CHAPTER II.
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At these words, the worthy thus appealed to,
woke from his revery, and staring a moment in
some little perplexity at his companions, took up a
long copper-headed spear, which rested on the
ground at his side, and advanced towards them.
Viewed at a little distance, the gravity of his countenance
gave him an appearance of age, which vanished
on a nearer inspection. In reality, if his
own recorded account can be believed, (and heaven
forbid we should attach any doubt to the representations
of our excellent prototype,) he did not
number above twenty-six or twenty-seven years,
and was thus, as he chose to call himself, `a stripling.
' Young as he was, however, there was not
a man in the army of Cortes who had seen more,
or more varied service than Bernal Diaz del Castillo.
His exploits in the New World had commenced
seven years before, among the burning and
pestilential fens of Nombre de Dios,—a place made
still more odious to an aspiring youth by the ferocious
dissensions of its inhabitants, and that blood-thirsty
jealousy of its ruler, which had rewarded
with the block the man[2] who disclosed to Spain
the broad expanse of the Pacific, and led his subaltern,
Pizarro, to the shores of Peru. With the two
adventurers, Cordova and Grijalva, who had preceded
Cortes in the attempt upon the lands of Montezuma,
(discovered by the first,) Bernal Diaz
shared the wounds and misadventures of both
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expeditions; and he was among the first to join the
standard of Don Hernan, in the third and most
successful of the Spanish descents.
The hardships he had endured, the constant and
unmitigated suffering to which he had been exposed
for seven years, had given him much of the weatherbeaten
look of a veteran, which, added to the
sombre gravity of his visage, caused him to present,
at the first sight, the appearance of a man of forty
years or more. His garments were of a dusky red
cloth, padded into escaupil, with back and breast-pieces
of iron, over which was a long cloak of a
chocolate colour, well embroidered, and, though
much worn and tarnished, obviously a holiday suit.
To these were added a black velvet hat, ornamented
with three flamingo feathers, striking up like
the points of a trident, with the medal of a saint,
rudely wrought in gold, hanging beneath them.
His person was brawny, his face full and inexpressive;
his dull grey eyes indicated nothing but
simplicity and absence of mind, or rather inattentiveness;
and it required the presence of many
scars of several wounds on his countenance, to convince
a stranger that Bernal actually possessed the
fortitude to encounter such badges of honour.
He approached the group with a heavy and indolent
tread, bearing in his hand a bundle of leaves
of maguey paper, such as served the purposes of
the native painters and chroniclers of Anahuac, and
with which he was fain to supply the want of a
better material.
“Dost thou hear, señor Inmortalidad?” cried
Don Francisco de Guzman, as the martial annalist
took his seat serenely among the Castilians; “art
thou deaf, dumb, or still wrapt in thy seventh heaven,
that thou answerest not a word to my salutations?
Zounds, man, I will not ask thee a second
time.”
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“What is your will?” said Bernal Diaz, “what
will you have of me, señores?” he repeated, surveying
each member of the group, one after the
other. “I did think that this being a day of license
and rejoicing to so many of us, I might have an opportunity,
not often in my power, of putting down
some things in my journal which it will be well to
do, before setting out on the circuit of the lake,
wherein there may happen some passages to drive
from my memory those which are not yet recorded.
But, by my faith, you have talked loud and much,
and so disturbed my mind, that I have entirely lost
some things I intended to say. I would to heaven
you would find some other place to your liking,
and leave me alone for a few hours.”
“Why, thou infidel!” said Guzman, “if thou
likest not our company, why dost thou not leave
it? Dost thou forget thou hast the power of locomotion?
Wilt thou wait for us to depart before
thou bethinkest thee of thine own legs? By'r lady!
thou art not yet in thy senses!”
“By my faith, so I can!” said the historian, abruptly,
as if the idea had just entered his mind:
“I will go down to the lake shore, where the sound
of the waves will drown your voices. There is
something encouraging to contemplation in the
dashing of water; but as for men's voices, I could
never think well, when they were within hearing.
I beg your pardon, all, señores: I will go down.”
