I may properly place "Malinche" as supplementary to "Montezuma," as dealing with characters coincident to, and cotemporaneous with those concerned in the "Conquest," and also as covering a period subsequent to, and immediately succeeding the Conquest.

To the student of history, Malinche (in her position of interpreter during the entire period of the Conquest) presents at once so much that is unique and charming, and yet such a sad commentary on the criminal practices of the sixteenth as well as the nineteenth centuries, that I have often wondered that a stronger and more practiced hand has not ere this claimed the privilege of championship.

According to Prescott, she was born in the town of Painnalla, Province of Coatzacualco, in the southeastern extremity of what is now Mexico; that she was the daughter of a Cacique (a sort of provincial Governor) and prospective heiress to large estates; that after the death of her father, her mother, with indecent haste, forms another union, and in time presents the stepfather with a son; that they jointly combine to be rid of Malinche, whom they sell to itinerant traders; and, to cover their device, they pretend that she is sick and use the child of a servant for their criminal pantomime; the child dies, thus completing the deception, except the hypocritical mourning to which this unnatural mother is said to have been equal.

Malinche is sold by the traders to the Cacique of Tabasco, and reaches maturity about the time of the Conquest. She seems to have been a favorite in the house of the Cacique, which would indicate that he had become acquainted with her origin, and after the surrender of the town to Cortez, she is one of the twenty female slaves presented to the Conqueror and his allies.

Either from enlarged opportunities or her natural aptness, and probably both, she is found by Cortez to be just the person he needs for interpreter. Mutual attraction leads them into the closest relations, and it is but just to Malinche to state that there is no indication of her knowledge of the Conqueror's wife in Cuba, until she arrives at the Capitol. There is also nothing to indicate more than a momentary estrangement between Malinche and Catalina.

Catalina lived but about three months after her arrival at Mexico; and it seems that Malinche a.s.sumes the same relations as before, when Cortez journeys South, where in time they reach the precincts of the maiden's nativity, and she meets her mother, after all the years of their cruel separation. Here the beautiful sincerity of the Christianity she had espoused, shines forth as she quiets her mother's fears, and professes to doubt her mother's original intent to sell her. She loads her mother with jewels and seems to cherish no feeling not consistent with the warmest relations of daughter and mother.

The statement soon after is, that Cortez presents her to Don Xamarillo with all the sanction of marriage, and he enriches her with some of the largest estates in her native province; and there the historic account closes. Incidentally, it is mentioned that a son was born during the period of this _affaire du coeur_.

I stated that the historic account closes here, but M. Charny and others enlarge on the traditionary feeling of South Eastern Mexico, and if we may credit his statements (and many times tradition carries more heart and more of the essential elements of truth in it than the cold pencil of history), Malinche is so woven into the social structure as to become almost the patron saint of that part of the country.

And Prescott (rather inclined to the fruit than the blossom of history) speaks of Malinche as being reverently held by the Aztec descendants as the guardian angel of Chapultepec.

I have endeavored thus to present the salient features of this part of the historic drama, adding and enlarging only as it became necessary to connect the events and do justice to the fair subject of the endeavor; and whatever criticism may be offered, I can, without hesitancy, claim the credit of candor and a desire to eliminate from all the facts of the case the plain, unvarnished truth.

I began at first to write the idyl in nine-syllabic measure, but soon found myself cramped in expression, and in recopying I have thrown off restraint and used the double terminal with both nine and ten syllables, having no desire and finding no occasion to use the eight syllable measure which Longfellow has so immortalized in the "Song of Hiawatha."

The sacred relations of man and wife, like those of any other _sacrament_ entered into voluntarily, are no less binding in the _spirit_ than in the _letter_ of the law; and it is a gratifying truth that the statutes of many of the States of the Union are being so remodeled as to recognize the _fact_, rather than the _form_ of marriage; and the tendency is, certainly toward the correction of many abuses, as leading to a more enlarged knowledge of social responsibilities.

As long as the sad story of Malinche has a present application, and may be said to be the perspective of the grossly distorted foreground of our social structure, so long will its rehearsal have its use in the world; and I only regret that a stronger hand and a more perfect pen might not have been loaned to its portrayal.

H. H. RICHMOND.

MALINCHE.

Old Painnalla of Coat-za-cual-co, Pa.s.sing down the road of the "Conquest,"

Through the silent portals of Lethe, Was greatest of Mexican hamlets; The birthplace of brown-eyed Malinche, Whom the Spaniards call Dona Marina; And the n.o.ble Cacique, great Tezpitla, With his shrew of a wife, Zunaga-- All are names deserving of story, For they cling to the garment of greatness.

A daughter is born to Zunaga, And the worthy Cacique Tezpitla, Though he warms to the little stranger, Had hoped that the G.o.ds would have given A son and Cacique for the province.

They named their young daughter Malinche; The priest called the G.o.ds to protect her, And sprinkled her brow and her bosom With water, the purest of emblems; Commends her to Tez-cat-li-po-ca, The soul of the earth and the heavens; To Quet-zal-coatl, G.o.d of the harvest; And at all the shrines with their homage, They offered the richest of jewels.

Tezpitla soon sleeps with his fathers, And Malinche, too young to have known him, Has hardly begun with her prattle, Ere he pa.s.ses away to the sunset, To the palace of gold Tonatu', Where his warriors had gone on before him To their rest, in the dazzling chambers That shine from the face of the day G.o.d.

Zunaga a little while murmurs, And mourns at the chieftain's departure, When Mohotzin, a friend of Tezpitla (Who had shared oft times in his battles And sat many times at his table), In sympathy visits the widow; And his sympathy turns to wooing, His wooing and winning are easy.

