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DEPOSITED by the

LINONIAN AND BROTHERS LIBRARY

Books by
EDITH O'SHAUGHNESSY
A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE IN MEXICO.
Illustrated.
DIPLOMATIC DAYS. Illustrated.

HARPER & BROTHERS. NEW YORK
[Established 1817]

Photograph by Ravell
HILLSIDE HOUSES AND CHURCH TOWERS IN THE ZAPATISTA COUNTRY

DIPLOMATIC DAYS

BY
EDITH 0;SHAUGHNESSY
[mrs. nelson o'shaughnessy]
AUTHOR OF
A Diplomat's Wife in Mexico

ILLUSTRATED

HARPER y BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON

Copyright, 1917, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
Published November, 1917
L-H

CONTENTS
Foreword  xi

First impressions of the tropics — Exotic neighbors on shipboard —
Havana — Picturesque Mayan stevedores — Vera Cruz — The journey
up to Mexico City  Page I
II
First visit to the Embassy — Adjusting oneself to a height of eight
thousand feet in the tropics — Calle Humboldt — Mexican servants
— Diplomatic dinners — Progress of Maderista forces . . Page 16
III
Mexico in full revolution — Diaz's resignation wrung from him — Mem
ories of the "King in Exile" — President de la Barra sworn in — Social
happenings — Plan de San Luis Potosi  Page 32
IV
First reception at Chapultepec Castle — First bull-fight — A typical Mexi
can earthquake — Madero's triumphal march through Mexico City —
Three days of adoration  Page 47
V
Dinner at the Japanese Legation — The real history of the Japanese in
Mexico — Dinner at the Embassy — Coronation services for England's
king — The rainy season sets in  Page 61
VI
Speculations as to the wealth of "the Greatest Mexican" — Fourth of
July — Madero as evangelist — The German minister's first official
dinner with the Maderos as the clou  Page 69

CONTENTS VII
The old monastery of Tepozotlan — Lively times on the Isthmus —
The Covadonga murders — The Chapultepec reception — Sidelights on
Mexican housekeeping — Monte de Piedad  Page 84
VIII
Elim's fourth birthday party — Haggling over the prices of old Mexican
frames — Zapata looms up' — First glimpse of General Huerta — Ro
mantic mining history of Mexico  Page 93
IX
The Virgen de los Remedios — General Bernardo Reyes — A descrip
tion of the famous ceremony of the "Grito de Dolores" at the
palace  Page 107
X
The uncertainty of Spanish adverbs — Planchette and the destiny of the
state — Madame Bonilla's watery garden - party — De la Barra's
" moderation committee " — Madero's "reform platform" . Page 120
XI
Election of Madero — The strange similarity between a Mexican election
and a Mexican revolution — The penetrating cold in Mexican houses
—Madame de la Barra's reception — The Volador . . Page 127
XII
Dia de Muertos — Indian booths — President de la Barra relinquishes
his high office — Dinner at the Foreign Office — Historic Mexican
streets — Madero takes the oath  Page 141
XIII
Uprising in Juchitan — Madero receives his first delegation — The Ameri
can arrest of Reyes — Chapultepec Park — Sidelights on Juchitan
troubles — Zapata's Plan de Ayala  Page 153
XIV
The feast of Guad<Jupe — Peace reigns on the Isthmus — Earthquakes —
Madero in a dream — The French colony ball — Studies in Mexican
democracy — Christmas preparations  Page 164

CONTENTS XV
The first Christmas in Mexico City — Hearts sad and gay — Pinatus —
Statue to Christopher Columbus  Page 179
XVI
Off for Tehuantepec — A journey through~the~jungles— The blazing
tropics — Through Chivela Pass in the lemon-colored dawn — Ravages
of the revolution — A race of queens  Page 184
XVII
Gathering clouds — "Tajada" the common disease of republics — Recep
tion at Chapultepec — Madero in optimistic mood — His views of
Mexico's liabilities to America  Page 198
XVIII
Washington warns Madero — Mobilization orders — A visit to the Escuela
Preparatoria — A race of old and young — The watchword of the early
fathers  Page 206
XIX
A tragic dance in the moonlight — Unveiling George Washington's statue
— The Corps Diplomatique visits the Pyramids of San Juan Teoti-
huacan— Orozco in full revolt  Page 217
XX
Madero shows indications of nervous tension — Why one guest of
Mexico's President did not sit down — A novena with Madame
Madero — Picture-writing on maguey — Picnic at El Desierto — San
Fernando  Page 226
XXI
Mexico's three civilizing, constructive processes — A typical Mexican
family group — Holy Week — "La Catedral" on a "canvas" of white
flowers — Reply of the Mexican government  Page 245
XXII
The home of President Madero's parents — Sefior de la Barra returns
from Europe — Zapatistas move on Cuemavaca — Strange disappear
ances in Mexico — Oil — The President and the railways . Page 254

CONTENTS XXIII
The "Apostle" begins to feel the need of armed forces — A statesman
"who is always revealing something to somebody" — Nursing the
wounded at Red Cross headquarters  Page 269
XXIV
One Indian's view of voting — Celebrating the King's birthday at the
British Legation — A single occasion when Mexican "pillars of so
ciety" appear — Reception at Don Pedro Lascurain's . Page 279
XXV
Orozco and his troops flee toward the American border — A typical
conversation with President Madero — Huerta's brilliant campaign
in the north — The French fetes — San Joaquin .... Page 295
XXVI
Balls at the German Legation and at Madame Simon's — Necaxa — A
strange, gorge-like world of heat and light — Mexican time-tables —
The French trail  Page 310
XXVII
A luncheon for Gustavo Madero — Celebrating the Grito at the
Palace — The President's brother explains his philosophy — Hacienda
of San Cristobal — A typical Mexican Sunday dinner . . Page 316
XXVIII
Good-by to Mexico, and a special farewell to Madame Madero — Vera
Cruz — Mexico in perspective  Page 333

ILLUSTRATIONS

Hillside Houses and Church Towers in the Zapatista
Country  Froniistiec.
The Revolutionary Camp, May 5, 191 1  Facing p. 10
(In front, Francisco I. Madero, behind him, Josfi Marcia
Suarez. Next him, Gustavo Madero. At left front, Abram
Gonsalez. All are dead)
Francisco I. Madero  '
(From «. photograph taken in iqii)
Madero and Orozco in 191 i — Madero at the Left. . '
Mexican Women Selling Tortillas  '

Nelson O'Shaughnessy
(Secretary of the American Embassy,
1911-1912)

Paul Lefaivre
(French Minister to Mexico, 1911)
Francisco Leon de la Barra
(President ad interim of the Mexican
Republic between Diaz and Madero)

A Road-side Shrine 
Von Hintze, German Minister to Mexico ....
(1911 to 1914)
Mexican Women Water-carriers 
A Typical Group of Corn-sellers 
Elim O'Shaughnessy, Mexico, June, 191 i 1
Madame Lefaivre, Wife of the French Minister >
to Mexico, 191 i J
Xochimilco 
Boats on the Viga Canal 
At El Desierto, April 29, 1912
(Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and Elim in the foreground)
Luncheon at the Villa des Roses
(In front row, left to right, Mr. de Vilaine. Mile, de Treville,
Ambassador Wilson, Madame Lefaivre, Mr. J. B. Potter, Mr.
Rieloff (German Consul-general), Mrs. Nelson O'Shaughnessy,
Von Hintze, Mr. Kilvert, Mr. Seger)
A Beautiful Old Mexican Church 
Mexican Nuns Going to Mass .,,..,,,

24
3442

46

567488
108 134
154
200

234 2623°4

FOREWORD
The letters which form this volume were written in a
period of delightful leisure, when I was receiving my first
impressions of Mexico. The might and beauty of the great
Spanish civilization, set in a frame of exceeding natural
loveliness, kindled new enthusiasms, and to it all was added
the spectacle of that most passionately personal of human
games, Mexican politics.
Though I was standing on its threshold, I had little
prescience of the national tragedy which later I was to
enter into completely, beyond the feeling of mysterious pos
sibilities of calamity in that rich, beautiful, and coveted
land. I saw as in a glass darkly dim forms whose outlines I
could not distinguish, and I heard as from a distance the
confused cries of a people about to undergo a supreme
national crisis, where the greatest delicacy and reserve were
necessary on the part of the neighboring nations.
Since then all has happened to Mexico that can happen
to a land and permit of its still existing. Even as indi
viduals bear, they know not how, the unbearable, so has
Mexico endured.
It is not easy for those who witnessed her great years

FOREWORD
of prosperity and peace to be reconciled to the years of chaos
which have followed, unable as they are to distinguish any
good that has resulted to compensate for the misery under
gone. All theories have been crushed to atoms by the tragic
avalanche of facts, and above it the voice of the prophet
has been heard, "JLet that which is to die, die; that which
is to be lost, lose itself; and of them that remain, let them
devour one another" — until the time comes for new things.
Edith Coues O'Shaughnessy.
Paris, September, 1917.

DIPLOMATIC DAYS

DIPLOMATIC DAYS

First impressions of the tropics — Exotic neighbors on shipboard —
Havana — Picturesque Mayan stevedores — Vera Cruz — The journey
up to Mexico City Off the Florida Keys,
On board the Monterey, May i, ign.
PRECIOUS MOTHER: From the moment of ar
rival at the docks I began to have a suspicion of
the tropics, which, however, with everything else, was
in abeyance as we rounded Cape Hatteras. During that
period an unhappy lot of passengers spent the hours
more or less recumbent.
We left New York on a day beautiful and sunny over
head, but uncertain and white-capped underneath, and
I don't want to repeat Cape Hatteras in any near future.
However, sea evils are quickly forgotten, and I am
"taking notice" again.
When we got down to the docks strange equatorial-
looking boxes were being unloaded, and there were un
familiar odors proceeding from crates of fruits, with spiky
green things poking out, and something aromatic and
suggestive about them. Unfamiliar people more highly
colored and less clear-cut than I am accustomed to
were gesticulating and running about and talking in

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Spanish, with quantities of strange-looking luggage, count
less children, and a great deal of very light-yellow shoe.
It was twelve o'clock as we left. N. had our steamer
chairs arranged, and we went down to lunch to the sound
of the loudest gong that ever invited me to refresh.
The comedor (dining-room) had its menu printed in
English and Spanish, and, of course, I lapped up the
Spanish names with my lunch, which gave a charm and
a relish to the otherwise uninteresting food. Table
decorations in the shape of paper palms were rather dis
illusioning. The merest scrap of any growing exotic
thing would have satisfied me, though N. said I was
probably expecting to find the comedor smothered in
jasmine and mimosa, with orchids clinging to the walls.
Well, perhaps I was. You know I am romantic.
I am now ensconced on deck. Low, yellow stretches
in the distances are the "Keys," and I am beginning to
feel a slow firing of the imagination as we slip into these
soft, bright waters — into the Caribbean. Our old Lamar-
tine quotation comes to mind, ' 'Ainsi toujourspoussis vers
de nouveaux rivages," etc.
A Merida family occupies the state-room nearest mine
— five children, mother, father, and a beetling-browed
Indian maid. I stumble over details of their luggage
every time I go out of my cab'n — a pea-green valise, a
chair for one of the younger ehi dren, a large rocking-
horse, a great, round, black-and-white cardboard box
from some hat-shop in Fourteenth Street — they don't
seem to mind what they carry.
Their parrot I had removed early in the game; none
of them ever went near it to give it food or water,
though they had gone to the immense bother of travel
ing with it. It was evidently pleased to be going back
to where it had come from, and its liveliest times were
between 4 and 6 a.m. and 2 and 4 p.m.
2

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
They have an awful little boy they shriek at, called
Jenofonte (in toying with my dictionary I see it is
Zenophon in English) . He " hunts ' ' with a quiet, bright-
eyed little sister called Jesusita, whom I have several
times found in my state-room investigating things. It
seemed at first like having them all in with me. The
state-rooms have only the thinnest partitions, with
about a foot of nothing at the top for ventilation.
The steward tells me they get off at Progreso. "Pa-
pacito" is a wealthy henequen planter. "Mamacita"
boarded the ship wearing huge diamond ear-rings and
molded into the tightest checked tailor-suit you ever
saw. This morning she is perfectly comfortable in a
lace-trimmed, faded lavender wrapper — doubtless in
spired by the warm air. I can see her in sack and petti
coat on the plantation.
The boat is full of children, and how they squabble!
The various parents come up and talk in loud, harsh
voices, and gesticulate and scream what seem maledic
tions on one another, and one thinks there is going to
be a terrible row, when suddenly everybody walks off
with everybody else as pleasant as you please, and it is
all over till the next time.
More or less sophisticated literature was sent me for
the voyage by various well-wishers. To-day I have
been reading Les Dieux ont Soif, but with a feeling that
this is not a setting for Anatole France, and that I
would do better to wait in spite of all the cleverness.
He can't compete with this sea-preface to the Mexican
book I am to read.
I have an exotic neighbor in the chair next mine who
attracted me the first day out by her steamer rugs,
which seemed to be white lace bedspreads with wadded
linings, now not as fresh as they were before we all
disappeared during the rounding of Cape Hatteras. I

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
have only been wont to travel in directions where
steamer rugs are steamer rugs. I was further interested
by the pillows embroidered with large pink-and-blue
swallows and the word in Italian, Tornero, reminding me
of the things one used to buy at Sorrento or Naples or
in the Via Sistina.
A large, fierce-mustached, chinless man sits by her —
husband, manager, protector, or devourer, I know not.
She is an Argentine dancer going to do a "turn" in
Havana, a good soul with a naturally honest look out
of her sloe-black eyes and the most lovely lines from
waist to feet; for the rest getting top-heavy. I imagine
she is "letting herself go," as large boxes of chocolates
and candied fruits are always by her side, which she
presses on Elim every time he appears. He is sitting
by me and says to tell you that he has you zucker-lieb.
He runs the deck from morning till night, and I
think his little alabaster legs are taking on a brownish
tinge. It is getting very warm, but there is always
one side of the boat where a breeze is to be had He
has been divested of most of his clothing, and is wearing
a little pale-blue linen suit, short above his sweet, white
knees. He looks like the fairest lily among all these
dark blossoms.
Later.
Between six and seven o'clock the sea was a marvel
ous mauve and blue; myriads of little white- winged
flying-fish were springing out of the water; over us was
a green-and-orange sky in which a pale crescent moon
was shining. Tell Elliott these wondrous seas seem
to belong to him. My thoughts enfolded him tenderly
as a soft darkness fell.
Early to-morrow morning, about 6.30, we get into
Havana. The Jacksons cabled us before we left New
York to lunch with them at the Legation
4

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The Monterey has been taking strange, unrelated as
sortments of passengers to Mexico for decades, and her
only resemblance to the big ocean liners is that she floats.
The cabins have hard, narrow berths with a still harder
shelf of a sofa, and when I add that a bit of cloth was
tied round the stopper of my basin to prevent the water
from running out, you will quite understand. I used
half of my bottle of listerine on the stopper, and then
removed the cloth, with the result that I have to be
quick about my ablutions. But when one is running
into a blue-and-mauve sea with a rainbow-colored sky
above, it does not matter; one is bathed in a gorgeous
iridescence. The captain tells me that on the last trip
they ran into a hurricane, with the water suddenly slop
ping and washing about in the famous comedor, every
body wet and trying to stand on chairs and tables,
screaming and saying prayers. May 3d.
Between Havana and Progreso.
Yesterday we had a pleasant day with the Jacksons.
You know they are always handsomely established, and
we found them in a very beautiful old Spanish house
opposite an old church with a pink belfry, and a tall
palm pressed against it — the sort of silhouette I had
dreamed of and hoped for. My eyes received it grate
fully as we drove up to the door.
Once in the house, dim, cool, large spaces enveloped
us, and Mrs. Jackson, very dainty in the freshest and
filmiest of white dresses, received us. We had not met
since the old Berlin days. Mr. Jackson, also in im
maculate white, was coming down the broad stone
stairway from the chancery as we got there.
They showed us the interesting house, a type fast dis
appearing, alas! Mostly they are being turned into
cigarette-factories or being torn down to make room
S

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
for entirely unsuitable buildings, such as are in vogue
in the temperate zone. Large suites of rooms are built
between a wide outer veranda and a large inner corridor
giving on a courtyard. During the season of rains,
it appears, the water rushes down the broad stairway,
and the furniture in the huge, window-paneless rooms
is piled up in the middle. Nobody keeps books or en
gravings in Havana, on account of the dampness. There
is not a first edition on the island. Even shoes and
slippers left in the closets get a green mold in no time.
Mr. Jackson says they have a lot of work at the Lega
tion, and everything in Havana costs the eyes of the
head. An hour or so after lunch, with its "Auld Lang Syne"
flavor spiced with our hot, tropical inquiries, we .took a
drive along the deserted Malec6n, the entire popula
tion evidently at the business of the siesta. But
Havana should always be seen, indescribably beautiful,
from a ship entering the port in the pearly morn, as I
saw it.
About four o'clock, when we were driving to the land
ing, the town began to wake up. There was much com
ing and going of a many-colored population, with the
dark note dominating, and much whistling and hum
ming, and many knowing-looking, pretty, flashing-eyed,
very young girls were walking about. We had been re
freshed with one of the national beverages — shredded
pineapple in powdered ice — most delicious, before leav
ing the Legation. It helped us over the blaze of water
to the Monterey.
After getting back I walked about the deck, watching
the beautiful little harbor filled with all sorts and con
ditions of ships, hailing from the four winds of the earth.
The Kronprinzessin Cecilie, with the new German
minister to Mexico aboard, was just going out of the
6

