XX
Good Friday—Mexican toys with symbolic sounds—“The Tampico incident”—Sabado de Gloria and Easter—An international photograph—The last reception at Chapultepec.
As I came home from church this morning the sacred day seemed to be a day of noise. The Indians were busy in their booths along the Alameda. Thousands of small, wooden carts are bought by thousands of small boys and girls;metracas, they are called, and so constructed that, in addition to the usual noise, every revolution of the wheels makes a sound like the breaking of wood. This noise is supposed to typify the breaking of the bones of Judas. There are also appalling tin objects, like nutmeg-graters, that revolve on sticks, with the same symbolic sound. Little boys and girls outside the churches sell pious leaflets, crying in their shrill voices, “Las siete palabras de nuestro Señor Jesus Christo,” or “El pesame de nuestra Señora Madre de Dios.”
Something is brewing here, and it was with a heart somewhat perturbed by earthly happenings that I again went to the cathedral, at three o’clock. At the doors the little venders of the holy words were as insistent as ever. Thousands were filing in and out, going up with whatever burden of babe or bundle they happened to be carrying, to kiss the great cross laid on the steps of the high altar. I bethought me of last Good Friday in Rome, and of hearing Father Benson preach the “Three Hours” at San Sylvestro.
Events succeed each other in kaleidoscopic fashion in Latin America, but I have, at last, a moment in which to tell you of the especial turn to-day.
This morning N. was informed, through the Foreign Office, of something referred to as “the Tampico incident.” The Foreign Office was decidedly in the air about it. On returning home, at one o’clock, however, N. found a very definite telegram from Admiral Fletcher, and there is sure to be trouble....
N. took the penciled reading and dashed off to find Huerta. Potential war lies in any incident here. He was away all the afternoon, hunting Huerta, but only found him at six o’clock. Huerta’s written answer was in the usual clever, Latin-American manner; his verbal remarks on the subject to a foreigner were beyond editing. The newspaper men were coming in, all the afternoon, and were disappointed not to find the “source of light and heat.”
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The final touch was put on the nerves of everybody by Elim’s dragging hismetracaabout the halls. With howls of protestation he was separated from it.
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N. said he might possibly have arranged the matter except for the little Sub-Secretary, who had never met the President before, and who wanted, all during the interview, to prove he was very much of a man. Portillo y Rojas is away for the Easter holidays. At the President’s door a big, sullen Indian told N. he could not see the President, who was taking asiesta. As N. could not entirely follow the injunction about sleeping dogs, he compromised on a little tour, returning to find the President about to get into his motor. He asked N. to come with him, which N. did, sitting by his side, thesecretary facing them on thestrapontin. N. told the President he had something “very delicate” (“un asunto muy delicado”) to speak to him about. The President made one of his waving gestures, and the ball opened. Huerta said he would apologize for “the Tampico incident.” N. indicated that his government would not consider that sufficient. Huerta asked, squarely: “What do you want?” N. answered, “The salutes,” saying he might arrange the matter quietly, giving the salutes some morning at sunrise, for instance. The President began to ponder the matter; whereupon the secretary, thinking his chance had come, broke in upon the silence with the remark that it would be derogatory to the national honor to salute, and that there was no guarantee that the salutes would be returned, that Mexico’s sovereignty was in question, and the like. The President immediately stiffened up.—So can a nobody turn a nation’s destinies!
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There is talk of providing a neutral zone in Tampico during the fighting. Every time an oil-tank is damaged, not only are several hundred thousand dollars gone, but there is immense danger of the oil flowing down the river and being set fire to. You can imagine the result to the shipping in the harbor, as well as to the town.
THE SIESTA
THE SIESTA
THE SIESTA
It is now ten o’clock; the answer of Huerta has been sent off to the State Department and to Admiral Fletcher. Many newspaper men have interviewed Nelson, and he has gone up-stairs. These days of delicate negotiations—when a word too much or a word too little would make trouble—are wearying, to say the least. But so is fame made.... It seemed to me the only thing Ididn’tdo to-day was to buy an imitation devil, also representing Judas, of which thousands in clay, in cardboard, in every conceivable form, are offered on every street corner.