“What! when here are four fools, who are in
the humour of listening to thee for some seven
minutes, or so? ay, man, to thy crazy chronicles!
When wilt thou expect such another audience?
Lo you, the señor Camarga has desired to be
made acquainted with your learned lucubrations.
Come, stir; open thy lips, exalt thyself, while thou
art alive; for after death, there is no saying how
short a time thou wilt sleep in cobwebs.”
“You jeer me, señor Guzman; you laugh at me,
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gentlemen,” said the soldier, gravely; “and thereby
you do yourselves, as well as me, much wrong.
Is it so great a thing for a soldier to write a history?
The valiant Julius Cæsar of Rome recorded,
with his own hand, his great actions in France,
Britain, and our own Castile, as I know full well;
for when I was a boy at school, I saw the very
book; and sorry I am that the poverty of my parents
denied me such instruction, as might have
enabled me to read it. Then, there was Josephus,
the Jewish Captain, who wrote a history of the fall
of Jerusalem, as I have heard from a learned priest.
Besides, there were many Greek soldiers, who did
the same thing, as I have been told; but I never
knew much concerning them.”
“And hast thou the vanity to talk of Julius Cæ
sar?” cried Guzman, laughing.
“Why not?” said the soldier, stoutly; “I have
fought almost as many battles, and I warrant me,
my heart is as strong; and were it my fate to be a
general and commander, instead of a poor soldier
of fortune in the ranks, I could myself, as well as
another, lead you through these mischievous Mexicans;
who, I will be sworn, are much more valiant
heathens than ever Cæsar found among the French.
As far as he was a soldier, then, I boast to be as
good a man as he; ay, by mine honour, and better
too! for I am a Christian man, whereas he was a
poor benighted infidel. As for my history, I will
not make bold to compare it in excellence with his;
for it has been told me, that Cæsar was a scholar,
and possessed of the graces and elegancies of style;
whereas, I have myself none of these graces, being
ignorant of both Latin and Greek, and knowing
nothing of any tongues, except the Castilian, and
some smattering of this Indian jargon, which I have
picked up with much pains, and, as I may say, at
the expense of more beating than one gets from the
schoolmaster. Nevertheless, I flatter myself, that
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what I write will be good, because it will be true;
for this which I am writing, is not a history of distant
nations or of past events, nor is it composed of
vain reveries and conjectures, such as fill the
pages of one who writes of former ages. I relate
those things of which I am an eye-witness, and not
idle reports and hearsay. Truth is sacred and
very valuable. In future days, when men come to
make histories of our acts in this land, their histories
will be good, because they will draw them from
me, and not from those vain historiographers who
stay at home, and write down all the lies that people
at a distance may say of us. This is a good
thing, and will make my book, when finished, a
treasury to men; but what is better, and what
should make it noticeable to yourselves, it will not,
like other histories, say, `The great hero Cortes did
this,' and `the mighty commander did that,' giving
all the glory to one man alone; but it will record
our achievements in such a way as to show who
performed them, relating that `this thing was done
by the Senor Don Francisco de Guzman, and this
by the valiant soldier Najara, and this by myself,
Bernal Diaz del Castillo,' and so on, each of us according
to our acts.”[3]
“What the worthy Del Castillo says, is just,”
said Camarga; “and whether his history be elegant
or unpolished, he should be encouraged to
continue it. For my own part, I shall be glad
when I have performed anything worthy to be
preserved, to know, we have with us a man who
will see that the credit of the act is not bestowed
upon another. And, in this frame of mind, I will
stand much indebted to the good señor, if he will
permit me at once, to be made acquainted with the
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true relation of certain events, with which I am not
yet familiar.”
“What will you have?” said Bernal Diaz, much
gratified by this proof of approbation. “You shal
hear the truth, and no vain fabrication; for I cal
heaven to witness, and I say Amen to it, that I have
related nothing which, being an eye-witness, I do
not know to be true; or which, having the testimony
of many others, actors and lookers-on, to the
same, I have not good reason to believe, is true.
