University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

When morning broke over the lake, the voyagers
were still at a league's distance from the city. The
wind had died away, the clouds parted in the heaven,
and long before the sunlight trembled on
the snows of Iztaccihuatl, the morning-star was
seen peeping over its summit. It bade fair for a
goodly day, and Juan, despite his situation, which,
rightly considered, was in every point of view,
wretched enough, began to feel a sensation of
pleasure, as he breathed the fresh air at liberty,
and looked around him on the fair prospects, disengaging
themselves each moment from the rolling
mists. Though the tops of the higher mountains
of the east were visible, the lower borders of the
lake in that quarter, as well as to the north and
south, were yet concealed under vapours. In the
west, however, the view was but little obstructed,
and he could behold, distinctly enough, the dense
masses of edifices, which covered the whole island
of Mexico and many a broad acre of water around
it. The huge pyramids, with their tower-like sanctuaries,
rose proudly, as of yore, high above the
surrounding buildings; the turrets and pinnacles,
that crowned the royal palaces and the houses of
nobles, still gleamed in the morning air; and, as he
drew nigh, he could see the gardens of shrubs and
flowers on the terraces, which gave to the whole
city a look of verdure strange and beautiful to behold.

As soon as objects became distinct, Techeechee,
observing that Juan's garments were yet dripping
with wet, took from the prow of the canoe a little
bundle, from which he drew a broad, richly ornamented
tilmaltli, or cloak, a maxtlatl, or cloth to
wrap round the loins, sandals for the feet, fillets
for the hair, and a fan of feathers to protect the
eyes from sunshine. These he proffered to Juan,
giving him to understand that he should forthwith
doff his Christian weeds, and appear in the guise
of a Mexican noble; telling him, at the same time,
that they had been provided by Guatimozin, in anticipation
of his deliverance. Yet neither remonstrance
nor entreaty could prevail upon him to do
more than throw off his reeking surcoat, and supply
its place by the Indian cloak, which was of
sufficient capacity, when folded about his person,
almost to conceal his under attire, now in a great
measure dried by the warmth of his body. This
being accomplished to his satisfaction, Techeechee
resumed his paddle, and fixing his eyes upon the
imperial city, began to mumble, in an under voice,
certain snatches of native airs, which, both in
quality and pitch, bore no little resemblance to the
suppressed growlings, or rather the groaning of an
imprisoned lion, and which, had Juan required any
such testimony, would have proved how little his
commerce with the Conquerors and his personal
affection for himself, had withdrawn his heart
from the people and the faith of Montezuma.
As he advanced still nearer to the city, his air
grew more confident, his tones more resolute and
animated; and, by and by, without seeming to regard
the presence of the young Spaniard, he lanched
boldly into a sort of national anthem, in which the
military pride of the Mexicans was mingled with
the gloom of their ferocious superstitions. The
melody was rude and savage,—or rather it was

no melody at all, but a chant or recitative, which
was relieved from monotony only by the variations
of emphasis, which became stronger and stronger,
as the distance waxed less and less to the city. To
express the words employed in any of the metrical
modes of civilized song, would be to rob the roundelay
of its identity; for rhythm and melody were equally
set at defiance;—at least, so it would have seemed
to an ear accustomed only to the natural music of
iambics and dactyls. We will therefore express
them in unambitious prose, only premising that before
the barbarian had proceeded far in the chant,
the song was caught up and continued by the
warriors in the fleet of canoes, now paddling out
of the mists behind, and by many infidels who
watched its approach from the shore, and from
an island crag, strongly fortified, that lay a little
to the east of the city.

“Mexitli Tetzauhteotl,[1] o-ah! o-ah!” thus sang
the pagan,—“the son of the woman[2] of Tula.
`Mother, I will protect you.'[3] The green plume
is on his head, the wing of the eagle is on his leg,
his forehead is blue like the firmament; he carries
a spear and buckler, and with the fir-tree of Colhuacan,[4]
he crushes the mountains. `Mother, I
will protect you.' Am not I the son of Mexico? and
is not Mexico the daughter of Mexitli? O-ah,
o-ah! Mexitli Tetzauhteotl!

