Hernán Cortés
I am practicing for the history degree.
Having completed a large history of Mexico, Fire & Blood, the most interesting section was 1519-1521, the conquering of Tenochtitlan (Mexico City) by Hernán Cortés.
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The writer of that book contrasted the fatalism of the Aztecs with the belief in Divine Providence of the conquistadores as being instrumental in the relatively swift defeat of Montezuma, though having large guns certainly played its part.
"Francisco Niño de Guelva, who was the pilot, didn't know he should steer the ship, and in the end they realised they no longer knew their position. The other sailors were astonished, the pilot was sad, and the passengers cried, and nobody knew the right course or what to do. The captain blamed the steersman, and the steersman blamed the captain; and so they fought. Food ran short, there was no more water on board, and they started to drink what little rain fell from the sky, and everybody confessed. Some cursed the entire venture, others begged for mercy, hoping for a swift death that would swallow them whole, and not to go to the land of the caribes, who cook their victims. And thus, they were in a state of tribulation, when there came to the boat a pigeon on Good Friday, that placed itself in the sun, sitting up in the rigging. All of them considered this a great sign; it seemed a miracle, they cried again, with pleasure now: some said it had come to console them, others that land must be nearby; and so, they gave thanks to God, and corrected the ship's course to where the bird had come from. The bird disappeared, causing fresh anguish; but nobody lost hope of seeing land soon; and so, later that same pascua, they sighted the island of Española (what today is Haiti/Dominican Republic); and Cristobal Zorzo, who was on watch, shouted, "Land! Land!"; in a joyful voice that comforted the sailors." (my translation, from Chapter II)
One observation that occurred to me, from the entire sweep of Mexican history, was, more generally, how often a conflict is only resolved by a definitive act of public cruelty. Once this cruelty is perpetrated, a newer, stronger order is affirmed, until pressures build up once more and a repeat ensues. A good example of this is the execution of Maximilan I, Emperor of Mexico, whose death was, on the one hand, needless, but was insisted upon by Benito Juarez, leader of the successful revolution. By executing by firing squad a member of the Hapsburg house, an unmistakable message was sent to Mexican conservatives who pined for the past glories of the Spanish Empire, and to the royal houses of Europe, a new order asserted itself, one that would not be beholden to any foreign power.
Here is one of Manet's five paintings of the execution of Maximilian, painted in the 1860s. It is said that the wall and the people staring over it were taken from another canvas, of a bullfighting scene, so Maximilian becomes a slaughtered animal, an object of ritual sacrifice, I suppose, make of that what you will.
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I am now reading, in the original, Francisco López de Gómara, and his Historia de la conquista de Mexico, first published in 1552, by a cleric who never actually set foot in the New World. This book is somewhat notorious for its unconcealed worship of Cortés, but is a necessary point of reference before studying Bernal Diaz de Castillo and his The True History of the Conquest of New Spain.
I apologise that I am not doing anything more exciting.