VI
“Decisive word” from Washington—A passing scare—Conscription’s terrors—Thanksgiving—The rebel advance—Sir Christopher Cradock—Huerta’s hospitable waste-paper basket.
An exciting day. The long-looked-for “decisive” word came from Washington this morning, to be communicated this evening to every embassy and legation in Europe. By to-night all the foreign representatives here and the press will be informed. It states that we will not recede one step from our position; that Huerta and all his supporters must go; that we will isolate him, starve him out financially, morally, and physically; that revolution and assassination may come to an end in Latin America; that we will protect our interests and the interests of all foreigners, and that peace must be made in Mexico, or that we will make it ourselves! It is theargumentum ad hominemcertainly, and we can only wait to see what acrobatic feats to avoid the blow will be performed by Huerta. The language is unmistakable and could only be used because the military force necessary is behind it and ready.
Well, the scare of yesterday has passed.... Now the Foreign Office here can do more masterly ignoring!
Last month, on the 25th, Huerta signed a decree increasing the army to 150,000; the work of conscriptionhas been going on at a great rate. After the bull-fight on Sunday seven hundred unfortunates were seized, doubtless never to see their families again. Once far from Mexico City, they are not bright about getting back. At a big fire a few days ago nearly a thousand were taken, many women among them, who are put to work in the powder-mills. A friend told me this morning that the father, mother, two brothers, and the sister of one of her servants were taken last week. They scarcely dare, any of them, to go out after dark. Posting a letter may mean, literally, going to the cannon’s mouth.
In “junking” the other day I found an interesting old print of the taking of Chapultepec by the Americans, September, 1847, which I have fitted into a nice old frame. I am keeping it up-stairs. I went to the Red Cross this morning for the first time since my return. They all greeted me most cordially and said N. was “muy amigo de Mexico” (“very much a friend of Mexico”). I shall take Wednesdays and Saturdays for my service.
To-morrow is Thanksgiving. I am receiving for the Colony and such of thechers collèguesas care to help wave the Stars and Stripes. It will be a sort of census of how many Americans are really left in town. Their number is fast dwindling.
Yesterday was a busy day. I went to mass at San Lorenzo, where the nice American rector gave a very good Thanksgiving sermon. I rarely go there, except on some such occasion. It is far from the Embassy, and, though once in the best residential part of the city, it is now invaded by a squalid Indian andmestizoclass. With the exception of San Lorenzo, which is very clean (the American church, as it is called), the churches inthat quarter strike a most forlorn note, with their silent belfries and dirt and general shabbiness.
About two hundred came to the reception yesterday, and I only wishallhad come. I really enjoyed shaking those friendly hands. The times are uncertain, and ruin for many is probable at any moment. The rooms were filled with flowers; I had a nice buffet and a good,headypunch. Elim was dressed in immaculate white. He made one shining appearance, and then reappeared ten minutes later, his radiance dimmed, having been sprinkled accidentally by the nice Indian gardener. He was reclad, but some over-enthusiastic compatriot gave him a glass of punch, and the rest of the afternoon I seemed to see little legs and feet in the air. Thechefs de missionall came also, but of course it was an American day, the beloved flag flying high and catching the brilliant light in a most inspiring way.
Clarence Hay (John Hay’s son) is down here with Professor Tozzer and his bride, for archæological work. They first appeared on the horizon yesterday, the atmosphere of a less harassed world still hanging around them, and were most welcome. Tozzer is professor of archæology at Harvard and has mapped out work here until May, in connection with the Museo Nacional. The Toltec and Aztec treasures still hidden in the earth would repay any labor.
We fly up and down thePaseoconstantly. I think there is the fastest and most reckless motor-driving in the world in Mexico, but some divinity is sleepless and there are few accidents. Jesus, our chauffeur, is a gem of good looks, neatness, willingness, competency, and skill. When he is told to come back for us at half past eleven, when we are dining out, and he has been on the go all day, he not only says “good,” but “verygood,” with a flash of white teeth and dark eyes. The rest of theservants are so-so. If I thought we were going to stay I should change the first man. He ought to be the last, as he is not only a fool, but an unwilling one. As it is he who is supposed to stand between me and the world, I am often maddened by him. He is Indian, with a dash of Japanese, not a successful mixture in his case, though he issupposedto be honest.
I haven’t taken a census of the inhabitants of the house. Several of the women, I know, have children living with them, but a little unknown face appeared at a door yesterday, and was snatched back by some unidentified hand. They don’t produce them all at once, but gradually.
We had a white bull-terrier given us seven weeks old, Juanita by name. It has threatened to rain dogs here since it became known that we wantedone, but I have avoided all but two since returning. Elim looks sweet playing with her, two little milk-white young things. But Juanita’s stock is low. She tries her teeth on anything that is light-colored and soft, especially hats, and faces now stiffen at her approach.