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
harbor, and I was shown where they were busy dredging
for the Maine. A part of her historic form was to be
seen and "gave to think."
About six o'clock fiery clouds began to pile themselves
up in the heavens with a lavishness I am unaccustomed
to. One could not tell where the sun was actually set
ting. The whole horizon was red and pink and saffron
and vermilion, and the rose-tinted Cabana fortress and
Morro Castle cut sharply into it. The waters of the
harbor slowly became a magnificent purple, and as the
ships began to hang their masthead lights, and the
throb of coming night was over everything, we steamed
out. For long after we could see the jeweled Hghts of
the lovely isle. So far, so good.
We have a day at Progreso, and we are planning to
go ashore to visit Merida, the famous old capital of
Yucatan, and evidently most interesting. The accounts
in Terry's Guide are quite alluring. It was founded on
the remains of the ancient Mayan city, and has a cele
brated cathedral built by one of the men who came over
with Cortes, and still filled with good old things. The
description of Montejo's house, with its door flanked on
each side by the stone figure of a Spanish knight with
his feet on the head of a Mayan Indian, shows what
that conqueror thought of the situation.
Captain Smith, very rotund and quite blase about the
thrills of passengers, who has not been ashore at Merida
for three decades, though he passes by many times a year,
recommended us to stay on the boat, saying Merida
was always "hotter than Tophet," too hot to see any
thing. "I know," he added. "I have seen 'them' go
and seen 'them' return."
Some spectacled German travelers quite enlivened the
deck to-day. When they first hove in sight I thought
they were professors or scientific men of some sort, each
7

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
having a large, flat valise under his arm. The valises,
according to the modest yet piercing glance I cast,
proved, however, to be filled with underpinnings for
the female form divine, that they are going to introduce
into Yucatan — coarse embroidery and lace-trimmed arti
cles, with machine-stitching you could see the length of
the deck, and both men simply dripped with samples.
Dots, stripes, and checks, with the prices attached,
seemed to be their whole existence.
Awhile ago, however, the largest and most florid one
leaned against the railing under the warm starry sky,
as we steamed through a phosphorescent sea, and sang
Walther's "Preislied" in a beautiful tenor voice, with
the purest, smoothest phrasing. The other, regretting
at intervals that he had not brought his geige with him,
hummed a delightful second part to Wie ist es moglich
dann dass ich dich lassen kann. It was all as natural
as breathing, and as close. May 4th.
Between Progreso and Vera Cruz.
The voyage is drawing to an end. A peace which
doesn't pass understanding has fallen on my part of
the ship as the Merida family and their rainbow luggage
were taken off to the sound of the shrieks of the parrot,
the screams of the family, and endless running back to
get things.
We did not go ashore, after all, as we had planned.
From the direction of M6rida came a strange heat en
veloping like a garment, a heat unknown to me, and
a dazzling glaze of light, which seemed to bore holes
through the eyes. Later on at sunset, red as blood,
there was a spongy crimson ambiency about each figure
on deck.
All day we watched the spotlessly clean Mayan
stevedores unloading the cargo on to the lighters. It
8

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
was an effect of brown skin and white or pale-pink or
green garments, which I suppose had been some coarser
color to begin with. They are Mayan Indians with a
big civilization behind them. I remembered dimly
those beautiful illustrated reports — I think from the
Smithsonian — that I used to look at in the Washington
house curled up in an arm-chair. It affected me to see
these remnants of a past race arrive for the unloading
of our steamer so clean, so fresh-smelling. All day long
they have been crying "Abajo!" and "Arriba!" as the
heavy load swung down or the iron claws swung up. The
little boats and lighters of all kinds have pious names —
_La Concepcidn Inmaculada, Asuncidn (the grimiest and
smallest of all was La Transfiguracidn) — instead of the
Katies and Susies and Dolphins of another clime.
Later.
We were thankful we had not ventured into the Merida
furnace. Some stout Germans who left in the morning
active, rosy, fat, and inquiring, came back languid,
lead-colored, flabby, and silent. What happened to the
two who debarked to introduce coarse undergarments
and fine singing into Yucatan I shall never know.
I thought of Elliott, when the darkish women in pink
dresses, with a blue veil or two and jewelry and many
children, got on the boat to go from Progreso to Vera
Cruz. It must have been the sort he used to see in
Haiti. I have just written Aunt Laura, to post at Vera
Cruz, that she may know we are en route to the land of
the cactus. Events have succeeded one another so
quickly these past few months that I am dazed. Only
the thread of love and sorrow and high adventure that
holds life together keeps me steady.
Yesterday Elim said, in the same tone he would have
used feeding the swans and the deer in any one of the
9

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
accustomed international parks, "Now I am going to
feed the sharks." He was hoping they would show some
interest in the bits of bread he threw at them. These
wondrous blue waters are simply infested with the raven
ing creatures, and any one who fell overboard would not
need to fear drowning. Since we left Havana it has
been all color, no contours, no masses, even, except
the gorgeous sunset clouds, and they have presented
themselves with unimaginable pomp and circumstance.
I have never seen such a waste of color.
The German son-in-law of Senator Newlands, whom
you saw in Berlin, is on board, also a count and countess
— I think the same ones that mixed the tomato catsup
in the bath-tub of the Washington house that the clergy
provided for them when they came from Rome seeking
fortune. An unidentified youth, terzo incommodo or com-
modo, for all I know, is with them ; the returning families
and German commercial travelers make up the rest.
To-day, though the sea is smooth to the eye, there is
a long, slow ground-swell, and this blanket of heat
further relieves one of all strenuosity. I begin to under
stand lots of things. Campeche Bay is a far cry from
the Ritz-Carlton — but what would life be without its
far cries? Friday $.}i.
Nearing Vera Cruz.
Very hot, though early this morning there was a
drenching rain, a deluge. The heavens simply opened,
and everything, for an hour, was running with a great
sound of water. Now the sun is out, a strange, prick
ing, nerve-disturbing sun.
I have a deep thrill of excitement when I think of the
Mexico in revolution that we are nearing, steaming so
quickly to the center of it all. The victories, the defeats,
the glories, the abasements, vanishings, and destructions
io

the revolutionary camp, may 5, 191 1
(In front, Francisco I. Madero; behind him, Jos6 Marcia Suarez; next him, Gustavo
Madero. In khaki at left front, Abram Gonsalez. AU are dead)

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
we may witness, all that troubled magnetic unknown
awaiting us! In looking over the newspaper in Mrs.
Jackson's cool, dim, vast boudoir we saw that the
Madero revolution is taking on great proportions. Old
things and new wrestling for supremacy, "and the
heavens above them all."
The  are going on to Mexico City to "eher eher
fortune." He is the brother of the tomato-catsup bath
tub episode, as I gathered, when he spoke of a brother
having been in Washington. He quite frankly tells
people that he himself has had bad luck, as on the way
to Mexico he had stopped at Monte Carlo, and of the
hundred thousand francs raised to begin life again in
the tropics he had lost eighty thousand at the tables.
Very sad!
We land at Vera Cruz about noon, according to Cap
tain Smith, and can take a night train (thirteen hours)
up to Mexico City. I had some thought of persuading
N. to wait over, that we might make the famous journey
by daylight. But the train leaves at 6 a.m., which would
mean a night in Vera Cruz, and what I hear about the
hotels is not confidence-inspiring. I have a feeling of
being completely at the mercy of the unknown and
the only partially controllable — unknown microbes, un
known humanities, unknown everything; and there is
the blue-eyed boy, so we will probably let the scenery
enjoy itself. Later, 3 p.m.
Sitting on deck in Vera Cruz harbor.
To-day is a great national holiday, the 5th of May
(when the French were defeated at Puebla), and things
are not moving quickly, at any rate not in our direction.
The health officials have not materialized. Somebody
said it was a bad time to arrive, anyway, as they would
be taking their afternoon naps.
11

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The only other visitor from foreign parts in the
harbor is the Kronprinzessin Cecilie lying against the
white glaze of shore. An old Spanish fortress, San
Juan Ulua, is near us — now used as a prison and most
dreadful, I am told. But I keep thinking how, through
the centuries, the vast, shining wealth of Mexico poured
into Europe from this port. Later.
The polite, vestless but not coatless health officials
have found us "clean," and we are now waiting for the
next set — I think it is the port authorities — to finish
their naps.
On the docks so near, but apparently so far, is lying
or sitting a dark-faced, peaked-hatted, white-trousered
race with one tall, white-skinned, white-clad figure
standing out — our consul, evidently come to meet us.
Captain Smith told me that in the old days navigators
got into Vera Cruz by the picturesque means of steering
so that the tower of the Church of San Francisco covered
the tower of the cathedral.
I was standing by him (it was his ninety-ninth en
trance into Vera Cruz harbor) just as we passed the lone
palms on the fiat, sandy island, and he heaved a sigh
of relief. In addition to the sandy islands and the
lonely palms were blackened ribs of various ships that
did not get into port. These things and the blur of
heat confusing the outlines of the city into a mass of
white, pink, and green, with a hint of a lustrous moun
tain form on a far horizon, are what I see as we sit here
ready to step ashore into the unknown.
Mexico City, May 6th, noon.
Hdtel de Geneve, a stone's-throw from the Embassy.
We got in early, at 7.30, and I did not feel, driving
through the broad streets with their wash of Indian
12

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
color, as one often does entering strange cities in the
early morning: "Why, oh, why have I come? What am
I doing here?"
There seemed abundant justification, if one could only
get at it ; some personal pointing of the finger of a gen
erally impersonal fate. It's all very strange to both the
psychical and physical being. N. went early to present
himself to the ambassador. We had purposely not
telegraphed our arrival. Elim is out with Gabrielle,
and I am rather limp and listless after the sleepless night,
which was an unforgetable rising up, up, up, with a
ringing in the ears, through an exotic, potential sort of
darkness. My last word was from the boat, posted at the con
sulate. Mr. Canada, our calm, sensible, silver-haired,
blue-eyed consul, welcomed us at Vera Cruz, piloted us
quickly through the furnace of the customs, across an
equally hot interval of sand and cobblestone to the dim,
cool consulate, where a strong, unexpected breeze was
blowing in at the sea-windows.
Then ensued a great telegraphing to and fro to know
if the line, the only one rumored to be intact to Mexico
City, were really open and safe. Other encouraging
rumors, such as the cutting of the water and light sup
plies of Mexico City by the revolutionaries, were rife.
But, not fancying a marooning in Vera Cruz, we de
cided "If it were done, 'twere well 'twere done quickly."
Half an hour before the train started, with babe,
baggage, and maid safely on board, we took a little
turn about the streets. A blessed blue darkness was
falling, all that glaze of heat was gone, and the note of
color proved to be little low, pink houses with a great
deal of green shutter and balcony. We went as far as
the Plaza, drawn by the sound of some really snappy
music. Indians, mantilla-covered, white-clad women,
13

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
little children in various stages of undress, and a for
eigner or two smoking, were sitting or walking about in
the palm-planted square, and under some arcades peo
ple were eating and drinking. The domed and belfried
cathedral was only a dark mass against the sky, but all
the same I deeply knew that it was the tropics, the
Spanish tropics. Thus has many a one debarked in a
tropical port, and there is nothing at all extraordinary
about it, except one's own feeling.
As the train moved out of the station every man had
his revolver or his rifle ready at hand, and there was a
great wiping and clicking and loading going on. The
colored porter and a young man reading the Literary
Digest gave, however, home notes of security.
It wasn't one of those nights when you "lie down to
pleasant dreams." As I put my head out of the window
at one of the dark stops the scent of some sickeningly
sweet unknown flower fell like a veil over my face.
There was a hollow sound of the testing of the wheels.
Torches and lanterns cut the darkness, so that I got
suggestions of unfamiliar silhouettes, as a peaked hat
or a flap of a cape or a bayonet caught the light. Sol
diers were guarding the bridges and trestle-works, which
seemed endless.
As the first dim light began to come in at my window
I drew up the curtain and looked out on a scene so beau
tiful, so unexpected, that I could have wept. The two
great volcanoes, Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl, were
high, rose-colored, serene, ineffably beautiful against
the sky, still a pale tint of bleu de nuit. I felt all the
alarms * and uncertainties of the darkness slip away.
Elim was rolled up like a little ball at the foot of the
berth, nothing of his head showing but a shock of yellow
hair. We were safely on the heights.
Dim, bluish fields of the unfamiliar maguey were

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
planted in regular rows. Even as I looked out they
began to take on a rich, brownish-pink tone, the little
Indian huts along the way became rose-colored, every
thing began to glow. The two peaks, which had had no
place in my consciousness since I wrestled with their
names at school, were masses of flame-color against a
sky of palest, whitest blue. At the Httle stations an
occasional red-blanketed, peaked-hatted Indian ap
peared. It was the Mexico of dreams.

II

First visit to the Embassy — Adjusting oneself to a height of eight
thousand feet in the tropics — Calle Humboldt — Mexican servants
— Diplomatic dinners — Progress of Maderista forces.
May 7, ign.
YESTERDAY proved very full, though I had thought
to engage it, as far as the outer world was con
cerned, by a single visit to the Embassy. N. came home
to lunch with the announcement that it was Mrs. Wil
son's day, so I went back with him, thinking to greet her
for a moment only, but she insisted on my returning
for the afternoon reception, and was most cordial and
welcoming. I came home, tried to rest, and didn't, and, finally
pulling my outer self together with the help of the big,
black Alphonsine hat, sallied forth at five o'clock to see
the general lay of the Mexican land. I found various
autos drawn up before the Embassy door, and Mrs.
Wilson, very gracious and attractive-looking in a helio
trope dress, was receiving many callers in her handsome,
flower-filled drawing-room. Various diplomatic people
were presented, but mostly, as it happened, from or
about the equator.
I met, however, a charming young Mexican — Del
Campo, I think his name is — from the Foreign Office.
His English was so choice and delightful that I asked
how it came about. He explained that he had an Irish
mother and had been en poste in London. Toward the
16

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
end the ambassador came in, very cordial, and asking
why in the world we hadn't telegraphed that we were
coming up on the night train, so that we might be
properly met; but I told him one couldn't be "properly
met" at 7 a.m.
An agreeable, clever man, Stephen Bonsai, who has
been correspondent at various crises for various news
papers in various parts of the world, came in late. He
is down here to watch the progress of the revolution
from the very good perspective afforded by Mexico
City. After every one but Mr. Bonsai had gone there
was an interesting conversation about the potentialities
of the Mexican situation.
The ambassador is a great admirer of Diaz, and fears
the unknown awaiting us.
In the evening we dined with the first secretary, Mr.
Dearing, a delightful man of good judgment, with
dark, clever eyes, who says he has in view just the house
for us. I am glad to find him here.
It's all rather a blur of fatigue, however, and this
morning not much better. I am conscious all the time
of an effort to adjust the body to an unaccustomed air-
pressure, a different ambiency. After all, it is nearly
eight thousand feet in the tropics. This hotel "leaves
to be desired" from every point of view, and we must
make other arrangements at the earliest opportunity.
Later.
Various reporters have been here wanting details of
our "previous condition of servitude," and bothering
us for our photographs, which we have not got.
Mr. Weitzel, special secretary, sent from Washington
to "help out" pending N.'s arrival, has been to lunch,
and I am going out to drive with Mrs. Wilson in a few
minutes. 17

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Was it not tragic — one of those tricky, inexplicable,
unnatural arrangements of fate — that Aunt Laura, up
from Tehuantepec on business, should have been leav
ing one station as we got in at the other? It would have
seemed to the human understanding the preordained
moment to span the decades between this day and that
long-ago parting in my childhood. Later.
Just home from a delightful drive about Chapultepec
Park with Mrs. Wilson. It is entered through a broad,
eucalyptus-planted avenue with fine monuments and
vistas, leading into the beautiful, poetic grounds, with
the far-famed castle of Chapultepec standing on a hill
in the midst, about which grow countless varieties of
exotic tree and flower. As we drove about she told me
ot the wonderful fiesta there at the time of the Centenary,
when the park was hung with thousands of electric
lights, of the dignity and state of Don Porfirio, and of
Dona Carmen's wonderful white Paris gown and her
strings of pearls and diamonds, and flashing through it
all her gracious smile as she received the great of the
earth, gathered from the four winds.
But there seemed something of a fairy tale about it
all, with a revolutionary army in the north headed
straight for us, brought together by an unknown dreamer
of the dream of equality, a sort of prophet and apostle. May 8th.
I have already sent off two letters, but this goes via
the pouch to Washington. I am not formulating any
thing about Mexico. I feel myself simply a receptacle
for impressions not yet crystallized.
I am now going to look at the house Dealing spoke of.
This hotel, though quite new, is already rickety and
18