To-day thepapier-maché“Judases” were burned, on the street corners, to the great joy of children and adults, while cannon and torpedoes and firecrackers of all kinds made things rather noisy. I remembered again the old Roman days, and the quiet of Holy Saturday, “hidden in the tomb with Christ.”
There is going to be a lot of trouble about the Tampico incident. The “Old Man” is recalcitrant and feels that the public apology by General Zaragoza should be sufficient. What we will do can only be surmised. Recently, one of the newspapers had a cartoon of Mr. Bryan speaking to “Mexico.” Under the picture was this pleasing caption, “I may say, I am most annoyed; and if you do not immediately reform, I hesitate to say what I may not be inclined to decide, perhaps!”
A heavenly sky looks down on the Resurrection morn, and it is, indeed, the resurrection of a good many Mexicans who, these last days, have spilled their life’s blood for reasons unknown to them. The Sub-Secretary for Foreign Affairs spent the night hour from two to three with Nelson. The Mexican government does not want to salute the flag, though, of course, it will have to yield to our demand. Fighting continues at Tampico. The American war-ships are crowded with unfortunate refugees, and there is increasing animosity against the Americans. General Zaragoza has expressed official regret at the arrest, but the salute to the flag has been postponed.
Nelson has already been twice to the Foreign Office. He told the sub-secretary to tell the President the salute must be given. He has looked up precedents in the international-law books at the Embassy, to soothe theirfeelings, theirculturaandbizarría. If the sub-secretary says that Huerta still persists in refusing, N. is going to try a personal appeal. It is a salute or intervention, I suppose.
It appears that Mr. Bryan has said he can see no reason why the Mexican government should not “cheerfully salute,” and “that doubtless the church holidays have interfered with the transaction of business.” Is it the end, or not?Quién sabe?
A written reply, very clever indeed, was received at one o’clock, refusing categorically to give the desired, or rather,demanded, salute of twenty-one guns, at Tampico. The Mexicans say that the whaleboat landed at a part of the town then in the military zone, and without permission; that fighting was going on at the time; that the city was under martial law. The men had been sent in to get gasoline for the ship with the paymaster (usually it is only a petty officer who accompanies the men on such errands). The reply ends with anacuerdo especial(especial message) from Huerta to the effect that he could not comply with the United States’ demands without wounding Mexico’s national honor and dignity and infringing on her sovereignty, which he is ready to defend at all times and in all ways. Now what are we going to do? The clerks have been working like mad all day, and endless cables have gone out of the Embassy. Nelson says he will not go to Huerta, though when we passed Chapultepec restaurant, coming from the Reforma Club near by, where we had been lunching, he saw the President’s motor, and got out of our car and strolled through the restaurant, to give Huerta a chance to speak, if he was so minded, without seeking him out. However, Huerta was dining with the officers of theruralguard, and Nelson left immediately. Huertahad been at the automobile races all the morning, we, in our Anglo-Saxon preoccupation, having, of course, forgotten about them. The situation is again very tense; again war and destruction loom up—a specter to us, as well as to this strange Indian republic that we are trying to mold to our image and likeness.
Nelson has told all newspaper men that he gives no information to any one; that he is a “dry spring,” and that they must cable to their home offices for news. As, since nine-thirty, there has been the strictest censorship, they won’t get or give much. Even the Embassy cables were delayed until Nelson went to the office and made his arrangements.
The white pony and the Mexican saddle that the President has asked to present to Elim, fortunately, have not appeared. You can imagine the juicy dish of news that gift would make at home! Refusal or acceptance would be equally delicate.
No news has come. I wonder what they did in Tampico at six o’clock. A very insistent note has come from the Foreign Office, recounting, I think for the first time, Mexico’s many grievances against us—troubles caused by the raising of the embargo and the consequent supplying of arms to the rebels; claiming the Federals’ right to conduct the fight at Tampico any way they see fit; saying that they will tolerate no interference in their national affairs, etc. We, having armed the rebels, can hardly take exception to the Federals’ defending themselves. They insist that the whaleboat of theDolphinwason forbidden territory when the men were arrested, but the statement is not official. Washington is to-day either finding a way out of the affair or looking into the grim, cold eyes of intervention.
