University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

The walls of Mexico were the foaming surges of
her lake. The cities on the shore, when much exposed
by defencelessness of site, great wealth of inhabitants,
or other causes, to the attacks of enemies,
were surrounded by walls, commonly of
earth, though sometimes, as in the case of Tezcuco,
of stone. These were, ordinarily, of no great
height or strength, but sufficient, when well manned,
to repel the assaults of the slingers and archers
of America.

The external fortifications of Tezcuco were, as
became the ancient rival of Tenochtitlan, of a more
imposing order. The walls were thick and high,
with embattled parapets, and deep ditches at the
base. The gates were protected in the manner
common to the land, by the overlapping, so to
speak, of the opposite walls; that is, being made,
as they approached each other, to change from their
straight, to a circular course, the one traversing
upon a greater radius than the other, they thus
swept by and round each other, in parallel curves,
leaving a long and narrow passage between them,
commanded not only by the walls themselves, but
by strong stone turrets, built on their extremities.

Besides these defences, there was erected within
the walls, and directly opposed to each entrance, a
small pyramid, elevated fifteen or twenty feet above
the walls, and crowned with little sanctuaries,—
thus serving a religious as well as a military purpose.

In the one sense, these structures might be
considered Chapels of Ease to the greater temples
of the quarters in which they stood; in the other,
they were not unlike the cavaliers, or commanding
mounds, of European fortification, from the tops
and sides of which the besieger could be annoyed,
whilst without the walls, and arrested on his course,
when within.

Thus, then, there were ready to his hands, fortifications,
of which the Spanish commander, now
the Captain-General of New Spain, as the unsubdued
Mexico was already called, was not slow to
reap the full advantage. A strong guard of Castilian
soldiers was posted before each gate; a native
watchman sat on each turret; and a line of Tlascalan
sentries, stepping proudly along in their
places of trust, occupied the lofty terrace of the
walls.

The edifices disclosed to Juan, when he had,
with his companions, passed through the staring
warders into the town, were similar to those of
Mexico,—of stone, and low, though often adorned
with turrets. In all cases, the roofs were terraced,
and covered with shrubs and flowers; and the
passion of the citizens for such delightful embellishments,
had converted many a spacious square into
gardens, wherein fluttered and warbled birds of a
thousand hues and voices.

Over these open spaces were seen, in different
quarters, the tops of high pyramids and towers,
scattered about the town in vast and picturesque
profusion.

The roaring sound of life that pervades a great
city, even when unassisted by the thundering din
of wheeled carriages, gave proof enough of the
dense multitudes that inhabited Tezcuco. The eye
detected the evidences of a population still more astonishing,
in the myriads of tawny bodies that
crowded the streets, the gardens, the temple

squares, and the housetops, many of whom seemed
to have no other habitation. In fact, the introduction
of the many thousands who composed the
train, or, as it was called, the Army of the Brigantines,
added to the hosts of other warriors previously
collected by Cortes, and the presence of the original
inhabitants, gave to Tezcuco that appearance
of an over-crowded, suffocating vitality, which is
presented by the modern Babylons of France and
Great Britain. The murmur of voices, the pattering
of feet, the rustling of garments, with the sounds
of instruments wielded by artisans, both native and
Christian, made, together, a din that seemed like
the roar of a tempest to the ears of one, who, like
Lerma, had just escaped from the mute hills and
the silent forests of the desert. At a distance—beheld
from the cypress-tree,—the view of Tezcuco
seemed to embrace a scene made up of tranquillity
and repose. The same thing is true of all other
cities; and the same thing may be said of human life,
when we sit aloof and contemplate the bright pageant,
in which we take no part. If we advance
and mingle with it, the picture is turned to life, the
peace to tumult, and we lose all the charms of the
prospect in the distractions of participation.

As Juan, conducted by the Alguazil, made his
way through the torrents of bodies which poured
through every street, and became more accustomed
to move among them, the excitement gradually
subsided in his breast, the colour faded from his
cheeks; and, by the time he had reached the end
of his journey, there remained no expression on his
visage beyond that of its usual and characteristic
sadness. This was deepened, perhaps, by the
scene around him; for it is the virtue of melancholy,
where it exists as a temperament, or has become
a settled trait, to be increased by the excitements
of a city or crowd. Perhaps it was darkened also
by the reflection, as he raised his eyes to the vast

palace in which Cortes had established his head-quarters,
that among all its crowds,—the military
guards at the door, and the lounging courtiers
within,—there was not a single friend waiting to
rejoice over his return.