A bit of a domestic upheaval this morning. The Indian butler with the dash of Japanese has been dismissed, or, rather, has dismissed himself. His was a case of total inefficiency and bad temper. I gave him a recommendation, for, poor fellow, he had seen his best days under the Stars and Stripes. The press-gang will get him, and he will doubtless soon be on the way to the north. I am to have a new butler on Monday.
I have just been going over the map with Captain Burnside, and we have been tracing the slow and sure advance of the rebels. They are down as far as San Luis Potosí, not more than fourteen hours from here.They manage to isolate the Federal detachments, one after the other, cutting the railroad lines in front and in the rear. There is a good deal of that northern march where one can go a hundred kilometers without finding a drop of water.
I was reading Mme. Calderon de la Barca’s letters—1840-1842—last night. She was the Scotch wife of the first Spanish minister after the Mexican independence, and her descriptions of political conditions would fit to-day exactly, even the names of some of the generals repeating themselves. She speaks of “the plan of the Federals,” “the political regeneration of the Republic,” “evils now arrived at such a height that the endeavors of a few men no longer suffice,” “a long discussion in Congress to-day on the granting of extraordinary powers to the President,” “a possible sacking of the city.”... Our history here. She goes on to say that they (the brigands) are the growth of civil war. Sometimes in the guise of insurgents taking an active part in the independence, they have independently laid waste the country. As expellers of the Spaniards these armed bands infested the roads between Vera Cruz and the capital, ruined all commerce, and without any particular inquiry into political opinions robbed and murdered in all directions. And she tells thebon motof a certain Mexican: “Some years ago we gave forth cries—gritos(referring to the Grito de Dolores of Hidalgo). That was in the infancy of our independence. Now we begin to pronounce,pronunciamos(apronunciamientois a revolution). Heaven only knows when we shall be old enough to speak plainly, so that people may know what we mean.”
I go in the afternoon to a charity sale at Mrs. Adams’s, for the “Lady Cowdray Nursery Home.” Mr. A. is theCowdray representative of the huge oil interests in Mexico. It sometimes looks as if this whole situation could be summed up in the one word, “oil.” Mexico is so endlessly, so tragically rich in the things that the world covets. Certainly oil is the crux of the Anglo-American situation. All the modern battle-ships will be burning oil instead of coal—clean, smokeless, no more of the horrors of stoking—and for England to have practically an unlimited oil-fount in Mexico means much to her.
We had a pleasant dinner last night here—Clarence Hay, Mr. and Mrs. Tozzer, and Mr. Seeger; the dinner itself only so-so. Mr. Seeger’s suggestion that theguajolotehad been plied with grape-juice rather than with something more inspiring was borne out by the bird’s toughness, and there were strange, unexplained intervals. However I impressed upon C. H. that I was giving him this splendidfiestabecause his father had signed N.’s first commission (to Copenhagen), and the time passed merrily. There are other things you can do at dinner besides eating, if you are put to it.
I inclose a long clipping, most interesting, from Mr. Foster’sDiplomatic Memoirs. He was minister here for some years—1873-1880, I think. His relations, too, of conditions at that time seem a replica of these in our time: “The railroad trains always contained one or more cars loaded with armed soldiers. The Hacendados did not venture off their estates without an armed guard and the richest of them lived in the cities for safety. Everybody armed to the teeth when traveling and the bullion-trains coming from the mines were always heavily protected by guards.” Mr. Foster sets forth the actions of the United States in delaying recognition of Diaz when he assumed the Presidency, and tells of the various moments in which we were on the brink of war with Mexico.In 1875, Congress conferred on Diaz “extraordinary faculties,” the effect of which was to suspend the legislative power and make him a dictator.
N. paid over the Pius Fund, yesterday—the indemnity of 45,000 pesos that Mexico is forced to pay yearly to the Catholic Church in California for confiscation of its property about one hundred years ago. It was the first decision of the Hague Tribunal. Archbishop Riordan, when consulted about the manner of paying it, telegraphed to Mr. Bryan that he left it in N.’s hands to be disposed of as if it were his own. N.’s policy has been to get the various foreign powers to appeal to us for protection of their citizens, thus tacitly acknowledging our “Monroe” right to handle questions that came up. So far France, Germany, Spain, and Japan have done so.
Yesterday, at four o’clock, Sir Lionel and Sir Christopher Cradock were announced. When I went down-stairs, a few minutes later, I found my drawing-room a blaze of afternoon sun, setting off to perfection twice six feet or more of Royal British navy—Sir Christopher and his aide, Cavendish, resplendent in full uniform. They had just come from calling on Huerta in state, at the Palace. I was really dazzled for the first moment. Sir Christopher is a singularly handsome man, regular of feature, and of distinguished bearing. His aide, equally tall and slender, a younger silhouette of himself, was standing by his side. Britanniaresplendens! Sir Christopher was evidently very interested in seeing, at first hand, the situation he is to “observe” from the vantage of Vera Cruz. After a lively half-hour he was borne off by Sir L. for visits at the legations, and comparative darkness fell upon the room. As we are all dining at the German Legation, where there is a gala dinner for himand the captain of theBremenand his staff, we merely saidau revoir.