I had an Easter-egg hunt in the garden, for Elim, atwhich nine little darlings assisted. Then we had tea, with many flashes of Spanish wit. All the foreign children here prefer to speak Spanish. The mothers and other ladies left at six, after which the French militaryattaché, de Bertier, and Letellier, came in, and we talkedMexicanatill eight. De Bertier said this was the second most interesting situation he had ever watched. The first was the beginning of the French power in Morocco—that clear flame of French civilization, at first trembling and uncertain, in the deserts and mountains of North Africa, but ever increasing, carried to the Arabs, a “race pure,” by a handful of brave and dashing soldiers, also of a “race pure.” He finds the problem much more complicated in Mexico, where asaladeof races is involved.
This morning, like so many mornings here, had its own special color. Nelson had not seen Huerta since the interview on Friday night, about the saluting of the flag. We drove out to Chapultepec, where, before the restaurant steps, the usualpetit leverwas being held—generals, Cabinet Ministers, and other officials. Nelson went over to the President, while the motor, with Clarence Hay and myself in it, retreated out of the blazing sun under the shade of some convenient and beautiful ahuehuetes. From afar we saw the President get out of his motor and Nelson go up to him; then both walked up the broad stairs of the restaurant. In a few minutes Ramon Corona, now chief of staff, walked quickly over to our motor.
“I come from the President to ask you to go to thefiesta militarin the Peredacuartel,” he said. The President took Nelson in his motor, I following in ours, with Corona. Hay vanished from the somewhat complicated situation. I got to the barracks to find that wewere the only foreigners, and I the only lady on the raised dais (where generals and Cabinet Ministers were even thicker than at Chapultepec), to watch the various exercises the well-trainedgendarmecorps gave for the President. They are for the moment without horses, the lack of which is a great problem here. We watched the various steps, drills, and exercises for a couple of hours with great interest, I sitting between Corona and charming young Eduardo Iturbide, the present governor of the Federal district. It is wonderful what those Indians did, having been gathered in only during the last month. I told one or two little stories of things I had seen in Berlin and Rome. You remember how the raw recruits used to pass Alsenstrasse on the way to those big barracks, just over the Spree—great, hulking, awkward, ignorant peasants who after six weeks could stand straight, look an officer in the eye, and answer “Yes” or “No” to a question. The Italian story was one once told me by a lieutenant who had been drilling some recruits back of the Pamfili-Doria Villa. After several weeks’ instruction, he asked a man, “Who lives over there?” pointing to the Vatican. “I don’t know,” was the answer. He called another man, who responded, promptly, “The Pope.” The officer, much encouraged, asked further, “What is his name?” “Victor Emmanuele,” was the unhappy response. This last story especially appealed to the officers. They told me their greatest difficulty is to get any kind of mental concentration from the Indians.
The exercises finally came to an end, with the Police Band—one of the finest I have ever heard—playing the waltz time of “Bachimba,” composed in honor of Huerta’s great victory when fighting for Madero against Orozco. Huerta gave me his arm and we went in to an elaborate collation—champagne, coldpatés, and sweets—Isitting on the President’s right. Huerta then made a speech that seemed as if it might have come from the lips of Emperor William, on the necessity of discipline, and the great results therefrom to the country. He said that when the country was pacified the almost countless thousands of the army would, he hoped, return to the fields, the mines, the factories, stronger and better able to fight the battle of life for having been trained to obedience, concentration, and understanding. When the speech was over, and all the healths had been drunk (mine coming first!), the President gave the sign and I turned to leave. We were standing in the middle of the flower-laden horseshoe table, and I moved to go out by the side I had come in. He stopped me.
“No, señora,” he said, “never take the road back—always onward.Adelante.”
Repeating, “Adelante,” I took the indicated way. As we went down the steps and into thepatiowe foundfourcameras ready, about three yards in front of us! I felt that Huerta was rather surprised, and I myself stiffened up a bit, but—what could “a perfect lady” do? It was not the moment for me to flinch, so we stood there and let them do their worst. I could not show him the discourtesy of refusing to be photographed—but here, on the edge of war, it was a curious situation for us both. Well, thecensuracan sometimes be a friend; the photograph won’t be in every newspaper in the States to-morrow. If, in a few days, diplomatic relations are broken off, that will be an historic photograph.
