When Montezuma had concluded his address, there was a general silence for several minutes, but gradually a low murmur began and soon grew into an uproar of protest. The boldest and most insolent of the crowd hurled invectives at their ruler and shouted that he was no longer Emperor of Mexico but a miscreant, a wretch, and a miserable slave of the enemy of their fatherland. Montezuma tried to speak and motioned with his hand for silence but in vain. There was a great bustle and in an instant arrows and stones were hurled at him. The two soldiers at his side whom Cortes had sent with him tried to cover him with their shields, but it was too late. His cup of sorrow was filled. He was pierced by many arrows, and a blow upon the head by a stone felled him senseless.
Amazed at this unfortunate event, Cortes had the almost lifeless monarch taken to his own house, to save him if possible, and then, flaming with anger, rushed back to take a bloody revenge, but he was too late. Hardly had they seen their Emperor fall when the Mexicans scattered, as if expecting fire from heaven to descend upon them for this cruel deed. In the meantime Montezuma regained consciousness but his condition was pitiable. The thought of his subjects’ conduct made him almost insane. They had to hold his hands to prevent him from doing injury to himself. Cortes vainly tried to quiet him. He rejected all offers of consolation, tore the bandages from his wounds, and tried to put an end to his life. These passionate outbreaks and his obstinate refusal to take nourishment hastened his death. He died uttering imprecations against his subjects and disappointed the anticipations of the Spaniards by rejecting with great contempt at the last moment the proffer of the Christian faith. When Father Olmedo, kneeling at his side, raised the cross and earnestly entreated him to embrace it, he coldly repulsed the priest and said: “I have only a few hours to live and I will not be untrue to the faith of my fathers.” The fate of his children, especially of his three daughters, rested heavily upon his mind. He called Cortes to his bedside and committed these children to his care as the most precious jewels he should leave behind him. He implored him to see that they were not left helpless and that they had their rightful share of his inheritance. “Your ruler, the King of Spain, should do this,” said Montezuma, “were it only for the friendly service I have rendered the Spaniards, and the affection I have shown them, which has brought me to this wretched plight. But even that has not turned me against them.” These, according to Cortes’ statement, were the last words of the dying Emperor. Not long after this, on the thirtieth of June, 1520, he died in the arms of one of his nobles, who had always been faithful to him. As long as Montezuma lay suffering from his wounds his subjects remained quiet, but hardly had he died when they prepared for the choice of a new ruler and the immediate resumption of hostilities. Montezuma’s successor was his brother, Cuitlahua, a brave and warlike prince, who died suddenly from small-pox four months after he became Emperor.