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
proves itself more primitive at each turn. The doors
in every room are placed just where you don't expect
them; either you can't shut them or they won't open.
The hot water runs cold, and the cold hot. We are up
a huge number of stairs, the first step placed at right
angles as you go out of the door; and I seem to be
living in a world of luggage. The pleasant rooms can
only be got at through the -undesirable ones. The food
to me is interesting with its American veneer over un
classified substances, but would never do for Elim.
This afternoon I made official calls with Mrs. Wilson —
just a leaving of cards, and in the evening we dine with
Dealing and Weitzel, who, now that N. has arrived, is
returning immediately to Washington. The weather is
beautiful, but the dark and splendid clouds that yester
day "gathered round the setting sun" are, they tell me,
the forerunners of the rainy season. May <?, ign.
Instead of dining with Mr. Weitzel we all had a very
pleasant dinner at the Embassy last night. Everything
exceedingly well done. A Belgian maitre d'hdtel has
brought his Brussels ways with him, and it might have
been a pleasant dinner anywhere. The Embassy is
very handsomely equipped throughout with the fur
nishings of Mr. Wilson's Brussels Legation, and the
rooms are all large and high-ceilinged and generally
ambassadorial-looking. Mr. Wilson has a very com
plex situation well in hand, but says he has ample rea
son to fear that if Diaz goes it will be an embarking on
unknown seas in a rudderless ship. Personally I have
not got any of the points of the compass yet, but some
thing seems brewing in all directions. Later.
We took the charming dwelling I spoke of yesterday —
not too large, and thoroughly furnished by comfortably
¦3 J9

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
living, cultured people — 42 Calle Humboldt. The name
of the street itself is in the proper Mexican note. I
want to keep the house, which is built in the dignified,
solid way of half a century ago, on the basis of the former
masters, so I looked over the accounts, which in them
selves give a picture of Mexican life.
The servants get fifteen cents a day for their food,
consisting largely of frijoles, and their everlasting
pulque, which my nose is no longer a stranger to, and
their wages range from seven to nine dollars a month.
There is a dear little flower-planted corridor — pink
geraniums and calla-lilies — running around the four sides
of the patio, on which all the rooms open, and there
is a second brick veranda, with various shrubs and
flowers and oleander-trees, out beyond the dining-room,
where Elim can play in the flooding sun. Four of the
servants have been many years with the Americans to
whom the house belongs, Mrs. Seeger and her daughter
departing only last week on the Ward Line Merida.
The house has never been rented before. Its only
drawback is that it is in the center of the town, though
it is at the end of the street near the broad Paseo.
The Embassy is some distance out, in one of the new
"Colonias." We can move in immediately. Every
thing is in apple-pie order. I have seen two smiling,
black-dressed, white-collared, white-aproned maids, who
said they wouldn't stay if I got a butler. It sounds so
promising that I certainly won't introduce any possi
bly disturbing element into this paradise. 42 Calle Humboldt.
I am sitting here quietly in the charming little library
waiting for the maitre de maison, whom we have just
missed ; a few final arrangements are to be made. There
are many bookcases filled with really good books, easy-
20

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
chairs, writing-desks, and all sheltered from this beauti
ful but cruel light by awnings at the windows of court
and street — everything comfortable and comme il faut.
The rooms have the high ceilings of this part of the
world, and in the drawing-room, which gives into the
library, are more books, and furniture that will be pleas
ant to live with.
Mrs. S., fearing possible destructions of a very prob
able revolution, took with her all her really good port
able things, I understand. Collections of fans, paint
ings on bronze, some old pictures, valuable bric-a-brac
— in short, the gleanings of years. I am thankful,
of course, not to have the responsibility of anybody's
special treasures.
The rooms are all enfilade, with the open corridor
running around the inside of the patio, and all, except
two big corner rooms giving on the street, open onto it.
Just opposite is the Ministry of Finance, and at the head
of the street in the big Plaza is the Foreign Office.
There is an artesian well at the back, but the water
nust be boiled and filtered. I understand one must
keep one's eye on the filtering and boiling, which seems
superfluous to the Aztec. Nothing is spoken except
Spanish, which pleases me, as it will break me in im
mediately. The servants are a cook, the two nice
maids, two washer-women, and a Httle half-priced maid
called a galopina. As you will judge by the name, she
does aU the running, and doubtless the kitchen work
nobody else will do.
I am most fortunate not to have to try my novice
hand on getting a household together in this land of
unknown equations. Just to step into a well-ordered
household is a piece of good luck. I have already seen
a corner I shaU make mine, a sofa near a bookcase and
reading-lamp, and an old, low, square table which I
21

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
shall put beside it for books and flowers, and where
the tea will be brought.
May loth.
A word in haste by the pouch. Don't believe all you
see in the newspapers, and especially don't let the Paris
Herald make you panicky. We are well, and to-morrow
we move into the pleasant home. In case there are riots
we can sport not only one oak, but two, as there is a
double set of doors to the large vestibule leading into
the courtyard, and we are up one flight, in what the
Italians would call the piano nobile. Nothing above
but a flat, convenient, accessible roof. I am told the
roof is a great feature of Latin-American life, especiaHy
in revolutionary days.
I write at length about the disposition of the house
because I know you wiU Hke to hear ; not because there
is one chance in a thousand of the siege so much talked
about, though it seems in the note to order large sup
plies from the American grocery-stores, and people are
having their doors and window-shutters strengthened.
The fighting on the frontier has nothing, as yet, to do
with us. May 1 2th.
All peaceful here in Mexico City. Diaz and Madero
are supposed to come to some sort of terms. The weU-
seasoned inhabitants who know the people and condi
tions feel there is no cause for personal anxieties, though,
of course, there are always alarmists. One minister,
whose posts during a long career have been Guatemala,
Siam, and Mexico, talks wildly, and has stocked his
house for a siege. He lets the water run into his tub
at night for fear the water-supply will be cut off, and has
had iron bars put across his shutters.
Yesterday, when we got to the house, there was not
a sign of any of the servants. It appeared completely
22

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
deserted, and might have been a Mayan ruin so far as
signs of Hfe were concerned. After an hour of thinking
their delicacy, or whatever it was, had gone far enough,
I investigated the back quarters, and they all appeared
smiling and ready. As I understand it, there was some
Spanish-Indian idea about not intruding at first; but I
wanted to get settled !
I was out this morning, getting a few necessary addi
tions to the house, though everything is here, even to
some linen and silver. The departing Belgian secretary
is having a sale, and I met there several of the colleagues
looking over his household gods.
Last night we were again at the Embassy for dinner,
and the cook returned me some of the morning house
money — fifty cents or so — that had not been used. I
was so surprised that I took it. They seem a pleasant,
peaceful, gentle, ungrasping sort of people.
The house is open day and night — we live a practi
cally outdoor Hfe. To get to the reaUy charming dining-
room with its yellow waUs, rare old engravings in old dark,
inlaid frames, its cabinets with bits of Napoleon, Maxi-
miHan, and other old china, we have to go out under
"the inverted bowl" of an unimagined shining blueness
and around the corridor. It certainly poetizes the hour
of refreshment. The climate is indescribably beautiful
to look at, but it is aU too high. Few foreigners can
stand it a la longue. The patio was flooded with moon-
Hght when I went to bed, and flooded with sun when I
woke up. I praised AUah.
The dinner of twelve at the Embassy last night was
very pleasant. President Taft's announcement that
there would be no intervention made every one feel easy
again. Rumors had been rife in town as to possible
decisions in Washington. I sat between the ambassador
and an American, Mr. McLaren, an intime of Madero,
23

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
in whose house he lay concealed last autumn when he
was in danger of arrest.
I was most interested in hearing, at first hand, about
Madero. Mr. McLaren, a clever lawyer with a long
experience of Mexico, says he is inspired, illuminated,
selfless, with but one idea, the regeneration of Mexico.
He seems to have no doubt of Madero's being able to
work out the Mexican situation along high, broad lines,
and thinks he will surely be here, in the city, through
force or the abdication of Diaz, within a month or two.
Mr. Wilson, on the contrary, told me again he saw
with dread the overthrow of the Diaz regime. Though
the President is eighty-three, with many of the infirmi
ties and obstinacies of old age, he also preserves many
of the qualities that made him great, and Mr. Wilson
said that he personally, in all his dealings with him,
never found him lacking in understanding or energy.
I reminded myself of La Fontaine's fable, Entre deux
Ages, with the difference, however, that instead of
having no hair left, I had no opinions left, when we rose
from dinner. We drove home in an open motor under
a thickly starred and gorgeous heaven; but the un
familiar constellations gave me sudden nostalgia. Later.
Last night the Ward Line Merida sank. The wife
and daughter of Mr. Seeger were on her. After five
hours of anguish and uncertainty, in complete darkness,
bereft of every personal belonging, the passengers were
transferred to the United Fruit Company steamer that
ran into them. The news has just come in. It makes
42 Calle Humboldt seem very safe. To think that as
we were returning to its security from the pleasant dinner
at the Embassy the disaster was taking place!
I look about this comfortable home and think how
¦24

FRANCISCO I. MADERO
(From a photograph taken in ionl

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
sheltered a spot had been forsaken but a short week ago,
of the treasures chosen from walls and cabinets to be
out of possible revolutionary harm, and now all is lying
at the bottom of the sea, off Cape Hatteras, and we,
strangers, are safe in the shelter of this home. "Who
shaU escape his fate?" I keep saying to myself. May 13th.
On the 10th Juarez was captured with its command
ing officer, General Navarro, by Orozco and Giuseppe
Garibaldi, who is down here foUowing out the family
traditions. I am writing in the comfortable little li
brary, doors opening everywhere on to the flower-
planted corridor. I have been reading Creelman's Life
of Diaz, and three volumes of Prescott are waiting on
my Httle table. Suddenly I find I am hungry with a
great hunger for the printed page and the old objective
and impersonal habits of thought. In Vienna the per
sonal, with its "grand seigneur" contour, seemed to re
place quite sufficiently for the time any objective views
of Hfe. A woman who reads there is likely to be mal vue,
which for some reason does not at all do away with the
insistent seductions of Viennese life.
Yours from the Dolder received, and the sight of the
envelope showing the familiar Zurich lake and hills
made me reaHze the mountains and seas that separate
us. Elim went to sleep with the envelope under his
piUow. The beautiful park nearest us, the "Alameda,"
of which I inclose a post-card, is unfortunately haunted
by Indians, picturesque, hungry, dirty. If it is true, as
transcendental souls say, that beauty is food, I need not
worry about them, but it does not make the place very
tempting for Elim's airings. He will have to be driven
up to Chapultepec Park.
We are to be presented to the President and his wife

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
this week, and are looking forward to meeting the
maker of modern Mexico and his charming consort.
They are in their large house near the Palacio, but gen
erally at this season have moved to Chapultepec.
May i6(h.
Yesterday Madero and Carbajal, who is the peace
envoy of Diaz, whatever that may mean, went into
conference at Juarez to consider the proposals of the
Diaz government. Everything here is in a melting con
dition, and how it will crystallize the fates alone know.
Various "innocent" bystanders were killed or injured
at Douglas in the early days of the revolution. Some
still more innocent, looking neither to the right nor to
the left, also got hurt, as, for instance, the lady leaning
over the wash-tub with her back to the land of the
cactus. They have put in a nice Httle bundle of claims,
and one flippant newspaper at home suggests putting the
town of Douglas on wheels and moving it to a place of
safety, rather than going to the expense of invading
Mexico for the recovery of claims past and future.
Last night we dined at the handsome French Legation
in the Calle Roma. The minister and his wife are
away, and in their absence the charge- d'affaires, De Vaux,
is Hving there with two friends, a Mr. de Vilaine, very
au courant with Mexican matters, and who has large
mining interests in Taxco and Colima. He showed us
some interesting silver ingots from a Httle mill at Mi
ramar on the Pacific coast, made up after the manner of
the early Spaniards.
A young man, D'Aubigny^in business here, completes
a pleasant trio, and we had a very agreeable dinner.
The retiring Spanish secretary, Romero, just appointed
to Teheran, and his Viennese wife were also there.
1 Killed during the battle of theSomme, 1916.
2t)

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Romero bears testimony to race, and his long and ele
gant silhouette fitted into the charming rooms most
harmoniously; but a taU, distinguished-looking man,
whose name I did not get, ought to have been hanging,
clad in a ruff and velvet doublet, in a gilt frame among
the Velasquez in the Madrid museum.
The Belgian minister, AUart, who has been here dur
ing the last several years of Don Porfirio's glory, took
me out. The conversation everywhere turns on the
poHtical situation, suppositions as to the abdication of
Diaz, prophecies as to how and when Madero will ar
rive, if the city will offer resistance, and each one's little
plan of campaign in case of siege.
There is a temporary narrow-gauge railroad running
from the arsenal to the Buena Vista station, across the
beautiful Paseo, for the expedition of men and muni
tions if necessary, which AUart told me appeared last
March in the night soon after Limantour's return. No
body seems to know exactly what forces are at the dis
position of the Federal government. The newspapers
get rich on the situation, however, and certainly it en
livens the dinners. May so, ign.
The Madero forces are in possession of the ports of
entry at Juarez and Agua Prieta, and can collect the
customs which, as one minister said, would be spent in
fancy by all, but in reaHty by the usual nearest few.
I saw some Mexican suffragettes the other day whor :
I wish their American sisters could have gazed upon.
They were armed with bandoliers fuH of ammunition
crossed over their breasts, and it did look like bullets
rather than baUots among the sisterhood here.
N. has photographed the patio and corridor, and I
wiU send you some copies as soon as possible.
Yesterday I caUed with Mrs. Wilson at the house of
27

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mrs. Nuttall, of philological and archasological fame,
who is away. It is the celebrated but ill-omened house1
that Pedro de Alvarado, Cortes's beloved, hot-blooded,
dashing lieutenant, built just after the Conquest, when
Coyoacan was the favorite spot of the high-born and
high-handed survivors. It has a most artistic facade,
pink, with the pink of ages, and decorated with a lovely
lozenge-shaped design.
One enters through a great carved wooden door, with
an old shrine above it, into a beautiful courtyard with
patches of sun and dark corners, and going up a broad
flight of outside stairs one finds oneself on a wide Bou-
gainviUea-hung veranda.
Mrs. Laughton, Mrs. Nuttall's daughter, gave us tea
in a high-ceilinged, thick-waUed room, filled with
flowers and bric-a-brac, with a beautiful, very large,
couple-of-centuries-old portrait of a nun Mrs. Nuttall
had found in some convent looking down on us. As the
poetry and beauty of that old civilization invaded me I
thought, "This is what all of Mexico might be, and is
not." Beautiful shell designs are over each door leading
into rooms of romantic and unexpected proportions.
Afterward we went down-stairs and passed through the
courtyard, in one corner of which is an old well, over
grown with flowers, which has a history as dark as its
depths. The body of Dona Catalina, the first wife of
Cortes, is said by evilly disposed historians to have
been thrown into it after a quarrel between herself and
Cortes in the old near-by Palacio.
As we walked in the garden I felt some strange magic
1 The Casa de Alvarado was once the home of the American consul-
general, Mr. Parsons, of regretted and appreciated memory, who was killed
stepping out of a street-car in Mexico City. Mr. Laughton subsequent
ly was murdered while at his mining-camp. Of course this has nothing
to do with the house, but its history, nevertheless, is bound up with
such decrees of fate. 38

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
exhaling from it aU, something possessing and almost
imploring. There were such lights and shadows, such
contours of cypress and eucalyptus, mingling with quince
and pear trees. The old arbor in the carrefour is over
grown with white roses, and the rest of the garden is
a mass of lilies of various kinds, heHotrope, and great
tangles of trailing pink geranium and honeysuckle.
Blue-flowered papyri were clustered about a microscopic,
water-lilied lake, quite black in the late afternoon
Hght. Around all was an old pink, vine-grown wall.
It was the hortus inclusus of poets, and I perceived then
in its fullness the dark, lovely imprint of Spain upon the
lands she conquered. The EngHsh, German, French
stamp on their colonies that I have seen is pale, efface-
able, and doubtless would be lost immediately once the
power is withdrawn. But this Spanish stamp has a
deathless beauty, and in aU the washings of all the
generations it does not seem to come out or off.
I stay at home a good deal. It is so pleasant — and
after so many years of the concurrences, of the displace
ments, the hastes and excitements of the great world,
how I love this full leisure! After aU, what is needed
to make Hfe interesting, I am discovering, is not action,
but atmosphere, and that I have here.
The President is very ill. I am deeply disappointed
that our audience has to be put off. I want to see the
old regime, now decidedly tottering, in its accustomed
setting. It appears he has an ulcerated tooth, and there
can be no receptions, formal or informal, in the present
state of affairs. Indeed, I have not seen "hide or hair"
of any of the actual government. Dona Carmen, of
whom I hear so many tales of goodness and tact, com
bined with the charming elegance of a woman of the
world, seems adored by high and low, and is very
CathoUc, The not too drastic enforcement of the
29