What, then, will you have, señor Camarga? Is
there any particular battle you choose to be informed
of? Perhaps, I had better begin with the first
chapter, which I have here, written out in full, and
which—”
“Fire!” cried Guzman, starting up, “will you
drive us away? Zounds! do you think we will
swallow all?”
“Read that chapter,” said Najara, “in which
you celebrate the exploits of the señor Guzman.”
“I have not,” said Diaz, with much simplicity,
“I have not yet had occasion to come to Don
Francisco.”
“Hear!” cried Villafana, clapping his hands with
admiration, in which the cavalier, after looking a
little indignant, thought fit to join.
“Unless indeed,” continued the historian, “I
should have resolved to relate the quarrel betwixt
his favour, and the young cornet Lerma, (whom
may heaven take to its rest; for there were some
good things in the young man.) But as to this
feud, I thought it better for the honour of both,
as well as of another, whom I do not desire to
mention with dispraise, that the matter should be
forgotten.”
“Put it down, if thou wilt,” said Guzman, with
a stern aspect. “What I have done, I have done;
and I shame not to have it spoken. If I did not
kill the youth, never believe me if it was not out of
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pity for his years; and out of regard to Cortes,
with whom he was a favourite.”
At these words, which were delivered with the
greatest gravity, the historian raised his eyes to
Don Francisco, and regarded him, for a moment,
with surprise. Then shaking his head, and muttering
the word `favourite,' with a voice of incredulity,
and even wonder, he held his peace, with
the air of one who locks up in his breast a mystery,
which he has been on the point of imprudently
revealing.
“A favourite—I repeat the word,” exclaimed
Don Francisco, with angry emphasis; “a favourite,
at least, until his folly and baseness were made
apparent to Cortes, and so brought him to disgrace.”
“Strong words, Don Francisco!” said Villafana,
with a bold tone of rebuke; “and somewhat too
strong to be spoken of a dead enemy. And besides,
without referring to your share in the matter,
there are those in this army, who have other
thoughts in relation to the lad. It has been whispered,—
and the honour of Cortes has suffered
thereby,—it has been whispered —”
“By Villafana,” exclaimed the hunchback, abruptly
and sharply; “by thyself, certainly, Sir Alguazil,
if there be anything in it against the credit
of the general.”
“Pshaw! wilt thou buffet me again?” cried Villafana,
springing up and stamping on the earth,
though not in anger. “Dost thou know now what
thou art like?”
“Like a thorn in the foot, which, the more you
stamp, the more it will hurt.”
“Rather like a stupid ball tied to my leg,” said
the Alguazil, “which, without any merit of its own,
serves but the dead-weight purpose of giving me a
jerk, turn whichsoever way I will.”
“Right!” cried Najara, with a sneer; “you have
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clapped the ball to the right leg. We do not so
shot honest men.”
“Gentlemen, with your leave,” said Camarga,
willing to divert the storm, which it seemed Najara's
delight to provoke in the breast of the Alguazil,
“with your leave, señores, I must not be robbed
of my curiosity. It was my purpose to ask the
señor del Castillo to read me such portions of his
journal as treated, first, of occurrences that happened
after the Noche Triste, and battle of Otumba,
and then of the history and fate of this very young
man, whose name is so efficacious in laying you
by the ears. But as I perceive the latter subject is
hateful to you all, —.” Here he turned his eyes on
Guzman.
“You are deceived,” said Don Francisco, drily.
“I bear the young man no malice: the wolf and
the dog may roll over carcasses—I have no anger
for bones. He slandered me: being no longer
alive, I forgive him. Ask Bernal what you will,
and let him answer what he will: I swear by my
troth, I care not.”
“What needs that we should look into noisome
caves, when we have green, wholesome lawns before
us?” said Bernal Diaz, hesitating; for, at that
moment, the eyes of all except Guzman, were
fastened eagerly on his own. “I could speak of
the quarrel, to be sure, between his favour Don
Francisco and the young colour-bearer; for though,
as I said, and for the reasons stated, I have not put
it down in my history, yet do I remember it very
well. But, should I get thus far, I should even
persist with the whole story; for, I know not how
it is, I never begin a relation, and get well advanced
in the same, but I am loath to leave it, till I have
recounted all.”