“My father ate the heart of Xochimilco! Where
was Painalton, the god of the swift foot, when the
Miztecas ran to the mountains? `Fast, warrior,
fast!' said Painalton, brother of Mexitli. His footprint
is on the snows of Iztaccihuatl, and on the
roof of Orizaba.[5] Tochtepec and Chinantla, Matlatzinco
and Oaxaca, they shook under his feet, as
the hills shake, when Mictlanteuctli, king of hell,
groans in the caverns. So my father killed the
men of the south, the men of the east and west,
and Mexitli shook the fir-tree with joy, and Painalton
danced by night among the stars.

“Where is the end of Mexico? It begins in
Huehuetapallan in the north, and who knows the
place of Huehuetapallan?[6] In the south, it sees
the lands of crocodiles and vultures,—the bog and
the rock, where man cannot live. The sea washes
it on the east, the sea washes it on the west, and
that is the end—Who has looked to the end of the
waters? It is the land of blossoms,—the land of
the tiger-flower, and the cactus-bud that opens at
night like a star,—of the flower-of-the-dead,[7] that
ghosts come to snuff at, and of the hand-flower,[8]
which our gods planted among the hills. It is a
land dear to Mexitli.

“Who were the enemies of Mexico? Their heads
are in the walls of the House of Skulls, and the

little child strikes them, as he goes by, with a
twig. Once, Mexico was a bog of reeds, and
Mexitli slept on a couch of bulrushes: our god
sits now on a world of gold, and the world is Mexico.
Will any one fight me? I am a Mexican.—Mexitli
is the god of the brave. Our city is fair on the
island, and Mexitli sleeps with us. When he calls
me in the morning, I grasp the quiver,—the quiver
and the axe; and I am not afraid. When he winds
his horn from the temple, I know that he is my father,
and that he looks at me, while I fight. Sound
the horn of battle, for I see the spear of a foe!
Mexitli Tetzauteotl, we are the men of Mexico!”

With such roundelays as these, echoed at a distance
by the rowers in the fleet and by many barbarians
from the buildings that projected into the
lake, Techeechee urged the light canoe through a
sluice in the northern dike, and approached that
long neck or peninsula, once the island of Tlatelolco,
but long since united to that of Tenochtitlan,
which gave its name to the fifth quarter of the city,
and, as it afterwards appeared, was the site of the
noblest of the many palaces, built at different periods,
by the kings of Mexico. A large portion of
the peninsula, midway between its extremity and
the ancient bank of the island of Tenochtitlan, was
occupied by a garden, divided from the lake by a
wall lofty enough to secure it against the assault of
a foe, and yet sufficiently low to expose to the eye
of a spectator on the lake, the rich luxuriance of
groves, among whose waving boughs could be
traced the outlines of a spacious edifice, profusely
decorated with turrets and observatories, some of
which were of great height and singular structure.

Against this wall, through a fleet of fishing canoes,
now paddling out into the lake, Techeechee
seemed to direct the little skiff, much to Juan's surprise,

until, having drawn nigher, he perceived that
it was perforated by several gateways or sallyports,
very low, and evidently designed to give entrance
only to the humble vessels which composed the
Mexican navy. The largest was wide enough to
admit two or three of the largest piraguas abreast,
and the smaller ones seemed intended only for the
private gondolas of the royal family. All were defended
by stout wickets, which, as Juan soon perceived,
were raised and let fall from within, somewhat
in the manner of a portcullis.

The tranquillity that seemed to reign within this
sanctified recess, betrayed at once its royal character.
In every other quarter of the city, as he
passed it, Juan could hear a roaring hum, as if proceeding
from a vast multitude pent within the narrow
island,—as was indeed the case, the whole
military strength of the empire being concentrated
within the limits of the island and the shore-cities
that commanded the causeways. But here all was
a profound calm, broken only by the songs of birds,
and, occasionally, by what seemed the cry of some
tamed and domesticated beast of prey.