The Old Man is always delightful in his courtesy and tact. As for his international attitude, it has been flawless. On all occasions where there has been any mistake made it has been made by others, not by him. His national political attitude has perhaps left “much to be desired,” though I scarcely feel like criticizing him inany way. He has held up, desperately and determinedly, the tattered fabric of this state and stands before the world without a single international obligation. Who has done anything for him? Betrayed at home and neglected or handicapped abroad, he bears this whole republic on his shoulders.
I am trembling with excitement. On getting out of the motor, I met Hyde, of theHerald. He has just had a telegram (the real sense made clear by reading every other word—thus outwitting the censor) that the whole North Atlantic fleet was being rushed to the Gulf, and that a thousand marines were being shipped from Pensacola. Hyde says that Huerta said to-day, “Is it a calamity? No, it is the best thing that could happen to us!”
I hear Hohler’s voice in the anteroom....
Burnside and Courts came in just after Hohler, and the inevitable powwow on the situation followed. Burnside says we all have the Mexico City point of view, and perhaps we have. Hohler was very much annoyed at a hasty pencil scrawl just received from the north, informing him that Villa had confiscated many car-loads of British cotton and that many cruelties to Spaniards had been committed in connection with it. Certainly there is not much “mine and thine,” in the Constitutionalist territory, and not much protection. Here property and life are respected.
There is a report that Huerta wants to send the “Tampico incident” to The Hague for settlement. He insists that he was in the right about the matter, and that any impartial tribunal would give him justice. Be that as it may, we know he must give the salutes. It onlyremains for him to find the way.Cherchez la formule, if notla femme.
Another day, full to exhaustion, and winding up with the reception at Chapultepec. There, while the President and N. were conferring, we, the sixty or seventy guests—Mexicans, plenipotentiaries, officials, civil and military—waited from six o’clock until long after seven to go in to tea, or “lunch,” as they call it here. Beyond occasional glances at the closed doors, no impatience was manifested. All know these are the gravest and most delicate negotiations. We whiled away the time on the palm-banked terrace, listening to the music of a band ofrurales, who made a picturesque mass in their orange-colored clothes embroidered in silver, with neckties so scarlet that they were almost vermilion, and great, peaked, white felt hats, with a heavy cord around the crown of the same color as the flaming cravats. They sat in one corner of the great terrace, playing their national music most beautifully—dances full of swing, or melancholy and sensuous airs of the people, on zithers, mandolins, guitars, harps, and some strange, small, gourd-like instruments played as one would play on a mandolin.
At last the President and N. came in, looking inscrutable. No time to ask results now. The President gave his arm to me, and he then wanted N. to take in Madame Huerta; but thechef du protocolheaded off this rather too-close co-operation, saying that was the place of the Russian minister. I talked to Huerta to the limit of my Spanish, with pacific intent, but he kept glancing about in a restless way. I even quoted him that line of Santa Teresa, “La paciencia todo lo alcanza.” He asked me, abruptly, what I thought of his international attitude, and before I could reply to this somewhat difficult question he fortunately answered it himself.“Up to now,” he said, “I have committed no faults, I think, in my foreign policy; and as for patience, I am made of it.” He added, “I keep my mouth shut.” I changed the subject, too near home for comfort, by telling him that his speech of yesterday, to the troops, might have been made by the Emperor of Germany. I thought that would send his mind somewhat afield; you know he loves Napoleon, and would be willing to include the Kaiser. He brightened up and thanked me for the compliment, in the way any man of the world might have done.... It is a curious situation. I have all the time a sickening sensation that we are destroying these people and that there is no way out. We seem to have taken advantage of their every distress.
We hurried away at eight o’clock, so that N. might see Courts at the station, and give him the summary of his conversation, to be repeated to Admiral Fletcher. It was that Huerta would be willing to give the salutes if he couldtrustus to keep our word about returning them. As he certainly has no special reason for any faith in our benevolence, he finally stipulated that the twenty-one salutes be fired simultaneously. N. said he was very earnest and positive during the first part of the conversation, but that toward the end he seemed more amenable. Heaven alone knows how it will all end. One thing is certain—it is on the lap of the gods and of Huerta, and the issue is unknown to the rest of us.