The house of Nezahualcojotl, who has been already
mentioned as the most famous and refined of
the Tezcucan kings, possessed but little to distinguish
it from the edifices of nobles around, except
its greatness of extent. It was a pile or cluster
of many houses built of vast blocks of basalt, well
cut and polished, surrounding divers courts and
gardens,—what might be termed the wings consisting
of but a basement story, which was relieved
from monotony by the presence of towers and battlements,
and the sculptured effigies of animals and
serpents on the walls, and particularly around the
narrow loops which served for windows. The
centre, or principal portion, had an additional story,
loftier towers, and more imposing sculptures. The
windows were carved of stone, so as to resemble
the yawning mouths of beasts of prey; the battlements
were crouching tigers; and the pillars of the
great door were palm-trees, round the trunks of
which twined two immense serpents, whose necks
met at the lintel, among the interlocking branches,
and embraced and supported a huge tablet, on
which was engraven the Aztec calendar, according
to the singular and yet just system of the ancient
native astronomers.—Sixty years after this period,
the sages of Europe discovered and adopted a mode
of adjusting the civil to the astronomical time, so
as to avoid, for the future, the confusion—the utter
disjointing of seasons—which had been the consequence
of the Julian computation. At this very
moment, the barbarians of America were in possession
of a system, which enabled them to anticipate,
and rectify by proper intercalations, the disorders
not only of years, but of cycles,—and how

much earlier, the wisdom of civilization has not yet
divined.

On the whole, there was something not less impressive
than peculiar in the appearance of an edifice
which had sheltered a long line of Autochthonous
monarchs; and as Juan passed from the
square, in front of the artillery that commanded it,
under the folds of the mighty serpents at the door,
and into the sombre shadows of the interior, he was
struck with a feeling of awe, which was not immediately
removed even by the more stirring emotions
of the instant.

The hall, or rather vestibule, in which he now
found himself, was distinguished, rather than animated,
by the presence of many Spaniards of high
and low degree, some clustered together in groups,
some stalking to and fro in haughty solitude, while
others bustled about with an air of importance and
authority; but all, as Lerma quickly observed, preserving
a decorous silence,—conversing in whispers,
and moving with a cautious tread, as if in the
anteroom of a king, instead of the hall of a soldier-of-fortune
like themselves.

A few of them bent their eyes upon the strangers,
and stepped forward to survey their savage equipments.
The keen glances which they cast towards
him, the hurried and somewhat sonorous exclamations
with which they pointed him out to one another,
but more than all, the presence of Najara, of
Bernal Diaz, and of the stranger Camarga, among
them, convinced Juan that he was recognized.
But with this conviction came also the sickening
consciousness that not one had a smile of satisfaction
to bestow upon him in the way of welcome.
He remembered the faces of many; and, once or
twice, he raised his hand, and half stepped forward,
to meet some one or other who seemed disposed to
salute him. He was deceived; those who came
nighest, were only the most curious. They nodded

their heads familiarly to Villafana; a few
returned the advances of Lerma with solemn and
reverential bows; but none raised up their heads
to meet the exile's advances.

“The curse of ingratitude follow you all, cold
knaves!” muttered Gaspar between his teeth. The
eyes of the Ottomi twinkled upon the groups, with
a mixture of wonder and malignant wrath. Juan
smothered his sighs, and strode onwards.

He stopped suddenly at a door, wreathed, like
the outer, with snakes, though carved of wood, over
which hung curtains of some dark and heavy texture,
and behind which, as it seemed to him, from
the murmuring of voices, was the apartment in
which the Captain-General gave audience to his
followers and the allied tribes of Mexico, who made
up what may be called, as it seemed to be considered,
his court. Here Juan paused, and turning
to the Alguazil, said, calmly, and with a low voice,

“From what I have seen and now see, I perceive,
it will not be fitting I should approach the general
—especially in these weeds, which can scarce
extenuate the coldness of my old companions,—
without the ceremony of an announcement and expressed
permission.”

“Fear not,” whispered Villafana, with a grim
smile: “thy friend Francisco will have done thee
this good turn. Remember—offend him not now:
but, still, lay claim to the horses.”

As he spoke, the Alguazil, pushed aside the curtain,
and, in a moment more, the youth was in the
presence of Cortes.