As Techeechee urged the canoe towards one of
the smaller gateways, Juan beheld the wicket
ascend from the water, but without seeing by whom
or in what manner, it was raised. An instant after,
he was on the very point of entering the narrow
chasm, perhaps never more to repass it. He turned
his eye back again to the lake, and strove to discover
the dim lines and masses of shore and city,
palace and pyramid, among which he had so lately
dwelt in sorrow and confinement. The mists were
nearly dispersed, and the sky was clear; but the
fiery track of the rising sun over the lake, dazzled
his eyes, and, with a veil of radiance, hid the towers
of Tezcuco. He caught an indistinct view of two
or three brigantines, becalmed at a distance from

the shore, which they were endeavouring to regain
by the force of oars; but the city of the Acolhuacanese
was no longer visible; and by and by, the
whole prospect of the lake was shut out by the garden
wall, under which he had passed. He had
scarce turned away his eyes, when the wicket
sunk, with a plunge, into the water. He looked
back: but those who had loosed it, were already
hidden among the shrubbery. It seemed as if the
falling of that portal had shut him out for ever from
the society of his countrymen. His companions
were now to be found among the uncivilized and
the godless.

A narrow canal, bordered with banks of flowers,
conducted the canoe from the gateway to a little
stone basin, planted round with trees, at the roots
of which were placed carved blocks of stone, as if
designed for seats. Here Techeechee sprang ashore,
followed by Juan and Befo, the latter now completely
refreshed, and, though evidently somewhat
surprised, and even daunted, by the novelty of his
situation, without showing any symptoms of having
repented his change of masters.

“The Great Eagle is in the house of the king, his
brother,” said the Ottomi, “and his enemies cannot
reach him,—no, not even if they were the Tlatoani
of the great city. Sit down then, and be at peace;
for presently the king will come from the lake, and
speak to his brother. Techeechee will go to the
wall and look out. The big tiger,—the dog,—
Pepo.”—He had already acquired the dog's name,
or as near an approach to it as his organs could
overmaster, and was not a little pleased, when the
animal, raising his head at the sound, stalked amicably
towards him, rubbing his nose against him
in token of good-will. “Pepo! amigo, friend, good
rascal!” he said, affectionately, but not without
some nervousness—“very pretty Pepo, Techeechee's

brother. Guatimozin is the Young Eagle's
brother; Techeechee will be Pepo's!” Then, Befo
having returned to Juan, he continued, “Let not
Pepo roam through the garden; the watchmen on
the walls would think him a tiger escaped from his
cage, and shoot him with arrows. This is the Pool
of the Full Moon: here the king will come to his
brother.”

So saying, Techeechee glided away through the
shrubbery, and was presently seen ascending the
wall, by certain steep steps constructed for the purpose,
up to a ledge, undoubtedly prepared to give
footing to defenders, from which he could overlook
the outer parapet, and enjoy an extensive view of
the lake.

And now the outcast Juan, after giving way, for
a few moments, to a grief that was the stronger
perhaps, from the opportunity thus offered of indulging
it in secret, began gradually to be moved
by other feelings, in which curiosity soon became
predominant; and looking about him, he beheld
with his own eyes an example of the strange and
barbaric magnificence which characterized the royal
gardens of Anahuac.

The sun was already high in the east, and the
last rain-drop was exhaling from the leaf. The sky
was cloudless, the waters were at rest. It was such
a day as lent beauty to objects not in themselves
fair; and to the green brilliance of foliage and the
harmonious hues of flowers it imparted a loveliness
as dear to the imagination as the senses. It was
the spring time, too,—the season of Nature's triumph
and rejoicing.