I got home from the station to find Mrs. Burnside in the drawing-room, ready to spend the evening. The captain was down-stairs, with what he afterward characterized as “blankety blanks” (willing, but unmechanical civilians), who were helping him to set up the rapid-firing guns, otherwise known as the “doves of peace.” Mrs. Burnside tried to persuade me to go to Vera Cruz to-morrow, when she departs, but I couldn’t, in conscience,cause a probably unnecessary stampede of people from their comfortable homes. If I had taken advantage of the various opportunities held out to flee, I would have had, in common with many others, an uncomfortable winterà chevalbetween Mexico City and the “Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz.”
I don’t know what answer has been made to the Hague proposition, if any, by Washington; but it must have staggered Mr. Bryan and caused him to blink. The Hague is one of the dearest children of his heart, and universal peace has ever been a beloved and fruitful source of eloquence. When it confronts him at this special moment, can he do otherwise than take it to his bosom?
This morning things seemed very bad. A curious telegram came from Mr. Bryan, to be given to the press for its private information, not yet for publication, saying that the Tampico incident was quite in the background, but reciting two recent and heinous crimes of Mexico. First, a cable for the Embassy was held over by a too-zealous partisan of thecensuraat the cable-office. N. arranged that matter in two minutes, over the telephone, when it was brought to the attention of the cable authorities. Hohler happened, for Mexico’s good, to be with N. at the time. The incident was less than nothing, until mentioned in the open cable from Washington. The other incident, also well enough known, happened a short time ago in Vera Cruz, where another too-zealous official arrested an orderly in uniform, carrying the mails between the ships and the Vera Cruz post-office. That matter was dismissed after an apology, a nominal punishment of the offending official, and the immediate release of the carrier. Admiral Fletcher attached no importance to the affair.
I have not cited the incidents in order. The telegram for the press, in referring to the cable incident, begins, “far more serious is the withholding by the censor of a cable addressed to thechargé d’affairesof the United States.” It also points out that no like incidents have happened to the representatives of other nations in Mexico, and that we must protect our national dignity—to which I respond with all my heart. But when we do intervene here—which I know we must—let it be for some vital case of blood and destruction. The day Huerta has a stroke of apoplexy, gets a knife in his back, or is killed by a firing-squad, we must come in, for anarchy will reign. He may not be the best man in the world, and clever and even profound thoughts of one day are counterbalanced by ineptitudes of the next; but he does seem to be the only man in Mexico who can and will keep order in the provinces under his control, especially now that the best and most conservative elements are associated with the task—Rincon Gaillardo, Iturbide, Garcia Pimentel, and many others.
Not a word of all the happenings of the past few days has appeared in any newspaper in Mexico. The great potentialities are hidden, like a smoldering, unsuspected fire. Thereisa throbbing, an unrest—but the great public doesn’t yet know whence it comes. I think if N. has any luck in his pacific endeavors he ought to have the Nobel prize—though I understand hischef directhas an eye on that.
Last night N. was with the Minister for Foreign Affairs for several hours. They finally tracked Huerta to his house. The orderly said he had gone to bed, but the Minister sent in his card. After a wait of half an hour he sent in another. Huerta had forgotten that he was waiting. He received him in bed, and in the midst of theconversation asked him, as he afterward told N., what he thought about his pajamas, adding, with a grin, that they wereJapanese. Nelson did not go in. He had spent several hours with the President at various times during the day, and did not want to see him about painful and irritating matters at such a late hour, when he and the President were worn out.
In thinking over Huerta’s remark, a few days ago, about the demonstrations of our fleet not being a calamity, I believe he means that this is, after all, the best way of consolidating the Federal troops. We may stiffen them to service of their country against a common enemy—but, oh, the graft! Oh, the dishonesty and self-seeking that animate many of the hearts beating under those uniforms! They sell anything and everything to the highest bidder, from automobile tires and munitions of war, to their own persons. As for punishing the various officers that are guilty, it seems very difficult; court-martials would mean the decamping to the rebels of many officers, high and low. So whenwedemand punishment of this or that official, the “Old Man” is placed between the devil and the deep sea. It is a position he should now be accustomed to, however. On spies or on those conspiring against the government he is relentless. That all political colors recognize, and they do not hold it against him. Apropos of going over to the rebels, the Mazatlan incident of last Christmas (or January first) is a case in point. The officers on the gunboatTampicoin the harbor had a scandalous debauch, with stabbings, etc. They were to be court-martialed, but they got out of that difficulty by going over, boat and all, to the Constitutionalists at Topolobampo!