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
famous "Laws of Reform" is said to be due to her in
fluence. I have been looking into the history of Mexico since
the "Independence" — to try to get some sort of a "line"
on governmental psychology. So much bloodshed has
always attended a change of government here.
First came men Hke the priest Hidalgo and Morelos,
his disciple, men of burning hearts and flaming souls.
Then appeared a set of what to-day we would call in
tellectuals: Comonfort, Lerdo, Juarez are types. The
long reign of Diaz was preceded by all sorts of up
heavals, in which any one who had anything to do with
government lost his life.
However, all this concerned the Mexicans alone.
But now, with disorders menacing huge foreign interests,
a new element of discord and complication comes in.
As the generations renew themselves with certainty and
promptness, in the end the blow to things industrial is
the most serious; and don't think me heartless for stat
ing this simple, cruel truth. Diaz seems at last pushed
to the wall, and, of course, with him many foreign in
terests, which I understand are vital to the Hfe of the
country. He has had much wisdom, but the gods seem
to have withheld knowledge of the very practical recom
mendation of one of the old philosophers about succumb
ing in time. He is supposed, however, to have prom
ised his resignation, if his conscience lets him. He fears
anarchy, and, of course, he knows his people very, very
well. Even I, stranger and alien, have a sort of feeling that
if this revolution proves successful the "Hberties" of
the Mexican people will, as usual, get lost in the mel6e.
Giuseppe Garibaldi is said to have received the sword
from old General Navarro, when he gave it up at Juarez.
Can courtesy to foreigners be carried further? The
3°

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Boston Evening Transcript had an amusing bit, particu
larly so to me, saying the difficulty of finding out what
is happening in Mexico is that of telling which are the
names of the generals and which those of the towns.
May 221L
I am at home to-morrow, Tuesday, for the first time,
to whomever it may concern, taking the day every other
week, as seems the custom here. Besides getting settled
I have begun laying siege to the Spanish language with
my dictionary and my special system; I must learn to
read it immediately. An old copy of De Solis is what I
am "at" now, Historia de la Conquista de Mexico, printed
in Amsterdam, beautifully bound in red leather with
gold tooling, dedicated al Serenisimo Senor Maximiliano
Emanuel Duque de las Dos Bavieras. I gloated over its
title-page, and its "chaste and elegant style" makes
easy reading.
The natural changes are so beautiful here. The day
gives way to night without any twilight, but instead
there is a sort of richly colored lining to the first dark
ness that has a suggestive, indescribable charm and
mystery. When Mrs. Wilson and I drove home from
the Casa de Alvarado yesterday a mass of amethystine
shadows closed about us and all the world, and then in
a moment it seemed to be night ; but as I got out of the
motor I found the darkness was rich in the same way
some very old, glinting brocade would be rich.

Ill
Mexico in full revolution — Diaz's resignation wrung from him — Mem
ories of the "King in Exile" — President de la Barra sworn in — Social
happenings — Plan de San Luis Potosi. May 23d.
MY first "Tuesday" was accompanied by a drench
ing rain, but the colleagues mostly showed up,
noblesse oblige, each giving some rather disquieting items
about the political situation, according to his special
angle. Mrs. Wilson, who always does what it is "up" to her
to do, of course came. We are the only nation here
having an embassy. All the others have legations or
agencies of some sort, or have turned their affairs over
to the most related friendly nation on the spot. It
puts the Embassy in a position of continual supremacy
as far as rank and importance go.
Mr. de Soto, the "Velasquez" of the French Legation
dinner, came in late. He had spent last winter in Rome
with the Duke and Duchess d'Arcos. The duke was
Spanish minister here years ago. We talked of distant
Roman friends. He has often been to Marie K.'s beauti
ful house. I shall enjoy seeing something of him. He
knows Mexico in all its phases, and I find myself eager
to turn the pages of this wonderful new chapter, which
I feel should be written on maguey, not on mere paper.
May 24th., midnight.
Mexico is in full revolution, or, rather, in what seems
the normal act of getting rid of the executive. At five-
32

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
thirty I walked back to the Embassy with Mrs. Wilson,
from the Japanese Legation near by, where we had been
daUying with the German and Belgian ministers on
Madame Horigutchi's day.
The butler, watching at the door, rushed out to the
gate when he saw us, in the greatest excitement, passing
old Francisco, the Embassy gendarme, to say that five
thousand people were making a demonstration in front
of the Diaz house in the Calle de Cadena just back of the
palace, and that there was going to be trouble.
My one and instant thought was to get back to CaUe
Humboldt, to Elim, the falling of an empire being quite
a side issue. Just then the ambassador drove up in his
motor, having come by a roundabout way from Diaz's
house, where he had been making inquiries as to the
President's health. He had just escaped being caught
up in the mob.
I jumped into the motor, and he told Alonzo to take
me home as quickly as possible. The growling, rumbling
sound of a far-off mob is a disquieting thing, and I was
trembling for my boy as I drove along. We had the
thick doors of the courtyard entrance (the vestibule, or
zagudn, as they call it) closed and barred, all the front
shutters fastened, and soon were as snug as possible.
Too snug to suit me, for, once my infant was safely barri
caded, I felt the spirit of adventure rising.
N., who had been on an errand at the Foreign Office,
where he heard the news, came running across the Paseo,
thankful to find us all safely housed, with the further
information that mitrailleuses had been placed on the
palace roof, and that the police had fired on the crowd
in the great square, who were shouting, "Death to Diaz!"
many being killed and wounded.
Later on, about nine o'clock, with Dearing and Arnold,
who were dining with us, we sallied forth to go to the
33

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
theater as we had planned. A drenching, torrential
rain had come on. The streets along our route were
completely deserted, the rain having dispersed the mob
more efficaciously than the cannon. There were not
more than a dozen people in the whole theater, "El
Principal." The only inconvenience I had on that
eventful night was being seated in front of three of our
own compatriots, whose peculiar form of blasphemy got
so on my nerves that I had us all change our seats be
fore we could even try to listen to a farce on the order
of "Pagliacci," without the kilHng.
As we came out there were no cabs to be had, not
even a disreputable coche rojo, and we walked home down
the Avenida San Francisco and the broad Avenida
Juarez under umbrellas. The town had a general look
and feeling of having been through something. AH was
barred and silent except a few broken shop-windows,
whose owners had not been quick enough about their
shutters. In the windows of one of the tea-rooms were
piles of untouched cakes and candies. One had only
to put one's hand out to get them.
Farther along, huddled up on the steps of the gaudy
Spanish exhibition building, were two tiny Indian boys
not more than five or six years old, so sound asleep that
their little hands refused to close over the pennies we
tried to give them. We finally put the money, not in
their pockets (they did not have enough clothes on to
have pockets), but behind their little backs. They have
probably been cold every night of their fives, so damp
stone steps and a rainy street could not prevent their
slumbers. Well, Madero is coming to change it all, to heal the
antique sores of Mexico. "Ojald" (God grant), as I
have discovered they are always saying when they aren't
saying, "QuiSn sabe?" I must put out my Hght. It
34

MADERO AND OROZCO IN I9II — MADERO AT THE LEFT

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
has been an exciting day. Even if you have not been
fired on yourself, it's nervously disturbing to know that
near-by people have been. Ascension Day.
This morning the mob was shot down at the top of
our street in the broad Plaza de la Reforma, between
the Foreign Office and the statue of the Iron Horse. I
felt myself not an innocent bystander, but a foolish one,
as to the sound of quick-firing guns and screams I stepped
out on the balcony and saw the mob running in all di
rections, some dropping as the guns placed by the
statue turned with a horrible, regular slowness across the
street. N. had rushed home from the Embassy by a side
way, hearing that our street was the scene of action.
I felt we ought to do something besides remaining be
hind closed doors when that agony was being enacted"*;
but I was told by N. and Mr. Seeger, who came up from
his office below to see how things were going, that
Americans in general and the Embassy in particular
should keep out of the trouble. In fact, it wasn't our
funeral. Police-attended stretcher-bearers appeared on
the scene a Httle later, and the streets were cleared of
dead and wounded.
N. sent a note to Limantour, to the Ministry of
Finance, when things were at their hottest, thinking it
might possibly suit his needs to be within our extra
territorial walls for a few hours. He sent back the
most appreciative of notes, saying, however, that he
had no alarm.
A day or two ago, standing at the window, I saw him
come out of the ministry. There is a clean-cutness
about him and his Gallic origin is written all over him
in an unmistakable elegance. He is considered by friend
4 35

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and foe alike to be absolutely incorruptible, and the
only thing I have ever heard even whispered against him
is that he is rich. However, the Romans that made the
roads doubtless got rich, but they made the roads, which
is what mattered to the Romans. On all sides are evi
dences of his taste as well as of his ability, for, besides
creating modern financial Mexico and placing her on her
golden feet, he laid out the park, he designed the uni
forms of the mounted guards there, beautified many of
the streets, and in a hundred ways helped to make
Mexico City what it now is. The Paseo, the beautiful
avenue leading for several kilometers from the "Iron
Horse" to the park, was laid out during Maximilian's
time, and was known as the Calzada del Emperador;
and the beautiful eucalyptus-trees that adorn it were
planted by order of Carlota — tempi passati.
May 25th, later.
All quiet again in the shade of Popocatepetl and
Ixtaccihuatl. To-day at 4.30 Diaz's resignation was
finally wrung from him.
There are picturesque tales of Dona Carmen standing,
black-robed, by his side as he signed away his glory
and power, and perhaps that of Mexico as well. A vast
throng waited all day for the news before the closed
doors of the Chamber of Deputies; but the mob is
again simply a peaceful-appearing crowd, singing the
national anthem and crying, "Viva Madero!" inter
spersed with an occasional "Viva De la Barra!"
I must dress for dinner at Hye de Glunek's, the
Austrian charg6 — the only invitation any one has ac
cepted or given since some days. Mrs. W., who is
always very kind, lends us the Embassy auto. One of
the incidents yesterday was the looting of the pawn
shops. I am afraid the Paris Herald will have blood-
36

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
curdling accounts of the goings-on, and I will send a
cable to you, hoping it will get through. In the midst
of Hfe we are no more in death here than elsewhere,
and it is all extraordinarily interesting. May 26th.
The streets were completely deserted last night as
we drove home from the very excellent dinner at Hye's,
at which the German and Belgian ministers, the French
charge, the Spanish minister and his pretty daughter,
the Romeros, et al., assisted. One sees no Mexicans
of any political shade abroad these days, and the change
of government has been effected mildly rather than
otherwise, if one looks back over Mexican history. A
few hundreds killed and wounded, a very few thousands
of dollars damage done to property in town, and the
great and long and glorious Diaz regime is a thing of the
past. Mexico is to tread untrodden paths.
Robles Dominguez, who is Madero's representative
here, has been dashing about the streets on a big black
horse accompanied by his foUowers, all wearing the
national colors on their hats, promising in the name of
Madero everything on earth to the people gathered at
the various points where he speaks. In many places
the tramcars leading to the different suburbs were taken
possession of by the mob, who rode free, to carry the
good news "from Ghent to Aix." The cars everywhere
were simply plastered with them.
Sefior de la Barra was sworn in as President of the
republic in the afternoon. No anti-American riots,
which were at one time feared, though the ambassador
and his staff had the pleasant experience of being
hissed as they went to the Camara for the ceremony.
From the little balcony of the drawing-room I could
see De la Barra quite plainly as he came down the Paseo,
37

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
bowing on all sides, grave, but amiable and dignified,
in the presidential coach, and across his breast the green-
and-white-and-red sash of his high office.
GHttering, blue-uniformed outriders with polished sil
ver helmets preceded him, and the crowd was rending
the air with ' ' Viva De la Barra!" I saw De la Barra with
my physical eye, but I was thinking of the great old
Indian, the maker and molder of Mexico, who was
wont to go down the broad avenue in that same coach
to the sound of vivas, and wondering would they see
his like again. I am sending you a post-card photograph
of Maximilian in uniform, and Carlota in a blue dress
with many pearls, which is not reaUy so beside the
point. Diaz helped to close that epoch. We now wit
ness the closing of the Diaz epoch.1
'I had three glimpses of the "King in Exile." First in Rome, the
Easter Sunday of 1913, after the Madero tragedy. As I went across the
Piazza Barberini I saw flying from the middle window of the piano
nobile of the Hotel Bristol, the Mexican colors, floating there by what
strange chance, the eagle holding in its claws the antique serpent against
the green, white, and red. As I went up the stairway there were num
berless and unmistakable Mexicans on the landings, and several priests
were waiting in the antechamber.
Dona Carmen came in almost immediately with the "grand air" I
had heard about, handsome and composed, a veritable queen in exile.
She was dressed with extreme elegance and simplicity, in a perfectly
plain, dark-blue gown; around her throat was a pearl necklace. After
the greetings she seated me on the gaudy, gold-and-blue sofa, and took
her place beside me. Once or twice her eyes filled as we spoke of Mexico,
but mostly there was a remote look in them.
When Don Porfirio entered the room I knew him for a leader of men.
Anno Domini had weakened his will, perhaps, but had not bowed his
proud figure nor dulled the piercing look in his eye, which I remember
as hazel with a very large, light iris, the pupil dark and fiery. We could
not but speak of the Madero tragedy, Don Porfirio talking in Spanish,
I in French. I found myself slightly trembling. He repeated several
times, "I foresaw it all — my method was the only one," and once he
added, "How shall one judge men other than by results?" I saw in his
eye that same remoteness which I think an observer would have found
in mine also; for instead of the gaudy hotel room I saw Chapultepeo
38

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
May 27th.
Though the mob turned into the tamest thing possible
in mobs, and the revolution into the tamest thing pos
sible in revolutions, I keep thinking how both did their
work and how never again will Diaz drive up the beautiful
Paseo, receiving the plaudits of the people. The town
is busy preparing for the reception of Madero and for the
elections. General Reyes is still feared by the new
party. Madero said to one of our newspaper corre
spondents the other day that the only unfavorable thing
in the Cabinet was the admission of General Reyes as
high up, swung in a strange transparency and Don Porfirio's destiny
blocked out against it.
In Paris, that same summer of 1913, at the Hotel Astoria, I witnessed
another etape of the painful, unfit Odyssey from hotel to hotel. The
antechamber was filled with their luggage, plastered with endless hotel
tabs. Don Porfirio's mien was not quite so majestic, his heart was
more broken, his hope less, his years seemed heavier, and they were un
certain where next to turn their steps, to San Sebastian or to some "cure"
in Switzerland.
On my way back to Mexico on the Espagne, September, 1913, I
was sitting idly watching the Spanish shores off Santander. There were
some Syrians on board suspected of quien sabe what disease, and we
were not allowed to go ashore to visit the old town. About four o'clock
a small launch was seen approaching. In it were Don Porfirio and Dona
Carmen and Don Porfirio's daughter, Dona Amada (Madame de la Torre),
whom they were bringing to the Ship, which was crowded with returning
Mexicans, anticipating the pacification of the country by Huerta. At
the news that the "grand old man" was in the launch there was a rush
for the railing. Don Porfirio could not come on board on account of the
quarantine. It was a tragic moment when he took his daughter in his
arms, and many eyes filled with tears as she tore herself from him and
came hurriedly up the gangway. Farewells were waved as the launch
turned toward the land. Don Porfirio, upright, majestic, motionless,
had his eyes fixed on the ship with its prow toward Mexico. Who would,
if he could, have searched his heart or said of what he was. thinking, the
old, the illustrious, the once powerful, in ' ' the fell clutch of circumstance' ' ?
As long as I live his figure will be to me the sign and symbol of nostal
gia, as he stood in the small launch, his head bared under the brilliant
sky, the bright spot of his red necktie accenting the whiteness of his
hair, watching with longing eyes the ship turned toward the land which
had given him birth, and which he in return had made great and honor
able among nations.
39