The Pool of the Full Moon, as Techeechee had
called it, doubtless, from its circular shape, and its
diminutive size, was surrounded by a wall of trees
as dense as that which enclosed the memorable
pond in the garden of Tezcuco. But besides the

addition of the stone seats and basin, it was ornamented
with banks of the richest flowers, behind
which rose a thick setting of shrubbery; and from
the branches of the trees hung rich tufts and festoons
of that gray moss—the Barba de España,
which gives an air of such indescribable solemnity
to the forests of the lower Mississippi. A few little
birds warbled among the boughs, and the field-cricket
chirped in the bushes. In other respects
the place was silent and wholly solitary; and as
its green walls shut out almost altogether the
spectacles disclosed from other places, Juan left it,
after seeing that Techeechee maintained his stand
on the wall, as if the fleet were still at a distance.

He now perceived that the garden, though very
beautiful, was a labyrinth, or rather, as it seemed,
a wilderness of groves, glades, and fountains, some
of which last burst from mounds of stone, that were
the pedestals of rude and fantastic statues, perhaps
idols, and some spouted up into the air, from the
mouths of porphyry serpents and dragons, as if the
science of hydraulics had already begun to dawn
upon the minds of the Mexican artisans. The
noblest cypresses rose over the humblest vine, and
many a convolvulus rolled its cataract of flowers
over the tops of lesser trees, and many an aloe,
from a vast pyramid of leaves, reared up its lofty
pillar, crowned with a yellow canopy of blossoms.
All the splendour of the vegetable world known to
Anahuac, found its place in this magnificent retreat:
and the plants of the lower zones, and even
the palms of the coast, had been made to thrive side
by side with those productions which were natural
to the elevated valley.

Besides these ornaments and a thousand similar,
the animal kingdom was made to add a charm,
and, as it soon appeared, a horror to the royal garden;
for Juan had no sooner left the pool, than he

beheld, besides a thousand birds of every dye
among the trees, some half dozen deer frisking
over the glades, and heard at but a little distance,
the roar of fiercer animals, such as came to his ears,
while he was yet on the lake.

At a sound so hostile, Befo bristled and uttered
a low bark, as if to apprize his master of the presence
of danger; but Juan knew enough of the
habits of the Mexican kings to understand that their
gardens, besides enclosing all that was beautiful
among plants, contained also aviaries and menageries,
in which were collected the birds and beasts
of their empire;—in other words, they were Zoological
Gardens, such as the advance of science is
now establishing in the countries of Europe. A
little fawn, feeding hard by, started with more terror
at this unusual cry of Befo, than at any of the
howls to which it had been long accustomed, and
ran timidly away. As it fled, Juan remarked that
its neck was encircled by a chaplet of flowers, as
if lately put on by some caressing hand.

At this sight a new impulse seemed to seize the
youth. He faltered, hesitated, cast his eye to the
wall, on which Techeechee was yet standing, and
then marking the quarter whither the little animal
had fled, he beckoned to Befo to take post at his
heels, and immediately followed.

He soon found himself among a maze of copses,
among which were scattered divers cages or
baskets, of great strength, secured to the trunks of
trees, and little paddocks equally strong, each containing
some ferocious or untameable beast, many
of them brought from the most distant provinces.
Thus he beheld,—besides an abundant display of
pumas or mitzlis, (the maneless lion,) jaguars,
wolves, ounces, and wild dogs,—the bison of Chihuahua
staggering in his pen, the antelope or pronghorn
of the north, and even the great bear from the

ridges of the Oregon or Rocky Mountains. The
tapir of Guatemala rolled by his fenny pool, and
the peccary herded hard by. Here were apes,
ant-eaters, porcupines, and a thousand other animals;
and among them, imprisoned with the same
jealous care, in suitable cages, were the reptiles of
the country,—lizards and adders, and all the family
of the Crotalus, from the common rattlesnake of
America to that frightful one of Mexico and South
America, which has been distinguished as especially
the Horrid. Here was the phosphorescent
cencoatl, whose path through the bushes and grass
by night is said to be indicated by the gleaming
light of his body; the tlilcoa, or great black serpent
of the mountains, and the still more formidable
and gigantic canauhcoatl, or Boa-Constrictor,
which, like his neighbour, the cayman or crocodile,
from the same boiling fens of the coast, made his
prey upon the largest stags, and even human beings.
With these were many smaller snakes, distinguished
for their beauty, and sometimes their docility,
some of which latter, entirely harmless, were allowed
to crawl about at liberty.