For Zunaga (the name of the faithless) Yields a ready ear to his sighing, And pity is parent of loving.

The bride takes the place of the widow, And the funeral leads to the wedding.

A son is soon born to Mohotzin, And the sire with the faithless Zunaga, Bend their heads to the hurt of the helpless, To disherit the artless daughter; She sends up inquisitive glances, To the guilty eyes of her parents.

Thus the perfect faith of our childhood, Stands to smite at the evil endeavor, Yet how is it cruelly wounded By the cunning hand of its kindred!

She is sold as a slave to the merchants, Whose itinerant traffic encounters This cruel and conscienceless couple.

Scarcely five years the miniature maiden, When decoyed from her favorite pastimes, Under guise of a frolicsome journey; She is hurried away into bondage, To gain the estate for her brother.

And all this is done under shadow To cover the basest of actions.

Malinche is said to be dying, The mother is bent at the bedside, Where is laid the child of a servant; It dies, to complete the deception, And Zunaga bewails, as is fitting In well painted actions, the daughter.

The funeral pageant is greater Than the one attending Tezpitla; And thus, did the misnomered mother Strive to hide the print of her sinning.

How fares it with bonnie Malinche, Thus stung in the morn of her childhood?

The merchants have gone to Tabasco, The slaves are the bearers of burden, The maid is thus borne from her kindred.

She, too young to plead for ransom, Little heeds the force of her venture; And in time, they have traversed the river, And have reached the town of Tabasco.

The merchants immured in their traffic, Sell the maid to a wealthy landlord, The worthy Cacique of the province.

Thus cruelly shorn of her birthright, Malinche grows up as a servant In the house of this wealthy master, The playmate and charm of his children.

She gathers the boon of contentment With the easy faith of her childhood.

Her mother is almost forgotten, When a former nurse of Zunaga, Having served the time of her ransom, Has sought the Cacique for employment.

She knows the whole piteous story, Of the maid and her heartless mother; Her soul is drawn back to the maiden, And she knows, with the whole of her nature, That this is her old master's daughter.

And Malinche, across the threshold, Calls back all the thoughts of her childhood, And each feels the grasp of the other, And the past is all plain to Malinche.

The n.o.ble Cacique of Tabasco Heard all of the pitiful story, And swore, by the G.o.ds, to avenge her "Of her cruel and faithless mother, With her heart as hard as the itztli, The sanctified blade of the prophet."

He would seek the king, Moctheuzoma, That ruled in the city of temples, Tenocht.i.tlan, greatest of cities, And tell him the tale of Malinche, That all of her wrongs might be righted And the maiden restored to her birthright.

But, in the white heat of his anger, A stranger appears at the river-- 'Tis the pale-faced chief, and his army, With his soldiers clad like the fishes, With the shining scales for their frontlets, With their weapons charged with the lightning, Like the thunderbolts of great Thaloc, With their four-legged G.o.ds, like the bison, With the head of a man in the center, And the flaming nostril distended, Breathing fire, like the front of a dragon, When they shake the earth with their tramping.

Surely these were the legates of heaven, Great Quetzalcoatl, surely fought with them.

And in vain was the chieftain's endeavor, Tabasco soon fell to their prowess, And they must now purchase appeas.e.m.e.nt.

And the worthy Cacique of Tabasco Forgets all his pledges of ransom, And Malinche is one of the twenty, Of the maids that he gives to Cortez.

As pure as the bright water lily That shines from the rim of Tezcuco; As bright as the rays of Tonatu', Rising out of the gulf of Mexitli; As chaste as the moon in its glances, At the mirroring face of Chalco; As fresh as the breezes that banquet The morn in the isles of the spices-- Even such was the Maid of Painnalla, The beautiful brown-eyed Malinche.

Cortez has been seeking a sponsor To ravel the intricate language, When he is informed of the maiden, And she is first brought to his presence.

A favorite child of the household, She is robed in the neatest of vestures.

The feather-cloth covers her shoulders, Her waist is enclosed with a girdle Holding skirt of the finest of cotton, Her feet on the daintiest sandals, Her face, veiled with gossamer pita, Lends the highest charm to her blushes.

With Aguilar first she converses (He had lived some years with the natives, Borne ash.o.r.e where his vessel had stranded).

She had learned all the various shadings, The many and quaint dialections, Of the several Anahuac nations; And not long till the n.o.ble Castilian Yields its palm to her ready conquest.

The mighty commander, brave Cortez, With his piercing dark eyes, was her teacher; For love is the aptest of pupils, And the heart is your ready translator.

The words of the Chief were no longer The meaningless voice of the stranger, But the language of Spain and of heaven.

Cortez, cast a thought to the island; To his early love, Catalina; To the prison of fierce Velasquez; His reluctant marriage in Cuba.

Yet, how faithful had been the Dona!

And never yet had been broken _His_ pledges of perfect devotion; But the morals of Hispagniola Are subject to easiest bending.

The priest giving ready indulgence To sins that are nearest to nature, And Malinche, robbed of her birthright And denied the boon of a mother, Had only her love to direct her, Which led her unerring to Cortez; He opened his arms to receive her, (She, the purest jewel of Aztlan) And, as moth falls into the torchlight, She fell to his brilliant alluring.

If purest of wifely devotion, With its love that is _all_ of woman, If the absence of wrong intention In the innocent glow of nature, Uninspired by the shadow of evil, Made her wife, she was wife of Cortez.

Not a whisper of Catalina, His beautiful wife on the island, Had the chieftain given the maiden; And she felt as free as the water On the rugged brink of 'Morenci; As the bee to gather the honey From the nectaries on the mountains And the multiple bloom of the valleys.