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Minister of War, and that the members of the Cabinet
and governors of states would be selected later by him
self and De la Barra. It looks as if in the apportioning
out of the plums the first seeds of discord will be sown
in the new political garden.
Yesterday we went motoring with Mr. S. and Dear-
ing over the great, beautiful hills to the west. Some
thing like Italy and yet not at aU like it in the feeling
of light and color. For the first time I looked down on
the city from a great height, seemingly on a level with
the hiUs that hold the cup-like valley, and I saw again
in all their beauty the two shining volcanoes flanked
by the matchless hills. There was an immense exhilara
tion in the fitting of the mind to such a remote and
gorgeous horizon, and suddenly I found it did not matter
if it were peopled or not ; it seemed quite complete, even
humanly. There was a wonderful lightness about the
air. Little puffs that one could not caU wind came and
brushed our faces with a brilliant yet feathery feehng.
The Ajusco hills with their suggestions of brigands (I
have not been thinking much of brigands since the
tales of Raisuli and Perducaris and Miss Annie Stone)
gave a "human" touch to the whole.
In going out of the city we passed through Tacubaya,
a very attractive suburb with handsome houses hidden
in great gardens, and an old palace of some archbishop;
but the most interesting thing about it was the Indian
market, spread out on the steep, cobblestoned high
way. There was just enough room for the motor to
pass between the mats on which were spread their
wares. Great piles of pottery, bright rolls of cotton,
were laid on squares of cloth, or little mats made of
rushes, and there were infinitesimal groupings of eat
ables of various kinds, little piles of five nuts, or three
oranges, or little heaps of melon-seed, or beans.
40

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Indians, picturesque beyond description, were bend
ing, selling, buying, just as they have done since pre
historic days. It was the brightest bit of color I have
ever seen, with the thread of Indian life that it was
strung on. The Indians compose themselves into beau
tiful pictures everywhere, and further on the road was
full of pottery-makers, bent beneath their huge loads,
basket-makers, sandal-makers, women and children
equally laden, going with their quick Aztec trot to their
journey's end.
All was quiet in the little villages through which we
passed. I wonder if they know something has hap
pened to their Mexico? May 2gth.
In the revolutionary lull we have all been vaccinated,
and I have been looking into the drinking-water ques
tion quite exhaustively.
I felt rather discouraged when the doctor suggested
boiling even the mineral water, Tehuacan, from a place
near Orizaba. In general the microbe question keeps
foreigners busy, and more alarmed if they have children
than the sound of artiUery. One has to learn to live
here. The food leaves much to be desired, and if we
were delicate or gourmets, there would be a great deal
of difficulty ahead.
Friday Mr. and Mrs. Wilson and the Embassy staff
come for dinner, the first time I wiU have had any one
except those dropping in informally. I don't know how
it will turn out. There is a nice American range in the
kitchen, but the cook, it seems, prefers the classic brasero,
and a turkey wing to fan the coals. It is not as primitive
as it sounds, however, for the brasero is a t led affair
and has holes on the top for saucepans. They say the
American stove would make even the saints too hot.
4i

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
How they produce the nice roasts or bake with the
thing is a mystery to me.
However, the whole cooking business is beyond me,
though I have put an embargo on rinones (kidneys).
Every time there is a halt in remarks about the menu,
Teresa suggests rinones, which I despise with my whole
soul. I am not enthused by organs, anyway, as food.
I would put an embargo on cabrito (kid), but stewed it's
objectively one of the best dishes she prepares, and I
would eat it under another name. A certain sopa de
frijoles would be nice anywhere, and with slices of lemon
and hard-boiled egg in it is really delicious, and recaUs
vaguely the thick mock-turtle soup of my native land.
There is a "near" apricot, caUed chabacano, ripe at this
season, but it's only "near," and there are quantities
of smaU, fragrant strawberries.
At Hye de Glunek's I ate, for the first time, the very
fine mango, in its perfection. The eating recalls stories
of the original fountain-pen and the bath-tub, but the
fruit is delicious, even the first time you eat it, with a
slightly turpentiny, very clean taste, and cascades of
juice. There is a way of sticking a single-pronged fork
into one end, while you peel it with a knife, and then
proceeding, which makes its consumption possible in
public. To-day we lunched with the British charge in his
temporary quarters, as the new Legation, which is going
to be a delightful dwelling, built with some regard for
latitude and longitude and altitude, is not yet ready
for occupation. Hohler came to Mexico from Con
stantinople, and wherever he goes collects works of
art. In his apartment were all sorts of quite beautiful,
Oriental bric-a-brac and hangings, which, somehow, did
not seem as Oriental here as they would in other places.
Simon, the newly arrived French Inspecteur des Finances
42

Photograph by Ravell

MEXICAN WOMEN SELLING TORTILLAS

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of the Banco Nacional, with a briUiant Balkan record
behind him, was also there with his wife. They are
"enjoying" the H6tel de Geneve, while awaiting the
arrival of their Lares and Penates, staUed somewhere
between Vera Cruz and Mexico City, and Madam S.'s
maid is already down with typhoid fever.
Yesterday, when N. boarded the tram, a smartly
dressed, handsome Frenchwoman had just got on with
neither Mexican money nor vocabulary. He came to
her assistance, and they felt quite like long-separated
friends on discovering "who was who" at the luncheon.
In the center of the table was a lovely silver bowl of old
Mexican artisanship, filled with unfamiliar, theatrical-
looking fruits. I compromised on a granadita, which is
like a pomegranate in color and taste, but small and
oblong in shape. Of course the "old hands" were try
ing to enfighten the new-comers, but it was rather the
blind leading the blind. Nobody can tell what the
gigantic political changes wiU lead to, or what this new
wine of fraternity and equality, fermenting in the oldest
of bottles, will do to their heads. A gentle joke as we
got up from the table, about the pictures in last week's
Semana Ilustrada (showing insurrectos burning bridges),
to the effect that the national sport might soon prove
to be la promenade, if artless, was more to the point.
There is a good deal of talk here about something
caUed the "Plan de San Luis Potosi," apparently the
building stones of a new Mexico. It's the manifesto
Madero made at that town in the early stages of his
revolution, a rather personal and arbitrary political
document, in which he declares himself the mouthpiece
of the nation's will, and pronounces the last election of
Don Porfirio illegal. It was, as far as I can see — which
is not, of course, very far — Hke all his other "elections."
Madero finished by saying that the republic being with-
43

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
out a legitimate government, he assumes the provisional
presidency. It's so simple it may succeed, and the Diaz
government left a comfortable sum in the treasury to
begin operations with, some sixty-five millions. May 31st.
The "official" family dinner went off all right, so I
am having the ambassador and Mrs. Wilson, Von
Hintze, Hye, the Austrian charge, and De Vaux to dinner
on Sunday — eight in all. This is the Hmit, not of the
table and the dining-room, but possibly of the hand
maidens. Leclerq, who is departing for Brussels and the
Foreign Office, has given me the use, till I have made
other arrangements, of his table-silver. I do, indeed,
sigh for the silver and linen in Vienna.
Madame de la Barra receives the Corps Diplomatique
on Saturday afternoon. It will be her inaugural reception
as first lady in the land, and, indeed, the first complete
tableau of the chers collegues that I will have seen since
our arrival. I suppose I will get a glimpse, at least,
of some of the up-to-now invisible Mexican statesmen.
Life goes on here quietly, as far as I am personally
concerned, but underneath it all there is the unmistak
able beat and throb of changing governments, the
passing of the old order, the beginning of the new, with
all its potentialities. It is a many-colored background.
I am sending an illustrated paper of the shooting done
by the mob in my street, La Semana Ilustrada, which is
printed at the other end of Calle Humboldt, as is also
La Prensa, a newspaper belonging to Francisco Bulnes,
the cleverest of the publicists here, and a star among
the intellectuals. I am between the making of history
and its annals.
The Courrier du Mexique and the Mexican Herald I
read daily. The Courrier du Mexique et de I'Europe
44

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
(Ancien Trait d' Union) was founded in 1849, and has
survived many vicissitudes and many governments. Its
files would make strange reading, with their succession of
political hails and farewells — or rather farewells and hails.
Gabrielle is doing very well, though she is suffering
from Heimweh for Vienna. The Austrian charge sends
me accumulations of the Neue Freie Presse to sweeten
what she calls "diese Mexico." The Indian maids are
almost too good to be true. There's a dusting and a
sweeping going on that would satisfy a better housewife
than myself.
I am quite in love with my street — it has so much for
the eye, so much to intrigue the imagination. As I told
you, just opposite is the Finance Ministry. Endless
motors belonging to the old and new regime and the
intermediate, the Trait d' Union regime, fraternize in front
of it. Diagonally across is the home of Diaz's son,
Porfirio, who seems to have neither the talents nor the
ambitions of his father. The house is a very Mexican-
looking affair, though not after the good old models.
It is a reddish pink, with superfluous cupolas and bay
windows, all lined with pale blue. Great vines of the
magenta-colored Bougainvillea, "the glory of Mexico,"
hanging everywhere, further enliven it. The tiny tri
angular garden also has various obstreperous and violent-
colored botanical specimens.
A little farther down the street, however, is the real
gem, for there I perceived, in passing, storied Spanish-
American life being enacted. It's a low one-storied
house with heavily grated windows, only a couple of
feet up from the street. Behind that grating I actually
saw a pink-robed senorita sitting, with a flower in her
hair and a letter, which I knew must have been a love
letter, in her hand, all just as it ought to be, as far as
local color is concerned. 45

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The other night, hearing the sound of music, I stepped
out on the balcony. Behold! there were the outlines of
some kind of Romeo playing the mandolin, in front of
that window. It's so complete, so ridiculously like what
it ought to be, you will think I have added something,
but you don't have to add anything here; it's always aU
there. That end of the street is where the offices of
La Prensa and of La Semana Ilustrada are, and the
Httle newsboys (papeleros) bring things quite up to date
when they dash past crying out new editions.
The other end of the street, which is short, gives
on the Plaza de la Reforma, where the new, handsome
Foreign Office is, and the beautiful equestrian statue of
Charles the Fourth of Spain, which Humboldt said
could only be compared to that of Marcus Aurefius on
the Campidoglio. There are two or three handsome
houses belonging to Mexicans between me and the Plaza.
The Suinagas', whose daughter is married to a French
diplomat, and the Saldivars', next the Finance Ministry,
are other houses in the good old style of several genera
tions ago. In former days the streets were familiarly
spoken of as calles de Dios (streets of God) ; pious, pict
uresque, but probably not resembling those of our
eternal abiding-place!

NELSON O SHAUGHNESSY
(Secretary of the American Embassy,
Mexico, 1911-1912)

PAUL LEFAIVRE
(French Minister to Mexico, 191 1)

FRANCISCO LEON DE LA BARRA
(President ad interim of the Mexican
Republic between Diaz and Madero)

IV
First reception at Chapultepec Castle — First bull-fight — A typical Mexi
can earthquake — Madero's triumphal march through Mexico City —
Three days of adoration June 4th.
YESTERDAY we went to the De la Barras' first
reception, a tea neither formal nor informal, at
beautiful Chapultepec, lifted high up on the historic
hiU overlooking the city and the beauteous vaUey, in
its gorgeous setting of mountains and volcanoes.
There is a pretty grotto-like modern entrance at the
foot of the hiU which takes visitors to the elevator, a
shaft pierced in the rock, and from the darkness one
steps suddenly on to the enchantment of the terraces
with their matchless view. There is a winding road
which takes longer, ending at the great iron gateway of
the military school, and one must cross the broad terrace,
where the cadets are walking about or drilling.
Madame de la Barra, herself a widow, the sister of the
President's first wife, has only been married a few
months, and is smiling, fair, and un-Mexican-looking, of
Swiss descent. She was daintily dressed in some sort
of beige chiffon with pearls about her neck, and had
easy, pleasant manners.
There was no chance for conversation. The whole
Diaz set, with very few exceptions, has vanished, not
into thin air, but into retirement or Europe, and society
will have to be reorganized from new elements. These
new elements did not seem at first view to be very
47

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
malleable. A circle of iron, in the shape of ladies — old,
middle-aged, and young — kept formed about Madame
de la B., and I was wedged in, for quite a while, between
a granddaughter of Juarez wearing, among other things,
a huge and, it appears, historic emerald pendant, and a
young, inquiring-looking woman. I mean inquiring for
these climes, where external phenomena only remotely
give rise to speculation. She was in a decollete mauve
passementerie-trimmed gown, with a train — what we
would caU an evening dress. The experienced foreign
diplomats mostly kept outside the circle.
Mr. de la B. was moving about the beautiful flower-
planted terraces, smiling, suave, homme du monde, as
well as President of Mexico, but the skein from which
he is to knit the national destinies is somewhat tangled.
He and Mr. Wilson were colleagues in Brussels. Now
the turn of the wheel has made him President, and Mr.
Wilson ambassador.
Some of the well-seasoned foreigners were predicting
immediate difficulties in the disbanding of the revolu
tionary forces, which seem to be composed of those who
don't want to be disbanded, those who want to be dis
banded immediately, and those who want to be bandits.
I must say I found it all very interesting — a little gem
of a picture of life in Mexico. As a sudden darkness rose
up from the valley, rather than feU from the sky, one of
the volcanoes gone suddenly blue, the other stiU aflame,
the gathering melted away. June 6th.
Yesterday, Pentecost Sunday, I went to Mass in the
cathedral where Maximilian and Carlota were crowned,
and Iturbide and his consort. It is a large, ornate
structure, though the lowish roof, earthquake height,
I suppose, takes away from the effect of the interior.
Three huge altars and a choir also combine to spoil the
48

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
perspective, but it is imposing and the outside is a lovely
grayish pink. It is built on the site of the great Aztec
temple, over countless images and remains of the
teocali (temple), which the conquerors demolished as
soon as they got their breath, after the taking of the
city. I found it full of a multicolored crowd. The Indians
were most in evidence, but there were all sorts and con
ditions of people. Despite what is said to the contrary,
the Church has an enormous influence on life here— on
institutions, habits, and customs. The convents, monas
teries, and seminaries were suppressed in 1859, and no
one since has been allowed to leave money or property
to the Church by will, but here as elsewhere there is no
way to prevent the Church from getting rich. With a
constantly renewing collection of individuals having no
personal wants, concerned largely with the promises of
another life, the aggregate of their activities through the
ages wiU always be enormous in the way of mathe
matical progression; and I don't see in a free world why
they haven't as much right to spend their money and
energies that way as in the usual spending for personal
and mundane aims.
In the afternoon we went to the buU-fight ; it was De
la Barra's first appearance at one as President of the
republic, and a great occasion. The vast crowd was
very enthusiastic. We saw every color of garment,
every shade of face, every shape of hat, under the blue,
blue sky. We de la haute, or, for that matter, anybody
who can pay the price, sit in the shady side of the ring.
The sunny half is occupied by dazzled, smiling Indians.
The President was greeted by the magnificently played
national air, and the stirring of the great concourse as it
rose, and the vivas, had a something impressive. A
moment or two after, the entrada took place.
49

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Some beloved matador, whose name I don't know, was
greeted with cheers that rivaled those offered to the
President. He had on a gorgeous blue-and-gold cloak,
resting on one shoulder, the body of the cloak caught
up and held with the left hand on the left hip, leaving
the right arm free. He was followed by other less-
resplendent individuals (the men of his cuadrilla), and
soon the ball really opened by the dashing out of the
door of a splendid dark bull.
I hid my eyes at the goring of the horses, poor old
Rosinantes that they were, ready for the grave, and
other high-lights of the occasion. The President gave
many purses. It was a very expensive afternoon, doubt
less, but it will increase his political popularity. The
gaily-dressed toreros would go up to the box after their
special "coups," and, with uncovered heads, hold out
their hats, and he would lean forward and present the
purses. At one time the arena was covered by hats of
all sizes and descriptions thrown by enthusiasts, and
returned to them by the various bull-fighters. As you
will suspect, however, "buH-fight me no buU-fights." It
isn't one of those things that it wiH please me some day
to have done, according to the Latin poet. I would Hke
to sponge it out of memory.
The dinner here this evening was not a success. Per
haps the scent of the buU-fight hung around me still or
perhaps the personal elements did not combine chemi
cally. The dinner itself was all right. There is a
delicious, fat-breasted quail (codorniz) to be had at this
season. The conversation was of prophecies concerning
the 7th, when Madero, the "Messiah," the "Bridegroom
of Mexico," whom he is to lead into paths of peace and
plenty, is to enter the city. I kept quoting":
"One man, with a dream at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown."
5°

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
June 7th.
This morning, at 4.30, the town was shaken by a
tremendous earthquake. I was awakened by the violent
swaying of the house, so violent that as I jumped up I
could not keep on my feet. There was a sound as of a
great wind at sea, and on aU sides the breaking of china
and the falling of pictures. Elim, who was fortunately
sleeping in my room, awakened and clung to me, asking,
' ' What is the matter with the ship ? " N. was calling from
his room and trying to open the door.
My first thought was that we were in some dreadful,
mysterious storm, not of earthquake. When things had
quieted down a little, and I could get to the window, I
looked out. The streets were full of people in their
night garments, in the most complete demoralization,
some on their knees, others under the lintels of the
doors. There was a groaning and a calling on God,
accompanied by a still very sensible movement of the
roof-line. Servants finally appeared, white and terror-
stricken, with long, black hair floating down their backs
and their shoulders, hunched up under their rebozos.
I was sorry for the damage done to the S.s' nice
things — by shipwreck and earthquake. Our house is
a good old house, strongly built in a firm quadrangle;
yet the shape of my room at one moment was not
square, but diamond-shaped !
Later.
I have just come back from a look about town. I saw
the wrecked barracks in the Puente de Alvarado. Sixty
soldiers were buried under the debris, and the ambu-
lanciers were bringing out the silent, plaster-covered
forms as we passed. A big warehouse at one of the
railways was completely wrecked, but there was no loss
of life as the employees, of course, were not there at that
hour. Everywhere were great ruts and spHts in the
5 Si