“Ay, I'll be sworn, thou art,” said Villafana:
“thy stories are much like to a crane's neck; 'tis
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but a head and bill at first, and an ell or two of
nothing stretched out after.”
“Nor am I able,” said the worthy Bernal, without
stopping to digest the simile, “to read a full account
of those actions the señor Camarga speaks
of, which took place subsequently to our flight from
Mexico and our great victory on the plains of
Otumba, for the good reason that I have not yet
composed them; the failure of which is, in a great
measure, the consequence of your loud talking just
now, whilst I was addressing my mind to the same.
But, if you will have a verbal relation, señor Camarga,
I will do my best to pleasure you, and that
right briefly, and in true words; for I defy any man
to detect falsehood or exaggeration in what I
write.”
“Ay, by'r lady!” cried Guzman, who had recovered
his good-humour, and now laughed heartily,—
“in what you write, honest Bernal; but in what
you say, you are not so infallible.”
“You would not let me finish what I was about
to say,” murmured the historian.
“No, faith; you would make a day's work of it;
whereas I, who am no wire-drawer of conceits, can
despatch the whole thing in a minute. Do you not
see? the rear of the procession is in sight: in half
an hour we shall be summoned into camp. Be
content then, scribbler; I quote thy words, which
should be honour enough: `I defy any man to discover
falsehood or exaggeration in what I say.'
Know then, señor Camarga—after our victory at
Otumba, nine months since, we retreated to Tlascala,
four hundred and fifty in number, at which
city we rested five months, curing our wounds,
recruiting our forces, and preparing to resume the
war. During this time, the only remarkable incidents
were,—first—the meeting of those goodly
knaves who had come with Narvaez, sworn faith
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to Cortes, looked at Mexico, and now, being satisfied
with blows and honour, demanded to be sent
back to Cuba, to the great injury and almost destruction
of all our hopes. Among the foremost of
these turbulent fellows, was our friend here, Villafana;
who, although he came not with Narvaez,
but was sent soon after us by Velasquez, was ever
found consorting with the disaffected, until his good
saint, in some dream of the gallows, brought better
thoughts into his mind, and converted him from an
open enemy into a doubtful friend. Peace, Villafana!
I am now playing the historian, and must
therefore tell what I believe to be the truth.”
At these words, Villafana, who had opened his
mouth to speak, checked the impulse, nodded,
laughed, and composed himself to silence.
“The defection of these men,” resumed the cavalier,
“and the reduction of our numbers that followed,
(for we were e'en forced to discharge the
more importunate of them,) were requited to us by
happy reinforcements of men, horses, and arms;
some of them sent by the foolish Velasquez—”
“Señor Guzman,” said Bernal Diaz, “the Governor
Velasquez is my relation. My father was an
hidalgo, and his wife, my mother—”
“Oh, I forgot!” said Guzman, nodding to the historian:—
“Some sent by the sagacious Velasquez
to his captain, Narvaez, who was in chains at Villa
Rica; some by De Garay, Adelantado of Jamaica,
to rob us of our northern province, Panuco,—and
it is supposed that thou, señor Camarga, with thy
crew of sick men, though thou comest so late, and
apparently of thine own good will, wert equipt by
the same inconsiderate commander; and some by
the merchants of the Canaries and of Seville, to be
exchanged for our superfluous spoils, which were
not then gathered;—no, by'r lady, nor yet, either.