It would require a book by itself, to particularize
and describe all the members of this fearful convocation
of monsters; of which it was afterwards
written by Bernal Diaz, that when the beasts and
reptiles were provoked and irritated, so as to howl
and hiss together, `the palace seemed like hell itself.'
It is very certain that Befo lost much of his
dignity of carriage at the mere sight of such assembled
terrors, creeping along reluctantly and
with draggling tail; and Juan himself was not
without some sensations of alarm, as he found himself
now startled by the growl of an angry mitzli,
now perturbed by the sudden rustling of a boa
among the dried reeds of his couch. The rattle-snakes
shook their castanets at his approach, the

cayman tumbled, with a sudden plunge, into his
muddy pool, the wolf showed his sharp teeth, and
the ape darted towards him from the tree, with a
wild, chattering, and half hostile scream. But he
had remarked that the little fawn directed its
course immediately through the thickest of the
assemblage; and if that circumstance did not convince
him of the safety of the path, he was certainly
ashamed to show less courage than the young of
a doe. He therefore trudged onwards, and, in a
few moments, exchanged the scene for one less
frightful, though not less striking.

He was now among the birds of Mexico. A
grove,—it might have seemed a forest,—of lofty
trees, was covered over with a curious contrivance
of nets, some of which were confined to their tops,
while others were made to surround the shrubbery
at their roots, in all which were confined the noisy
prisoners. Other nets were flung over little
pools, whose banks and surface were enlivened by
the presence of water-fowl. In some places cages
were hung upon the trees, containing the more
precious or unmanageable captives. Through this
grove one might penetrate in all conceivable directions,
and seem to be confined along with its feathered
inhabitants, and yet be really separated from
them by the nets.

The outer portion or border of the grove, was
devoted to the endless tribe of parrots, whose magnificent
colours gave a beauty to the treetops, not
to be lessened even by the horrid clamour of their
voices. The singing birds were confined within
the silent recesses of its centre.

If curiosity and a mere love of barbarous display,
without other motive, had collected together in the
gardens of Mexico her beasts and reptiles, utility
had some little influence in the selection of her
birds. Their feathers were devoted to a thousand

purposes of ornament, and among others, to the
construction of those very singular Mosaic works,
or pictures, which have won the admiration even
of European painters and virtuosos. But while
thus providing for the supply of one of the most
elegant of wants, the Mexican kings secured to
themselves the means of adding the loveliest and
most natural feature to their gardens. It would
be impossible to convey any just idea of the splendid
creatures that went wandering and leaping, like
sunbeams, among the leaves and over the grass.
Eagles and kites sat on the trees, and storks, herons,
and flamingos stalked through the pools.
Here the macaw flashed, screaming, through the
boughs; there the wood-pigeon sat cooing by his
mate. The little madrugador, or early-riser, the
happiest of his species, who chirps up his companions,
when the morning-star peeps from the horizon,
repeated his jovial note; the white-sparrow,
the calandra, the cardinal, the sable-and-golden orible,
and the little spotted tiger-bird, added their
charming voices; and the Centzontli, or mocking-bird,
as it is trivially called, for it is worthy of a
name much more poetical and dignified, whistled
and sang with such a power and variety of melody,
as left all other songsters in the back-ground. The
little chupa rosas,—rose-pickers, or humming-birds,
—darted about from blossom to blossom, needing
and acknowledging no bonds save those of attachment
to their favourite flowers.

Through this delightful grove Juan stepped, enchanted
with its music; and following a pleasant
path, over which there echoed no notes louder than
those of the little wood-pigeon, such as the traveller
yet hears cooing in the copse that surmounts the
mouldered pyramid of Cholula, he was soon introduced
to a spectacle more striking, more lovely,
and to him far more captivating, than any he had
yet beheld.