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
streets, which looked, in places, as if they had been
plowed up.
We took a turn through the Avenida San Francisco,
gaily flagged like all the streets through which Madero
is to pass. All Mexico seemed afield, despite the fact
that we may have another "quake" at any moment.
At the corner of the historic Church of La Prof esa great
crowds were gathered, looking up at the ancient dome
and nave, rent in several places. Police were standing
in front of the carved doors, in the Calle de Motolinia,
to prevent the foolish, as well as the pious, from entering.
It is very much out of plumb, anyway, having suffered
from other earthquakes in other centuries, when, I sup
pose, the same sort of crowd gathered about it.
Everybody had a sickly, surprised, pale look, and
many, it appears, suffer acute nervous attacks after
such an experience. It is the biggest earthquake they
have had here in several generations. Mexico City
being built on boggy, spongy land is what alone has
preserved it from complete destruction on various
occasions. Some speak of Madero's being heralded in by this
convulsion of nature as a bad augury : others see in it a
sign from heaven. I say, qui vivra, verra.
Madero was supposed to reach Mexico City at ten
o'clock, and begin his triumphal march from the station
through the great thoroughfares, down the Paseo, the
Avenida Juarez, the Avenida San Francisco, to the
palace; but it is now 2 p.m. and he has not yet
come. As the day wears on the earthquake begins to
be interpreted solely as a manifestation of Divine Provi
dence in his favor. No soldiery out. This, I am told,
is to show the mob that they are trusted by their cham
pion and savior. It strikes me as a bit too trusting;
if any excitement does arise among the mob, already
52

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
unsteadied by the earthquake shock, how will these
people be controlled ?
Evening.
At three o'clock Madero passed down the Paseo. Our
enthusiasm had somewhat abated after the long wait,
but we stood up in a motor in front of our door, and
could see the immense concourse acclaiming him. There
was a great noise of vivas, mingling with shouts of all
kinds, tramping of feet, and blowing of motor horns.
I could just get a glimpse of a pale, dark-bearded man
bowing to the right and left. I kept repeating to myself :
"Qui l'a fait roif qui l'a couronnif — la victoire."
It appears that his departure from his ancestral home
in Parras, and the journey down, have been one of the
most remarkable personal experiences in all history.
There were three days of continual plaudits and adora
tion, such as only the Roman emperors knew (or perhaps
Roosevelt when he went through Europe).
People came from far and near, in all sorts of con
veyances or on foot, just to see him, to hear his voice,
even to touch his garments for help and healing. It
appears he had a wonderful old grandfather, Evaristo,
founder of what promises to be a dynasty, who died just
before we came to Mexico, and who, it is said, had mis
givings about the strange turn of the family fortunes.
WeU, it is a curious experience to see a people at the
moment of what they are convinced is their salvation,
to see the man they hail as "Messiah" enter their
Jerusalem. I can think of no lesser simile. The only
thing they didn't shout was "Hosanna." The roofs
were black with people along his route. Many threw
flowers and green branches as he passed. As for the
equestrian statue of Charles IV., in the Plaza, it was
alive with people, who clung all over it, climbing to the
top, sitting on Charles's head, hanging to his horse's tail.
S3

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Madero could make no speech on his arrival here —
loss of voice and sick headache, I see by the evening
newspaper. The journey and this climax of his entry
into the capital doubtlessly overwhelmed his mortafity.
The crowd, however, was too intent upon its own expe
riences to feel any lack. The ' ' redeemer ' ' was with them
and his mere presence seems to have been sufficient. June 8th.
It is after dinner; N. has gone back to the chancery.
All doors and windows are open, and a cool, thin, dry
night breeze, most lovely, is blowing in.
I sent a Mexican Herald about the temblor and the
entry of Madero. The streets are not yet quiet, though
the vivas for Madero have somewhat died down.
Even that crowd had its physical limits. I can't
understand why, when the streets are burst open, great
rifts everywhere, especially in the neighborhood of the
Embassy, that there not a vase or a photograph was
upset, though some heavy bookcases filled with books,
in the basement, were thrown to the ground.
I am reading The Relations of Bernal Diaz, companion
and chronicler of the Cortes expedition. It is quite the
most romantic, realistic bit of Hterature I ever got hold
of, and has, here on the spot, a double-distilled charm.
I was interrupted for a day by the arrival of that other
conqueror. June gth.
Knowing how anxious you would be, I cabled on the
7 th; now comes your cable asking for news and an
announcement from the cable office here that my cable
has been returned. It appears the employee just omitted
Zurich; the address, Waldhaus, he explained in the note,
he thought would be enough — the effect of the earth
quake on his brain, I suppose. 54

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
It appears the New York newspapers said Mexico
City was nearly destroyed. You must have been on
the qui vive for two days. If the earthquake had been
up to the newspaper account, you would doubtless not
have heard.
People holding property here are not worrying about
natural phenomena. The ever-increasing banditry all
over the country, murders of people on isolated haciendas,
and general dislocation of business and lawlessness are
what worry them. A swift sliding down into the old
pre-Diaz brigandage is feared. The slopes are so
attractive to the dissatisfied and uncontrolled. Facilis
est descensus.
Madero has publicly announced that he will encourage
American investments, but that he will oppose all trusts
and unjust concessions. It sounds almost too reason
able to be true. He made these statements from some
place in the north when he promised to liberate aU
political prisoners and all prisoners of war. This revolu
tion in Mexico has been full of contrasts, to say the least.
Has any one ever seen such an anomaly as we witnessed
here? The heads of a solid, recognized government
turning over their offices to a relatively few armed
opponents. I put it aU on Anno Domini, not because
so-called democratic principles have suddenly won a
miraculous victory. The old dictator's hand was weak
ened by the stronger hand of time — and a "man with a
dream at pleasure," etc.
Found your letter of May 26th on returning from a
motor drive with Dealing and Mr. S. to a beautiful old
town, Texcoco, where Nezahualcoyotl, the Marcus
Aurelius of Mexico, Hved.
Except the ancient sun-dial in the palm-planted Plaza,
however, there is little to recall that civilization. A big
church, built by the friars on the spot of the old temple,
55

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
was fiUed with the usual Indian population, sitting and
kneeling with their children and their burdens, and as
mysterious as that Cortes found worshiping Huitzilo-
pochtli, or any of their other gods. The Indians are
religious, rather in the Oriental sense, it seems to me,
than in any way resembling ours. It is certainly not
given to the lower-class Anglo-Saxon to kneel with
intent, uplifted eyes, outstretched arms, motionless,
before some reminder of an invisible God. It does not
take us that way. It seems to be as much a part of the
Indian's life, that going in and out of churches, as eating
or drinking, and just as essential, and why that habit,
which seems to compensate for so many things obviously
lacking, should be a reproach to those who instilled it
I can't see. It's all most interesting to me, fresh from
Prescott and Bernal Diaz. A crumbling, picturesque
monastery and inconceivably desolate, dusty seminary
join the church where the friars used to teach. Oh, the
poor friars! There is so Httle account taken of their
ceaseless activities, of how they found a wilderness, dot
ted it with churches, schools, and hospitals, stamped it
with a seal of matchless beauty, brought it out of the
worship of greedy gods, human sacrifices, and abom
inations, counting no cost, and showed as best they
might dim shapes of more benign powers. I can't see
what aU the hue and cry is about, all the revifings. We
couldn't match the record. We have disfigured Mex
ico wherever we have set our seal. Frankly, I'm for
the friars.
One enters Texcoco by a broad, broken street leading
into the Plaza. Interspersed too HberaUy between the
once handsome low dweUings are the pink-and-blue
pulque-shops, with their fringes of colored tissue-paper.
The names of these depositories of the licor divino are
often curiously bound up with the history of Mexico,
56

Photograph by Ravell

A ROAD-SIDE SHRINE

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and make you feel you have got hold of the "real thing."
La Hija del Emperador1 and La Reina Xochitl, a beau
teous patrician, married to a Toltec king, go back to
prehistoric days. El Gran Napoleon, with cocked hat
and hand in his breast, painted almost life-size on a cor
ner shop, was more picturesque than the one that had a
hand in the making of their history. La Mujer del Moro
gives the Moorish touch, and La Estrella del Mar recalls
the buccaneers as weU as the ages of faith. There was
a very good one near the little viceregal bridge, with
its battered coat of arms, just before we got into Texcoco,
called Las Bergantinas, in memory of the spot where
Cortes launched his brigantines in his attempt to take
Mexico City, which then was only reached from Tex
coco by water. I feel on quite intimate terms with the
conqueror. It is Cortes here, and Cortes there, and
Cortes everywhere. He put his seal on the whole
country, and one walks quite intimately and enthusias
tically with him. He was such a human sort of person,
and with all his adventurous spirit very grand seigneur.
Bernal Diaz teUs how well and smartly he dressed, being
very particular about his linen, under dark, rich gar
ments, and inclining to a fine gem somewhere on his per
son, and how pleasantly he played cards, with little
jokes running through it all. It reminds me of bridge
evenings with the chers collogues. But all is historic on
this lovely plateau. They can pull down everything and
wash it in the most modern of blood, and the scent of
ancient and adventurous deeds will hang round it still.
The valley was swimming in a sort of gauzy luminosity,
not just light; the volcanoes, well washed yesterday after
noon, were at their most beautiful. We could not bear
•"The Daughter of the Emperor," "Queen Xochitl," "The Great
Napoleon," "The Wife of the Moor," "The Star of the Sea," "The
Brigantines." 57

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
to turn homeward and went out through the old town,
which had also enjoyed a viceregal popularity, as fine
old doors and glimpses of vistas into large courtyards
showed. These patios of Mexico are most attractive. One is
forever peeking in through doorways of strange houses,
where flowers, children, washing, mattresses, water-jars,
dogs, sometimes a palm or a cypress, contrive to make
something always alluring and mostly lovely. We
lunched late in the auto, under the shade of some
eucalyptus-trees, and then pressed on through the
lovely hiUs and over meadow-bounded roads tiU we
got to the little village of Magdalena, where an inde
scribable melancholy mingled with the slanting bronze
afternoon light filtering through the shade of the old
trees. A grassy Plaza, planted with cypresses and pat
terned with sunken escutcheoned grave-slabs, led to the
pinkish-gray church with its lovely old Spanish doors.
A crumbling, broadly scaHoped pink wall, with flowers,
vines, and spiky green things clinging to it everywhere,
surrounded the whole. The warm, lustrous air fell
about us like a lovely garment. It was a place of
enchantment, where we seemed to clasp hands, for a
moment, with a past age of exceeding beauty. June nth.
Now that the political excitements have calmed down,
the dinners have begun again. The Italian Legation on
Tuesday, the Japanese on Thursday (Madame Hori-
gutchi is a Belgian), the Belgian minister the next day,
and there is a dinner at the Embassy on Saturday. On
the 2 2d the British charge gives a coronation house-
warming in the new Legation, which is not yet finished
enough for him to really move into.
Yesterday was again Mr. Wilson's day, and very
58

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
pleasant. The handsome rooms were filled with roses
in their last blooming. The rains wash them out at this
season, and indeed at any season they must be plucked
at sunrise or they quickly fade at this altitude. The
buffet was lavishly spread, Mrs. Wilson dedicated a
becoming blue dress, just arrived from Brussels, and I
had on what the Mexican Herald kindly called this
morning an "exquisite creation of painted chiffon."
The first visitor was Madame de la Barra, with her
sweet manner and amiable, unstudied expression, also
freshly and Frenchily garbed. I think she would like to
branch out and do some entertaining during their short
and uncertain tenure. The great castle, with its ravishing
terraces, its large spaces, calls for functions. Mrs. Bed
ford made affectionate inquiries for you. Many of the
colleagues came, and many Americans. There was a
pleasant coming and going all the afternoon. Mr. James
Brown Potter and Mr. Butler, who lives with him, came
in late, further enlivening things, as seems to be their
wont, and last the ambassador and N., just in from
Saturday golf, which, at this season, politically and from
the point of view of weather, is a more than usuaUy
uncertain game.
The murder of three hundred and three Chinamen at
Torreon has made a great row. We were surprised and
faintly amused to learn that China demands an indem
nity of one miUion from Mexico. Has Chinese life ever
been so high? The whole thing was a horror, however.
Terrible atrocities were committed by the troops under
Emilio Madero. The Chinamen were mostly market-
gardeners peacefully cultivating vegetables in gardens
back of their little houses, through which they were
hunted and shot down like so many rabbits. There are
other horrors related of tying them to horses headed in
different directions, of babies on bayonets, etc. It is a
59

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
most regrettable little fling on the part of the "Liberat
ing" Army. Madero, very averse to shedding blood,
is said to be horrified at the occurrence.
It makes me sad to think that, after a century of
blood, all is still before the Mexican people, who have
left the seemingly solid land of the dictatorship and are
headed straight for the mirage of an impossible equaHty.
June 14th.
Last night was the big dinner at the Italian Legation.
Countess Massiglia is an American. I sat between Von
Hintze, whom I like very much, and Mr. Brown, presi
dent of the National Railway. Dear Mrs. Harriman
sent us a letter to him, saying we might need "sudden
transportation." Mr. B. is a power here, one of the twentieth-century
conquerors and civilizers. Brains, energy, courage, have
taken him far along his successful career, and, inci
dentally, helped to cover Mexico with railways. It was
most interesting hearing at first hand how the curtain
had been rung down on the Diaz epoch, for it was he
who had arranged for, and been witness to, the tragic
departure of Don Porfirio, in those dim, early hours of
the 26th. A military train, in charge of some trusted
general (Huerta), followed, escorting the illustrious
chief from the earthly heights of destiny, in every sense
of the word, down the declines of sorrow and old age,
out to the great sea.

V
Dinner at the Japanese Legation — The real history of the Japanese in
Mexico — Dinner at the Embassy — Coronation services for England's
king — The rainy season sets in. June 16th.
LAST night dinner at the Japanese Legation. A very
•* elaborate and beautiful centerpiece arrangement
of tiny lake and grove decorated the table, and the food
was very good. That was the Belgian touch. They are
used to la bonne chere. All the dinners now are a sort of
hail and farewell for Von Hintze and ourselves newly
arrived, and the departing Romeros, who have been
here some time and are very popular.
There is always a lot of talk about the Japanese in
Mexico, but their real history here, as I have discovered,
is not disquieting. Some Japanese statesman (of course
I forget his name) first conceived the idea in 1897 of
starting coffee-plantations on a large scale in Chiapas.
The pioneers were called "colonists," and were followed
by "immigrants." All had bad luck with the enter
prise at first, but by economy and industry finally got
prosperous. As for Horigutchi himself, amiable and intelligent
and, of course, unusually intimate with the French
language, it is said he knows how the Emperor of
Korea died, pues quien sabef At any rate, he is peace
ful and smiling now, his Belgian wife is dressy and
hospitable, and he has an interesting little daughter.
The house is the usual compromise between good
61

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Japanese things and expensive European ones, always
painful to our esthetic sense, and doubtless to theirs as
well. Again I have waked up to this wondrous sun and these
open windows, and the shining, flower-planted patio.
Am having a little luncheon here. Von H. Stalewski,
the Russian minister, Martinez del Campo, third intro
ducer of ambassadors (he of the charming Engfish), and
the Simons and the French charge. A magnificent blue
Puebla bowl, such as were used in olden days for bap
tismal feasts, now very difficult to find, decorates the
center of the round table, filled with red and purple
sweet-peas — guisantes de olor they call them ; fifty cents
for the whole glory. All our cakes, ices, etc., are ordered
from the Cafe de l'Opera, kept by French people in the
Avenida Cinco de Mayo, where the Mexicans drop in
between five and eight for tea or chocolate or some sort
of consummation.
Von H. is finding himself out of his natural orbit here.
His eyes filled with tears when he said to me at dinner
at the Italian Legation the other night: "I miss my
friends." We were having a little exchange of senti
ments and illusions. I imagine he is un sensitif, and it is
a far cry from what we have had and known before. He
has the world manner, varied official experience, and an
unexplained personal equation.
There had been no diplomatic dinners for six months
here on account of the troubles, and when everybody
has had one things will settle down again. June 18th.
Your letter saying you were thinking of the Pente
costal fires on the Umbrian hills, has come. I forget all
pains, if pains there were, and am glad of that and aU
other experiences life has given us together.
62