In fine, we became strong enough, by these means,
to recruit our forces among the natives of the land;
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which we did, by attacking divers provinces in the
neighbourhood of Tlascala, and compelling their
warriors to join our standard, along with the Tlascalans,
who were willing enough,—all save their
generalissimo, Xicotencal. Thus, then, with no
mean force of Spaniards, and with several armies
of Indian confederates, we came, 'tis now more
than three months since, to yonder city, Tezcuco,
and raised to the throne, (in place of his brother,
who fled to Mexico,) a king of our own choosing;
of whom I have the honour to be chief counsellor
and minister, that is to say, guardian, regent,
sponsor, or master, as you may think fit to esteem
me. Here, it has been our good fortune to receive
other and stronger reinforcements, and, as Villafana
said, from the king's own royal bounty, with
commissions and orders, priests and crown-officers,
and so on; which circumstances have caused our
army to be reorganized, the whole reduced to a
stricter discipline, and civil officers to be appointed,
for the better enforcing of martial law. Here, too,
we have been preparing for the siege and blockade
of yonder accursed metropolis, by bringing ships,
(they are on the shoulders of these crawling pagans,)
to give us the command of the lake; and by
attacking and destroying the neighbouring towns,
so as to secure possession of the shores. In the
meanwhile, the young cub of an Emperor, Guatimozin,
who has succeeded Cuitlahuatzin, the successor
of Montezuma, has been equally busy in
concentrating the warriors of all his faithful provinces
in the island, and providing vast stores of
corn and meat, for their subsistence,—as resolute
to resist as we are to assail. The materials for
our vessels being arrived, it is now known, that
the time of constructing and lanching them, will
be devoted to an expedition, led by Cortes himself;
in which we will make the circuit of the whole
lake, destroying the rebellious cities on the main,
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and driving to the island all who may think fit to resist.
When they are thus caged, we shall have them
like pigeons in a net; and good plucking there will
be in store for all.—This is my history, and methinks
it should satisfy you.”
“It wants nothing to be complete save the episode
of the Cornet Lerma,” said Villafana, with a
malicious grin; “and, in requital for the good turn
you have done me, when speaking of the mutiny
Tlascala, I will relate it,—ay, by St. James, I will!
frown and storm as you may. The señor Camarga
has avowed his curiosity in the matter. Our
dull Bernal, who is so frequent at boasting he tells
naught but truth, has confessed that he dares not
tell all the truth; which, I think, will be somewhat
of a qualification to the belief of his future admirers.
Najara, here, will say naught of any one but myself,
and that with a crusty and bitter obstinacy,—
wherein he seems to me to resemble a silly ox, who
rubs his stupid head against a tree, much less to
the prejudice of the bark than his skin. And as for
thyself, señor Don Francisco, thou hast but thine
own fashion of telling the story. But I told thee
before, there are those in the army who have another
way of thinking; and I am one—I will not
boggle at a truth, like Diaz, because it is somewhat
discreditable to Cortes, or to a chief officer.”
“Speak then,” said Guzman, gravely; “I have
said already I care not. I know full well how your
knavish companions belie me. I say again, I care
not. What you aver as your own belief, I will
make free to hold in consideration: for the reported
imputations of others, I release you from responsibility.”
“Oh, I speak not on my own knowledge, nor of
my own personal belief,” said Villafana, “and therefore,
(but more especially in consequence of the decree,
señor, the decree!—we will not forget the
decree,) I shall fear neither dagger nor black looks.
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You called Lerma a `favourite' of the general: pho!
even Bernal smiled at that!”
“What I have said in that matter,” replied Guzman,
with composure, “I will condescend to support
with argument. The young man was received
into the household of Cortes, while Cortes was yet
a planter of Santiago: he picked him up, heaven
knows where, how, or why, a poor, vagabond boy.
It is notorious to all, that, in those days, Don Hernan
employed him less as a servant than as a son,
or younger brother, and as such, bestowed upon
him affection and confidence, as well as the truest
protection. Thou knowest, and if thou art not an
infidel altogether, thou wilt allow, that the sword-cut
on the general's left hand was obtained in a
duel which he fought with a man, ('twas the señor
Bocasucia,) who had thrown some sarcasm on the
youth's birth, and then ran him through the body,
when he sought for satisfaction.”
“I allow all this,” said Villafana; “I confess the
youth was an ass, to match his boy's blade against
the weapon of the best swordsman in the island;
and I agree that it was both noble and truly affectionate
in Cortes, to take up the quarrel, and so
baste the bones of Bocasucia, that he will remember
the correction to his dying day. I allow all
this; and I add to it the greater proof of Don Hernan's
love for the youth, that when Velasquez
granted him his commission to subdue these lands,
(I would the sea had swallowed them, some good
ten years since!) the captain did forthwith entrust
to the boy the honourable and distinguished duty
of recruiting soldiers for him, in Española, in which
island he was born.”