The dinner last night for twenty-four was most brilliant, and perfectly appointed, from the lavish caviar on beds of ice to the last flamingomelette en surprise. We sat at the small ends of the table, Madame Lefaivre on von Hintze’s right, and I on his left; Sir Lionel by me, and Sir Christopher by Madame Lefaivre; Lady Carden, handsomely gowned and jeweled, at the other extreme end, with the next ranking men on either side. Sir C., just opposite to me, was glistening with decorations and shining with the special, well-groomed, English look. I asked him if he hadn’t been afraid to come over the rebel-infested mountains with so much temptation on his person. He answered, as a forceful, sporting look came into his eyes, “They wouldn’t get the chance tokeepanything of mine!”[6]
It is impossible to talk politics; things are too delicate and I imagine we all have rather a shifty look in the eye at the remotest mention ofla situación. I can see, however, that Sir C. has been impressed by Huerta, and would probably have liked to tell him to “keep it up.”
I wore my filmy black and my pearls, which combination seemed to give pleasure. After dinner, and some conversation with the captain of theBremen, who, however great his merit, didn’t have the clothes nor the distinctionof Sir C., we played bridge—Sir C., Lady Carden, Hohler, and myself. Sir C. won every rubber in a nice, quiet way. He lunches with us to-morrow at Chapultepec restaurant; von Hintze and his officers, unfortunately, are already engaged for a Colony lunch.
A full day. Red Cross work from ten till twelve, then home to change—not only my dress, but the scent that hung round me—to go to Chapultepec. Sir C. and Cavendish, somewhat dimmed by being in plain clothes, drove up to the restaurant just as I was getting out of the motor, the Belgian minister, Mr. Percival, and the Cardens coming a few minutes later. We had espied Huerta’s auto in the Park, and I had the bold idea of getting the President for lunch, knowing it would render things spicy for Sir C. Heaven was watching over me, however, for instead of stopping at the restaurant for one of the famouscopitas, Huerta passed through the Park, disappearing in the direction of Popotla.
It was ideal lunching on the veranda, bathed in the warm, scented air, talking of many things, and climes, with the easy exchange of thoughts that is the pleasure of people of the world. Sir C. said that he had spent most of his time changing his clothes, since his arrival, having come with nothing between full uniform and morning coat. He had been to the Foreign Office that morning in uniform, into civilian for lunch, was to dress at three for some sort of function at the Palace, and then change to visit the castle of Chapultepec and the cadet school attached. He had accomplished all these labors when at six we met again at Madame Simon’s for bridge. His roving seaman’s eye lighted up and seemed very appreciative of the bevy of handsome young women he found there. Again, with “Cradock’s luck,” he raked theshekels in. He said the visit to Chapultepec and the cadet school was a most thorough proceeding, and that he was spared no crack or cranny of the school, of which, however, the Mexicans are justly proud.
There is a reception at the Legation for the English colony to-night, and to-morrow early he descends to the sea. Sir C. has distinguished himself in many climes and will, I imagine, get a bit restless at Vera Cruz, waiting for something to happen. He directed the British, American, Japanese, and Italian forces for the relief of Tientsin. He has yet to learn that no outside force can hurry events in Latin America. They happen from their own momentum, in their own way. I have an idea he is a full-fledged Huertista, but, oh! so nice about it all. He is ranking officer to Admiral Fletcher, which might, at any moment, make complications. How can Britannia rule the waves in the sacred territorial waters of the Monroe doctrine? But it is always the same. On all international occasions our admirals find themselves outranked, even by navies of inferior powers. The highest rank our officers on active duty can attain is rear-admiral. They bring up the rear in more senses than one, while all other forces have vice-admirals and admirals available for any little trips that seem expedient.
I am sending this off by the German boatYpiranga. We have given up going to Vera Cruz on Saturday. People say that it is impossible for us to do so without creating a panic. No one would really know that we had left a hostage in the shape of the blue-eyed boy. I felt rather in the mood to go, after the visit of Sir Christopher, who painted the harbor of Vera Cruz in most attractive colors.
Huerta is gradually getting rid of his Cabinet. GarzaAldape, Gobernación, went, as I wrote you, and now de Lama (Hacienda) is to go to Paris by theYpiranga. I don’t imagine Huerta has much to do with his Cabinet. They fill up certain conventional spaces usual in governments, and that is all—a sort of administrative furniture, along with the tables and chairs. Burnside said to-day that when Huerta really has a Cabinet meeting it consists of himself and advisers in the shape ofcopitas. He has just got full powers from “Congress” to put into effect any orders he may give in military and naval matters for the next year. He pays no attention to Washington and it is rather difficult to do anything with a person who acts as if you were non-existent. The ultimata continue to go into the waste-paper basket, and Vera Cruz is so full of war-ships that those yet to come will have to stay outside the harbor. TheRhode Island, theSuffolk, and theCondéhave the best places available for the big ships. The rest of the harbor is taken up with gunboats.