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mrs. Wilson goes to the United States next week for
several months until her boys are settled in school and
college. I shall miss her very much. Besides being one
of the most admirable women I have known in public
Hfe, she is a pearl of a chef esse.
I have dwelt much on my easy, pleasant days here,
surrounded by new beauty and new interests, books,
companions — on this experience of an unknown land
with nothing of the "pace that kills," nothing of the
wearing "concurrence" of the great cities. In fact, I
am experiencing to the full, in Elliott's phrase, "the
comforts of the tropics."
Elim has been enticed into the tiniest and darlingest
of pajamas on the ground of being ready for the next
earthquake. For some reason or other he had clung
passionately to his Httle nighties. June 21st.
A defightful dinner at Mrs. Wilson's last night, every
thing bearing the special dainty touch of the embajadora.
The table was a mass of La France roses and violets, and
the pink-shaded silver candelabra emerged from light
clouds of pale-pink gauze. Large and deliciously pre
pared langoustes, very difficult to get here, formed the
pidce de resistance of the dinner, which was most lavish
throughout. On Mrs. Wilson's right was Rafael Hernandez, first
cousin of Madero, a very handsome man of about thirty-
five, with dark eyes and flashing white teeth and brilliant
coloring. Every now and then you come across some
one here with what we could call a "complexion," and
you never forget it.
I am interested in seeing the members of the coming
dynasty appear on the political stage. Hernandez, a
lawyer of repute, is now Minister of Justice. I sat
between Mr. Lie, the Norwegian minister, who is a son
63

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of the author, Jonas Lie, and we talked a bit of Scan
dinavian literature. I read only last winter his father's
great, sad book, Les Filles du Commandant. I had known
him slightly in Berlin, when he was military attache,
before what we used to call the "divorce" of Sweden
and Norway. Hohler was on my other side, and be
tween courses we did quite a tidy bit of confidential
journeying on the political chart. He is ready to crown
King George and Queen Mary to-morrow at the new
Legation. June 22d.
This morning we went to the coronation service for
the King of England and Emperor of India in the Eng
lish Church. The thought of the same prayers going
up everywhere for him on whose dominions the sun
never sets was solemn and imposing. The Te Deum,
preceded by the Litany beseeching the Lord to have
mercy on miserable sinners, alone kept it in the note
of mortality. The town is flagged, and, though we had
no king in person, we had the most royal weather.
Several hundred people were at the reception, all the
chers collegues, various members of the government, and
the British colony, of course, with a certain number of
curios, such as all colonies produce on national occa
sions. The Legation is not yet furnished, though the
chancery is in full blast, and Hohler has his study most
comfortably arranged with a lot of his own good things.
He has just found an old Spanish cabinet — a mass of
ivory, mother-of-pearl, and silver inlay — that makes you
wish you were a burglar.
At five o'clock President de la Barra, very smiling
and spick and span, arrived, accompanied by his staff.
He was welcomed by the national hymn played with
much spirit by an excellent orchestra. Others of the
government were Emilio Vasquez Gomez, Ministerio de
64

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
la Gobernaci6n (Interior), and Mr. and Mrs. Pimentel y
Fagoaga (Mr. P. is a banker and president of the city
council). Mr. Creel, former ambassador to Washington,
white-haired, pink-complexioned, un-Mexican-looking, I
also met.
Later General Reyes appeared, once, possibly still, the
idol of the army. You can never know here, for between
sunrise and sunset the victorious hero can become a
hunted fugitive. There is something about General
Reyes, with his upstanding mien, long, white beard,
shrewd eye and air of experience, which would not have
fitted badly into the presidential frame. I am told there
was a psychological moment when fate was ready for
him, but now it is too late; other forces have crystallized.
Everybody was making the rounds of the Legation,
which is going to be most attractive and convenient,
the only fly in the ointment being the garden. During
the building large quantities of lime and all sorts of un
productive refuse were left about, and Hohler thinks
he will have to change the whole soil. Up to now
nothing save the irrepressible but beautiful pink gera
nium has been willing to grow.
I was borne, with the French charge, on a steady tide,
setting through the long, unfurnished dining-room, to
a temporary grotto-like inclosure, the walls of which
were lined with palm-trees and hung with the Union
Jack, where the refreshments were served. I heard a
little joke going around with the punch among the some
what homesick colony, "Can you hear the crowns
settling on the brows of King George and Queen Mary?"
It mingled harmlessly with the congratulations and
hand-shaking and health-drinking of a very pleasant
and, one hopes, auspicious occasion. In London the
sun had long since set on the actors in a new page of
England's history. 6S

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
June 25th.
There is no doubt about the rainy season having set
in. Rain fell yesterday during three hours in drench
ing sheets that darkened the city. I could scarcely
see across the street ; but I had the lights turned on and
proceeded with Prescott's Conquest, not read since
years. I am entranced by his vivid, flowing style and
the wealth of reference and learning. The very initiated
have said that it is not all true, but if it isn't it ought
to be, it's so good. The copy I am reading was pub
lished by Galignani in Paris in 1844, and must be a
first edition, as his preface bears the date, "Boston,
October ist, 1843."
In a small section of the bookcase near my divan,
where I sit or rest or where the tea is brought — where
I always am, in fact— are the poets. I can reach out and
refresh myself with almost any of them. There is a
set in that old-fashioned blue-and-gold binding, such as
you used to have (1878 is its date), containing SheUey,
Keats, Byron, Tennyson, Longfellow, Whittier, Mrs.
Hemans, et al. But they are only a few of the denizens
of the "poets' corner." Palgrave's Golden Treasury is
the first book on the first shelf.
Peter and Paul's Day, June 2gth.
The saints' days follow quickly here. Also I find
that instead of indifferentism the churches are packed
with men, women, and children on aU occasions. Am
now waiting for Madame Chermont, the agreeable
American wife of the Brazilian secretary, and we drive
to Chapultepec Park with our children and listen to the
music. A fine military band plays by the largest of the
natural lakes, and it is the great morning rendezvous of
Mexico City. The two boys will disport on the grass
and incidentally have a few "good" fights plastered in
66

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
between the gentler occupations of catching butterflies
and picking flowers.
Evening.
I made calls all the afternoon, two violent thunder
storms enfivening the getting in and out. At Madame
Lie's an almost terrifying darkness feU, lasting for an
hour or so. The lights were turned on, but we all con
tinued to look Hke specters.with an unnatural, lusterless
saffron light filtering in at the windows, showing the
Indian butler coming and going quietly with the tea
things, and fighting up delicate sprays of yellow-brown
orchids from the Hot Country on the table in some
Scandinavian silver vases. At six o'clock, as I came
home, the volcanoes appeared like heaps of purest gold
piled against the blackest of clouds.
San Pedro y Pablo seems to be celebrated here by the
giving of toy pisto s, and other noisy weapons, to chil
dren. There was more or less "popping" going on all
the morning. For some reason there is a legend to the
effect that the devil roams abroad on this day seeking
whom he may devour.
I thought of San Paolo Fuori le Muri and the cele
brations in the great Basilica, and the Roman world
on its way out of the Porta San Paolo past the pyramid
of Caius Cestus and the grave of Keats. June 30th.
Your earthquake letter received. Remember, the
Paris Herald has to Hve.
We see a good deal of the ambassador, and also of
Dealing, clever and courageous. When the ambassador
will leave I don't know; but we do know the greatest
benefit a chief can confer on his first secretary.
Dealing is trying his hand at translating Mallarme,
and last night we were turning the "Frisson d'hiver"
6 67

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
round about, but we didn't do to it what he did to "The
Raven." It begins: "Cette pendule de Saxe qui retarde et sonne
treize heures parmi ses fleurs et ses dieux, d, qui a-t-elle
mi" We dine at the Austrian charge's to-morrow. Every
thing always very soigne-. He has an Austrian cook, I
believe, and a pleasant mania for cleanliness. He wiU
soon be leaving, as Baron Riedl from Rio Janeiro, his
cousin, is appointed minister here. You remember him
and his American wife from Rome.
I am sending a huge bundle of zarapes, dull blue and
white, sewed up in canvas — so nice for the garden, and
for Elliott on his terrace.

VI
Speculations as to the wealth of "the Greatest Mexican" — Fourth of
July — Madero as evangelist — The German minister's first official
dinner with the Maderos as the clou. July ist.
THERE are great speculations as to Diaz's wealth,
and millions are put to his account with a light
hand.1 Some say he has twenty millions in Spain, in
Paris, in Wall Street. I am sure I hope he has feathered
his nest — both he and Limantour. As I remarked be
fore, the Romans that made the roads probably did, but
they made the roads. There is a not-negligible quan
tity in Mexico, in abeyance for the moment, which is
very suspicious and uncertain, not of the honesty of
Madero (all parties allow that), but of his ability to
handle the situation, which demands civic talents of a
high order.
President de la Barra has a pension plan which will
1 This was a time-honored calumny told to all new-comers in Mexico,
and believed by many chiefly because it would have been so easy for
Don Porfirio to enrich himself to any extent he pleased. The facts are
that his ambitions lay rather in the direction of power for himself and
peace and progress for his country than in that of the amassing of riches.
He was a man of the simplest personal habits, though he always main
tained a state dignified and befitting his high office.
During his years of exile he and his beautiful wife lived in the quietest
manner on an income sufficient only for the ordinary comforts of life.
The last will and testament of "the Greatest Mexican " further proved
that he could be called to no such accounting by the Final Judge.
As for Serior Limantour, he. inherited a large fortune from his father,
principally in real estate, that increased in value during those years of
prosperity which his long and able administration of the finances of
Mexico did so much to bring about. 69

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
doubtless give him much trouble, as it wiU have to in
clude all of Mexico, or those left out will know why. As
was observed by some one the other day, the more the
Mexicans try to change Mexico the more it remains
the same thing.
Practically new electoral methods are to be tried out,
and how Madero, unless he has a secret flair for civic
matters, is to solve them is what we are aU waiting to
see. The people's ears are full of promises. The gov
ernment would promise the snow of Popo — anything;
but there is a ditty being sung about town now that
gives one food for thought:
Poco trabajo, Little work,
Mucho dinero, Much money,
Pulque barato, Cheap pulque,
Viva Maderol Long live Madero!
It's a bit wabbly for founding a government on,
but doubtless represents very accurately the dreams of
the pelados (skinned ones), as the peons are caUed.
You speak of the subscriptions for the earthquake
relief here. It was not a national disaster. National
disasters take other forms in this latitude. Scarcely a
ripple is left, and as for the money to repair the city and
close the splits in the streets, the municipality gives that
and the contractors jump for joy.
I do not minimize the dangers here, but, of course,
I don't draw highly colored pictures, being sure of your
interest in any statement of facts, however plain they
may be. I have rarely felt safer anywhere than in
Mexico City; certainly never more comfortable and
continually interested. We often walk home after din
ners or bridge. The clean-washed air is so refreshing
after being in rooms, however large, at this altitude.
The gendarmes stand at every few crossings with their
70

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
lanterns. The streets are deserted, dry, and clean.
There is no Nachtleben. The program is here early to
bed, early to rise, and the thrice-blessed siesta to renew
the day.
I am sending off a delightful book by Flandrau, Viva
Mexico. It has the real sparkle and "feel" of this mag
netic land. How true a word he spoke when he said,
"One does not go to Latin-America just to see what it
is like, or because one has seen it before and chosen to
return, but because circumstances in their wonderfully
lucid way have combined to send one."
I have just had a letter from the King of Denmark.
You know how promptly he always answers, la politesse
des rois. But the old Copenhagen days with their blues
and grays and Aryan ways of thought and habits of life
are immeasurably remote from these, not only geo
graphically and in time, but psychologically.
The other evening at the Arbeu Theater, where Vir
ginia Fabregas, an old favorite here, was playing, my
eye was suddenly arrested by the profiles as I looked
from the box down a row of seats. They were so diverse,
so strange, Hke those one comes across on the ground
floor in the corner rooms of museums — Mongol, Indian,
Aryan. There did not seem to be any one type. It was
just a patchwork loosely sewn together, the bits coming
out of unknown generations from the desires of the four
corners of the earth. July 3d.
The rainy season bat son plein. Immense quantities
of water are thrown down from the heavens between
three and six every day, after which it has always
cleared, with the exception of that historic evening
when the mob was "out" to destroy the creator of its
present Mexico. How quickly republics, not alone this
strange Indian republic, put away their great! It is
7i

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
most discouraging to one desirous of finding aU good
things in that form of government.
I have finished De Solis. Also I have ' ' read ' ' a gram
mar, and, of course, there are the servants, instillers
of that rather patchworky thing called kitchen-Spanish,
and there are the newspapers. A teacher is coming
next week. I haven't yet felt like mapping out any
special plan of study, being in readiness at certain hours,
but am enjoying the "simple life" thrown against this
colorful background of a colorful race in revolution.
Only two dinners this week, at the Brazihan charge's,
and on Sunday the German minister gives his first dinner.
He has taken a large furnished house in the CaUe Liver
pool, very expensive and suitable, as far as space goes,
for a Legation. It belongs to a wealthy Mexican who
was seduced, however, by art nouveau. Large hat-racks
and high jardinieres in the form of giant pansies in
natural colors furnish the great haU and testify to his
ruin. Von H. endeavored to strike some sort of average by
hanging some beautiful rugs from the square railing
of the second story. His good furniture from Europe
arrived in such a state that he said nothing was needed,
as case after case was unpacked, but brooms to sweep
out the debris. July 4th, evening.
Our Fourth-of-July celebration took place at the
Tivoli Eliseo in the Puente de Alvarado, which is Hke any
picnic ground anywhere (unless you look up at the match
less sky). There was the usual accompaniment of pink
lemonade, peanuts (called cacahuates here), and brass
bands. There was a luncheon with speeches which
would have stirred my national soul more if I weren't
stiU in a half-dream at finding myself in this strange and
gorgeous land. As I was leaving the festive scene word
72

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
was passed round that Madero was coming and would
speak. I stood on the outer fringe of the crowd, which I did
not try to penetrate, and found it most interesting to
see, even at a distance, the evangelist "evangelizing."
Madero's face, so familiar in photographs, and which
seems featureless but for the broad forehead and black,
pointed beard, becomes iUuminated as he speaks, and
his gestures are continuous, the voice soft, with a smooth
flow of words. I could not catch what he said, but I
knew it was his work of hypnotizing Mexico.
A more material diversion, N. told me, was created
later by a cock-fight, forbidden by the pofice, but secretly
adored, which took place in a little inclosure. There
is no doubt about that animal being in every sense the
cock of the Mexican walk. He is the only beast really
cherished by them. He even shares the precious hat,
and his idiosyncrasies and caprices are tenderly studied.
When he fights little knives are tied onto his legs,
which is why the sport, though briUiant, is short as
far as the cock is concerned.
I keep wondering how Madero can "divide up the
great estates" and defiver them to that unknown, and
here even unlabeled , quantity , ' ' the people. ' ' According
to the Plan de San Luis Potosi, it would seem as if
Mexico were a cake one had simply to cut into and
then pass around the sfices.
There is an underlying excitement in the European
contingent of the Diplomatic Corps. The sending of the
Panther to Morocco looks like one of those Franco-
German incidents that we were famifiar with when in
Berlin, and may lead to real difficulties.
July 8th.
To-day what started out to be a Httle golfing lunch,
gathered together by N. in the sunny morning hours
73

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
when it seems it wiU never rain again, turned into a
sort of disputa about many things, within four waUs.
A tremendous hailstorm came up and darkened and
nipped the town, so the "foursome" sat long talking,
the water pouring from the roof. Leclerq, Koch, and
Nacho Amor are aU cultivated, agreeable young men.
Amor was educated at Stonyhurst, and has the soft,
pleasant voice and defightful English of Mexicans who
have passed young years in England.
As I write, near and very brilliant stars, under which
I was not born, are shining into the patio, and in a
moment I must go and walk about the inner veranda
and look up into that dazzling bit of heaven in the
square frame of the house. If it were only not so far and
unsharable with my beloved ones!
July . ioth.
Last night the German minister gave his first big
dinner, at which the Maderos, making their debut in
official international life, were the clou. We arrived as
it was striking eight, but the Belgian minister, whom
we met going in, said they had already arrived.
I found the large room rather full, with a hitherto
unsampled Mexican contingent. Von H. was standing
by the door, near the Maderos, and we were presented
almost immediately. Madero, seen at close range, is
small, dark, with nose somewhat flattened, expressive,
rather prominent eyes in shallow sockets, and forehead
of the impractical shape. But aU is redeemed by ex
pression playing Hke lightning over the saUow, feature
less face and his pleasant, ready smile.
He speaks French and some Engfish, preferring the
former, but lapses continually into Spanish, his ideas
coming too fast for a foreign medium, and he uses many
gestures. There is something about him of youth, of
hopefulness and personal goodness; but I couldn't help
74

VON HINTZE, GERMAN MINISTER TO MEXICO
(191 I to 1914)