“Ay,” quoth Guzman, dryly, “and one may find
cause for the general's anger, in the diligence with
which the urchin prosecuted his task, and the success
that crowned it.”
“By my faith,” said Bernal Diaz, unable any
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longer to restrain his desire to take part in a discussion
of such historical moment, “the young man
sped well; and that he came to us empty-handed
was no cause of Don Hernan's displeasure, as I
have heard Don Hernan say. It was, in the first
place, our haste to embark, when we discovered
that the governor was about to revoke our captain's
commission, that caused Lerma to be left behind
us; and, secondly, it was the governor's own
act, that Lerma was not permitted to follow us, with
the forces he had raised and brought as far as Santiago.
It is well known, that these men were arrested
on their course, and disbanded by Velasquez,—
for some of them came afterwards with
Narvaez, and have so reported. The youth was
thrown into prison, too, where he fell sick,—for he
had never entirely recovered from the effects of his
wound,—and it required all the exertions of Doña
Catalina, our leader's wife, backed by those of her
friends, to procure his release. His fidelity was
afterwards shown in his escape from Cuba, which
was truly wonderful, both in boldness of conception
and success of accomplishment.”
“His fidelity truly, and his folly, too,” said Villafana;
“for, I think, no one but a confirmed madman
could have projected and undertaken a voyage
across the gulf, in an open fusta,[4] (by'r lady! I
have heard 'twas nothing better than a piragua,)
with a few beggarly Indian fishermen for his crew.
But this he did, mad or not; and if Cortes were
angry, he took but an ill way to punish, since he
gave him a horse and standard, and kept him, for
a long time, near to his own person. His favourite
for a time, I grant you he may have been, having
heard it so related; but when I myself came to the
land, there were others much better beloved.”
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“If I am not mistaken,” said Don Francisco, “he
was in favour at that time; and I have heard it
affirmed it was some news of thy bringing, or some
good counsel of thy speaking, which first opened
the eyes of Cortes.”
“I, indeed!—my news, and my counsel!” cried
Villafana, with a grin. “I was more like, at that
period, to get to the bastinado than the ears of Don
Hernan. I, indeed!—I loved not the young man,
I confess; and who did? He had even the fate of
a fallen minion; all spoke of him with dispraise,—
all hated him, or seemed to hate him, save only the
Tlascalan chief, Xicotencal, who loved him out of
opposition; and I remember a saying of this very
crabbed Corcobado, here, on the subject, namely,
that a hedgehog was the best fellow for a viper.”
“Ay, by my faith,” said Najara; “yet I meant
not Xicotencal for the animal, but a worthy Christian
cavalier; who was, at that time, rolling the
snake out of his dwelling.” As Najara spoke, he
fixed his eyes on Guzman.
“I understand thee, toad,” said the latter, indifferently.
“It was natural, the young man should
be somewhat jealous. But this leads us from the
story. If it be needful to find a reason for Don
Hernan's change, I can myself give a thousand. In
the first place, mere human fickleness might be
enough, for no man is master of his affections.
It might be enough too, to know, that the youth was
no longer the gay and good-humoured lad he had
been described, but a sour, gloomy, and peevish
fool, exceedingly disagreeable and quarrelsome;
and, perhaps, it might be more than enough, to remind
you, that, as was currently believed, this
change of temper was the consequence of certain
villanous acts, committed after our departure, and
which were thought to furnish a better and more
probable reason for the voyage in the fusta than
any particular zeal he had in the cause of Cortes.
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If this be not enough,” continued the cavalier, looking
round him with the air of one who feels that
his arguments are conclusive, “then I have but
to mention what you seem to have forgotten,—
to wit, that this petulant and meddlesome
boy did presume to make opposition to, and very
arrogantly censure, certain actions of the general;
and, in particular, the seizure and imprisonment
of king Montezuma, and the burning alive of the
Cholulan prisoners, as well as the seventeen warriors,
who had fought the battle with Escalante, at
Vera Cruz.”—In the last of these instances, Don
Francisco made reference to the barbarous and most
unjust punishment of Quauhpopoco,—the military
governor of a Mexican province near to Vera Cruz,—
and of his chief officers, who had presumed to
resist with arms, and with fatal success, the Spanish
commandant of the coast, in an unjustifiable
attack.
“All this is true,” said Villafana, “and it is all
superfluous. What I desired to establish was, that
Lerma was no favourite, when sent on the expedition,
as would have been inferred from your words.
I come now, señor Camarga, to speak of that occurrence
in relation to this boy, Juan Lerma, (I
call him a boy, for, at that time, he was not thought
to exceed nineteen years of age,) which, as Bernal
Diaz says, touches the honour of Don Hernan, and
which, others think, bears as heavily upon that of
Don Francisco. The señores must answer for
themselves: I only give what is one version of the
story.”
“And, I warrant thee, it is the worst,” said Najara.
“Thou hast very much the appetite of a
gallinaza, who chooses her meat according to the
roughness of the savour.”
“Among the daughters of the captive Montezuma,”
said Villafana, nodding to the hunchback, in
testimony of approbation, “was one, the youngest
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[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
of all, and, in truth, the prettiest, as I have heard,
for I never beheld her, who was called Cillahula,—”
“Zelahualla,” said Bernal Diaz. “It is a word
that signifies—”
“It signifies nothing, so long as you give it not
the proper accent,” said Guzman, with infinite
composure. “Her true name was Citlaltihuatl;
or, at least, it was by that the Mexicans designated
her; for they of the royal family have, ordinarily,
a popular title, in addition to that used at court.
The name may be interpreted the Maiden of the
Star, or the Celestial Lady; for so much is expressed
by the two words of which it is compounded.”
“I maintain,” said Bernal Diaz, stoutly, “that
the word Zelahualla is more agreeable of pronunciation,
as well as much more universal in the
army.”
“I grant you that,” said Guzman. “Nor is the
corruption so great as that of many names you
have recorded in your journal: but I leave these
things to be examined by your admirers hereafter.
We will call the princess, then, Zelahualla; that
being the better and more common title.—And now,
Villafana, man, get thee on, in God's name; and
start not, señor Camarga, at the damnable inventions
of slander, which will now be told you.”
“Pho!” said the Alguazil, “I will not abuse thee
half so much as the General. Know, señor Camarga,
that there arose, between the young fool Lerma
and the excellent cavalier Don Francisco de Guzman,
a quarrel, very hot and deadly, concerning
this same silly daughter of Montezuma; with whom
Don Francisco chose to be somewhat rougher and
more tyrannical, in displaying his affection, than
was proper towards a king's daughter and a captive.”
“Dost thou speak this upon thine own personal
averment?” demanded Don Francisco, with a
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[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
countenance unchanged, but with a voice preternaturally
subdued.
“No, faith,” said Villafana, hastily, and with an
air that looked like alarm; “I repeat the innuen-does
of others, which may be slanders or not,—I
know not. But it is certain, the young man so
charged thee to Cortes; affirming that, but for his
interference, the villany meditated—But, pho! thou
growest angry! So much, certainly, he brought
against thee?”
“He did,” replied Guzman, smiling as if in derision;
“and I know not how any could have been
induced to believe him, except that man,—each
man,—being naturally a rogue himself, doth rather
delight to entertain those aspersions which bring
down his neighbour to his own level, than the commendations
which acquaint him with a superior.
He did!—He was a fool! I can explain this thing
to your satisfaction.”
“Basta! it does not need,” replied Villafana.
“The rear-guard is passing,—there is a stir on the
temple-top, and presently we shall hear the trumpet,
which, like a curfew-bell, will command us to
put out the fires of our fancy and the lights of our
wit, on pain of having them, somewhat of a sudden,
whipped out with switches. I must tell mine own
story; the señor Camarga looks a little impatient.
The end of this quarrel,” continued the Alguazil,
“was a duel; in which neither of the rivals in love
and the general's favour, came to much hurt; since
they were speedily seized upon and introduced to
the Calabozo, for fighting against the express orders
of the general. Then, being released, they were
separated,—our excellent friend Don Francisco
being sent on some duty to Tlascala, and the boy
Juan to—heaven.”
“Saints!” exclaimed Camarga; “he was not
executed?”
“Not on the block or the gallows, to be sure,”
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[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
said Villafana; “but in a manner quite as effectual.
He was sent on some fool's errand of discovery,
or exploration, to the South Sea, which, it was told
us, washed the distant borders of this mighty empire;—
his companions, two unlucky dogs of La
Mancha, and one Leonese of Medina-del-Campo,—”
“Ay,” said Bernal Diaz, with a groan,—“Gaspar
Olea; he was my beloved friend and townsman,
and—” But Villafana was in no humour to be
interrupted:
“All three, like himself, out of favour,” he continued.
“Besides these, the young man had with
him a band of knavish infidels, from the western
province Matlatzinco; and his guide and counsellor
was an old chief of the Ottomies—a half-savage,
(they called him Ocelotl or Ocelotzin, that is, the
Tiger,) who had been domesticated among Montezuma's
other wild beasts. Now, señor, you may
make your own conclusions, or you may take those
of men who are true friends of Cortes, and yet will
speak their mind. It was said, at the time, that the
young man was sent to his death; for the western
tribes are fierce and barbarous; it was an easy
way to get rid of him—and so it has been proved.
This happened fourteen months ago: neither the
young man, nor any of his companions, were ever
heard of more. The thing was understood, and it
was called a cruel and unchristian act.”
“Thou doest a foul wrong to Cortes, to say so,”
exclaimed Don Francisco, “imputing to him such
sinister and perfidious motives. Such expeditions
were at that time common; for we were then at
peace, and each explorer was furnished by Montezuma
with some royal officer by way of safe-conduct.
Did not Don Hernan send his cousin, the
young Pizarro, to explore the gold-lands of Guaztepec,
at that very time? Were not others sent to
search for mines, in the southern and northern provinces?
I affirm, that this expedition of Lerma, fatal
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[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
though it has proved, was not thought more, or
much more dangerous than Pizarro's:—thou knowest,
Pizarro lost three of his men.—Moreover, thou
doest the general an equal wrong, in the matter of
the three Spaniards, that went with Lerma. Olea,
at least,—Gaspar Olea, the Barba-Roxa—was notoriously
a favourite and trusted soldier, and was
sent with the youth, as being the fittest man who
could be spared, to aid his inexperience.”
“The history is finished,” said Villafana, rising;
“the trumpet flourishes; and, like hounds at the
horn of the hunter, we must e'en get us to the
general, and add our howls to the yells of these
curs of Tlascala. The history is finished; and I
have only to add, by way of annotation, that the
hatred you bore the youth, (I have heard some say,
he had the better in the duel!) will supply you good
reasons for defending his punishment.”
“I say to you again,” cried Guzman, “I have
forgiven the youth, and I hate him not.”
“Oh! the brown horse, Bobadil, that was sent
to him from Santo Domingo, a month since, and
given to your own excellent favour, as to his proper
heir, is a good peace-maker!”
“Thou art a fool,” said Don Francisco; “I lament
his death as much as another.”—
“Have masses then said for his soul, for, by
heaven and St. John, his spirit is among us!”
These words, pronounced by the hunchback,
Najara, suddenly, and with a voice of extreme
alarm, caused the cavalier, who, with Villafana and
Camarga, had already begun to walk towards the
city, to turn round; when he instantly beheld, and
with similar agitation, the apparition which had
drawn forth the exclamation of the deformed.
eaf015v1.n2[2] Vasco Nuñez de Balboa.
eaf015v1.n3[3] The historical reader will find that the worthy Bernal
has incorporated many of these judicious sentiments in the
work he was then composing, and some almost word for
word.
eaf015v1.n4[4] Fusta—a sort of galley, very small and open, with
lateen sails.
-- 055 --
Bird, Robert Montgomery, 1806-1854 [1835], The infidel, or, The fall of Mexico, volume 1 (Carey, Lea, & Blanchard, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf015v1].