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
wondering, as I looked at him during the dinner, if he
were going to begin the national feast by slicing up
the family cake.
Madame Madero might be a dark type of New Eng
land woman with a hint of banked fires in her eyes.
There is a sort of determination in the cut of her face,
which is rather worn, with an expression of dignity.
She, too, is smaU and thin, and was dressed in an ordi
nary high-necked black-and-white gown, a narrow "pin
stripe," with the most modest of gold brooches hold
ing the plain, high collar. She gives an impression of
vafiance without any hint of worldliness, or desire for
any kind of flesh-pot. I pictured her at Chapultepec,
and somehow could not fit her in as chatelaine of that
high-standing palace.
Of course all the other guests were in their best "bib
and tucker." I wore that "Spitzer" white satin with
the floating scarlet and black tulle draperies. It seems
very magnificent here; but in Paris, at Madame Porges's
great dinner, and at the Russian Embassy, the train did
not seem quite so long and slinky, nor the drapery so
tight around the ankles, as the dresses of the wonderful
Frenchwomen. As we went into the dining-room I saw, a mile off,
the unmistakable name O'S. by Madero's, and naturally
thought it was for me. I sat down, then had to take my
appointed place quite a good deal higher up by the Min
ister of Foreign Affairs. So disappointed. It was N.,
however, who was to help him fill the "suburbs" of the
table. Countess Massiglia presided; on her right was
the Minister of Foreign Affairs; then I came; then an
elaborately uniformed but, as far as I was concerned,
anonymous military gentleman whose card was under
his napkin — which he did not use.
The Maderos are reputed enormously wealthy; their
75

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
wealth is mostly invested in lands, however. I under
stand Madero spent all the available family cash on the
revolution, though he told N. last night that no revolu
tion had ever been carried through so cheaply from the
standpoint both of men and of money.
Von H. does things very well. The courses were ac
companied by wines of special, rare vintages, and his
dinner was lavishly and handsomely presented. He has
the same majordomo that the Towers had in Berlin —
that huge, blond man (I forget his name). I asked him
how he Hked Mexico; he permitted himself the hint of
a sigh, and said it was not Berfin, adding, "Aber es
giebt nichts zu machen."
Madame Madero was placed between the Itafian
minister and the Austrian charge, our host having the
wife of the Norwegian minister on his right and Madame
Romero on his left. N. said Madero was very mili
taristic, considering he was come to bring peace, and
somewhat suspicious of the United States.
On the other side of Madero was that anomaly, a
Mexican vieille fille, whose name I did not get. I sup
posed she belonged to one of the two or three elderly
military men present. N. suggested to Madero his faU-
ing in with the views of the United States in the regulat
ing of claims, and he said the foUowing in French, "You
Americans always act on the presumption that we Mexi
cans are always in the wrong. " N. said this was a propos
of his remark, "Now, Mr. Madero, you are going to be
President, and I know when your government gets in
you will clear up aU matters pending between the two
countries, and let us begin with a clean slate."
There had been some discussion among us all as
to how Madero should be seated at table. He was the
undoubted next President, the leader of the Ejefrcito
Liberatado, but actuaUy at the moment he was without
76

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
official status of any kind, and could not be placed above
plenipotentiaries with their definite ranking.
Von H. cut the Gordian knot, rather informally, by
putting him next N. "so that they could have a talk,"
which they did!
Handsome young De Weede turned up yesterday,
having made the ascent of Orizaba, a great feat. He
came down in a dreadfully burned condition, however,
and spent some days in bed attended by a physician.
He is the son of our friend, the Dutch minister in
Vienna. He returns there as first secretary with his father,
regretting Washington very much.
He had seen the Hitts in Guatemala, and showed me
photographs he had taken of their house with its lovely
patio, fountained and flower-planted. The roughly
paved street gave the outside a desolate look which it
doubtless has not really got under that sky, as blue as
this. It was so nice to see De W. again, and the "wel
kin rang" with reminiscences of the Kaiser stadt and the
happenings of our mutual friends. July 12th.
Von H. has been criticized for having had Madero
at a formal dinner, where he could not have the first
place at table, being the Liberatador and more than all
the others put together. However, I imagine it is those
who were not at it who felt critical. I inclose the menu.
Apart from the huachinango, the wonderful Mexican
redsnapper, the fish that Indian runners used to bring
up on their backs from Vera Cruz for Montezuma's
delectation, it might have been a handsomely presented
dinner anywhere in the world.
This morning I took De W. to the museum to look over
the treasures, pre- and post-Cortesiana. The building
forms part of the Palacio Nacional, some of which dates
77

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
back to the great captain, and it was the celebrated
Casa del Estado during the viceregal period. The old
colonnaded patio is a beautiful receptacle for a flooding
sun, as well as the altars and carvings of a bygone
civilization. In the middle are the Sacrificial Stone, and
the great Calendar Stone, which has contributed more
than anything else to give the Aztecs their reputation
for scientific achievements. They adjusted their festi
vals by the movements of the heavenly bodies, fixed
the true length of the tropical year, etc.
For some generations after the discovery of the
Calendar Stone in the subsoil of the Plaza it was ce
mented onto one of the towers of the cathedral, and
only in the eighties was removed to the museum. The
Piedra de Sacrificios is appalling when one thinks of its
origin and use; but with an extremely handsome young
man leaning against it, under that warm sun, in that
mellow old courtyard, it was not, for the moment, so
dreadful to contemplate. Its true home was the top
of the great temple, and there Cortes found it.
During the siege of the city the conquerors, watching
from afar, are said to have sometimes seen their own
captured comrades led up the great stairway to the
stone on which they were placed, their chests opened
with a special razor-fike knife made of obsidian, the
palpitating heart torn out, held for an instant toward
the sun, this sun, and then flung at the feet of the god
of war. HuitzilopochtH, the aforesaid god, is a huge
block of basalt, half man, half woman, who was "born"
just as one sees him now, with the addition of a spear
in the right hand, a shield in the left, and on his head
a crest of green plumes, going Minerva one better.
Thousands were sacrificed to him yearly under this
wondrous sky, enfolded by this softly penetrating, vivify
ing sun. 78

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Afterward we went up and saw the "Maximiliana"
for "Auld Lang Syne," not much nor very interesting —
a huge amount of cristofle silverware and the saddle used
by the unfortunate emperor when he was captured at
Queretaro (May 15, 1867). The pictures of Maximilian,
one on a dashing white charger, show him a full-lipped,
blond-bearded, blue-eyed Austrian obviously unable to
cope with the Mexican poHtical situation. Carlota, in
pale blue and pearls, hangs by him. These portraits
are by Graefle, the Viennese court painter of the per
iod. Napoleon the Third, the cause of all their troubles,
hangs near with Eugenie — a copy of the Winterhalter
portrait of her, I think.
We took a look at the refics of Juarez, the "man in
the black coat," as the only Mexican ruler that didn't
wear uniform is caUed. The plainest of civilian garb
of the late sixties was in the vitrine, and near by was the
bed in which he actuaUy managed to die. This last, as
far as I can see, is unique among Mexican refics, Mexican
public men not having the habit of dying in bed.
Dealing has gone away, on three months' leave, and
N. is at his desk.
I must stop and take my baby on my lap. He has
been standing by my side, saying, "Dy will be done."
He is being taught various prayers, and repeats them
on all occasions. He is waiting with a bit of blotting-
paper to blot my letter, which I am sure he wiU do, and
wants to know if you got the last thousand kisses.
Evening.
These past two days I have lunched at Coyoacan.
Yesterday at the house of some American friends of the
ambassador's — the Becks — who are charmingly situated
in a huge old house surrounded by a great, tall-treed
garden, and filled with lovely old things. Mr. Potter,
79

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
who is down here to watch over large interests of his
own and other people's, is most witty and entertaining,
and with his friend, Mr. Butler, went with us. The
day before Mrs. Laughton, who had met De Weede,
asked us all for lunch at the Casa de Alvarado. I was
glad to show him some more "local color," and that
beautiful old house is simply oozing with it.
After lunch we went into the garden for our coffee,
whUe Efim played with Mrs. Laughton's two Httle chU-
dren; but, even with young voices sounding, a soft
sun shining upon lovely flowers, and sipping coffee under
the pleasant shade of the rose-grown arbor, the garden
is eery and melancholy-inducing.
On our way back we stopped at the Zocalo, and went
to the Academia San Carlos, the national picture-gaUery,
Academia de las Nobles Artes de Mexico, as it was caUed
under the viceroys. It has a huge collection of plaster
casts which cost the king several hundred thousand
pesos. Do you see the "Laocoon," the "Apollo Belve
dere," the "Young Hercules," etc., being brought up on
Indian backs from Vera Cruz? The patio and corridors
were full of scaffolding and plaster scrapings as we
passed in.
Humboldt speaks of seeing great haUs Hghted with
Argand lamps, evidently then the dernier eri of illumi
nation, and the Indian, the Mestizo, and the son of the
"grand seigneur" side by side, drawing and modeling
from the antique molds. Tolsa, the celebrated artist
of the "Iron Horse," taught here.
We took a glance only at some of the boresome, weU-
painted academic modern canvases, which made us
feel like dashing into the street to get some real pictures.
The rooms where the early Mexican painters, the Echave
brothers, Cabrera, etc., hang were closed for repairs or
cleaning. Indeed, the whole place was at sixes and
80

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
sevens, each object plastered with from two to five
numbers. As we had "met" most of the casts in
European museums, it didn't matter. We walked up the
gay Avenida San Francisco and stopped in at "El
Globo," a cafe much frequented from this hour on.
On coming out De W. took photographs of the
Jockey Club, its blue and yellow tiles particularly
brilliant against some threatening rain-clouds, and some
others of the charming entrance to the old Church of
San Francisco opposite; he said they could be hung
as "Sacred and Profane Love." We got back to Calle
Humboldt as the heavens opened and deluged the town.
General Crozier, just arrived from Washington, came
in the darkest and wettest hour. Such an unexpected
pleasure! There are not many Americans to visit
Mexico this summer. AU the people who used to come
in their private cars and bring a note of home and
gaiety are conspicuous by their absence. There is no
way of heating the houses, and sometimes during the
rainy hours there is a cold dampness which is very pene
trating. Stirring the embers of old acquaintance and
talking of "home" happenings was a very pleasant way
of alleviating the temperature this afternoon.
July 17th.
Don't fear that I shaU do anything rash about going to
Tehuantepec in the present state of things. I have even
given up the trip to Puebla. They are fighting and
kilfing there again, and in Calle Humboldt they are not.
Notwithstanding the press, which has its liberties
and the smiles of the government, things are not really
very stable. Aunt L. writes that San Geronimo has
been filled to overflowing with refugees from Juchitan,
the county-seat, twelve miles away. The feefing there
between the Maderistas and Porfiristas is very bitter,
and has just culminated in an uprising of the Indians
81

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
against the new Federal authorities, who had to fly for
their lives from a howfing mob of two thousand Indians
armed with rifles, clubs, and machetes. The Federal
General Merodia made no resistance, but came with
the civil authorities of the government to San Geronimo,
giving the mob no excuse for sacking and robbing
Juchitan. Every house in San G. is fuU, and furniture
piled in the street. It seems to me no one but the
Mexicans wiU be surprised that the overthrow of Diaz
has not brought about the millennium.
De Weede,1 who departs this evening for Vienna via
the Grand Canon and the Yellowstone Park, has just
been squeezed into N.'s frock-coat and top-hat (not
carrying such impedimenta himseU) to caU on the
President. The Dutch minister lives in Washington.
General Crozier comes for dinner on Wednesday. We
have just lunched at Stalewski's (the Russian minister's),
and he served the delicious Minis with caviar that aU
expect when lunching there. He often takes remote
journeys into the interior, coming back with a sUver
ingot and curious bits of carving. The diplomatic
species always dream dreams, and his is to tread again
the streets of Berne. In the evening Captain Sturte-
vant, our military attache, gives a dinner at the Ameri
can Club for General Crozier.
Later.
I have spent a last delightful evening with Prescott,
and Humboldt is waiting in five attractive, clearly
printed old volumes, Paris, 1811, that Mr. de S. brought
me yesterday. Now, just a century after, I am to turn
the pages. I have also some volumes of Alaman, who
brings things down to 1846.
I forgot to speak about my Spanish teacher, with
1 In the autumn of 191 1 Maurice de Weede was accidentally killed at
a shooting-party in Austria. 82

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
whom I have been studying as well as "Casteliano."
Her mind is about as mobile and receptive as a tin
saucepan upside down, and she is always late. Some
times her watch stops, sometimes the tramcar won't
stop, sometimes she forgets her purse or her keys, and
has to go back, etc.
She is still young, heavily powdered, insistently per
fumed, big-busted, tightly laced, tightly skirted, and
keeps a very short foot in a tight, high-heeled slipper in
front of her. She hates the sun, as I discovered when I
tried to have the first lessons in the sunny corridor.
This morning she told me in a lackadaisical, dreamy
way that the noise of the typewriter (she has some sort
of afternoon office work, for which she is doubtless totally
unfitted) was not good for her; that she had been think
ing over things, and had concluded that, if I would ar
range it, introducer of foreign ladies to the President's
wife was what she was fitted for. She said I probably did
not reafize what temptations the despacho office offered.
I dare say she has met a few devils in her day. She
wound up by saying that the society of ladies would be
less of a strain. It was all done quietly; she has evi
dently dreamed dreams. She did not streak her face
when she wept, dabbing her large black eyes carefully
with a coarse lace handkerchief drenched with cheap
scent. I explained as gently as I could that the position
she was thinking of was filled by the chef du protocole.
Though, without doubt, her life is completely common
place, she gave me the feeling of reaUy not understand
ing anything at all about her, and that is one of the
charms of Mexico. An illusion of elusiveness is con-
tinuaUy presented that keeps one on the chase for the
pleasure of the chase. You never get anything or any
where, but your interest is kept up — which, after all, is
the great thing.
7 83

VII
The old monastery of Tepozotlan — Lively times on the Isthmus —
The Covadonga murders — The Chapultepec reception — Sidelights on
Mexican housekeeping — Monte de Piedad July 21st.
YESTERDAY General Crozier, Mr. de Soto, and
myself motored out to the old church and monas
tery of Tepozotlan. The morning was indescribably
white, with a dash of diamond-powder on its lovely
face, and from the very door every turn of the wheel
took us over historic ground.
We turned down the celebrated Puente de Alvarado,
where the dashing captain for whom it is named is sup
posed to have made his great leap on July ist, the date
of the retreat of the Noche Triste, when the Spaniards
were fighting their way out of this same road, the
Tacuba causeway, to the hiU where the Church of the
Virgin of the Remedies stands. We passed the famous
Noche Triste tree, which those who live here view with
composure and indifference, but which stiU excites the
new-comer. And what's the use of an imagination if
one can't be stirred by the picture of Cortes sitting under
the great cypress and weeping as he took note of gap
after gap in the ranks of the companions of his great
adventure? There is an old romantic verse that I picked out the
other day, instead of preparing verbs, picturing Cortes
sitting under the great tree, one hand against his cheek,
the other at his side: 84

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
En Tacuba estd Cortes
Con su escuadron esforzado.
Triste estaba y muy penoso,
Triste y con grande cuidado,
Una mano en la mejilla
Y la otra en el costado, etc.
In Tacuba was Cortes
With his most valiant squadron.
Very sad and much distressed,
Very sad and greatly anxious,
One hand against his cheek
The other at his side.
As we got out of the city a white sun, the glory of
these windless mornings of the rainy season, was shin
ing on what seemed a world of crystal objects set in
blue and green and lilac. I was so proud of my Mexico
that the general said I acted as if I had "taken over"
the country. The little grayish, yellowish adobe huts
reminded him of Chinese vistas in color and outline;
but to me it was Mexico only, unique, endlessly beautiful.
The road was once the great highway to the north;
but the deep ruts, almost morasses, made us suspect
that many a jefe politico has sent his wife to Paris or
gone there himself instead of repairing it. All along
were nulestones bearing half-obliterated inscriptions
and arms of forgotten viceroys, who used to keep the
road up for the crown or themselves — rather a contrast
to the deep ruts of the now neglected highway. Since
the railway was built even Cuautitlan, the once famous
primera posta from Mexico City to the north, has
been abandoned, and our motor was the only vehicle
in the broad, deserted streets, which, however, filled
with Indians, as if by magic, at the sound of our horn.
For nearly an hour we could see the delicate belfry
of Tepozotlan flattened against a gray-green background
85

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of hiU, while the sun was touching everything near us
with a sort of white incandescence, the maguey-fields
seeming like rows of stacked silver spears. One thing
about the Mexican vistas — they do not lose their charm
as you approach; and as we got into the square of the
Httle village we found a beautiful old church, inclosed
with its patio by a luscious pink, low-scaUoped waU.
These patios are a feature of every old Spanish church.
The friars used them as school-rooms, as courts of judg
ment, as medical dispensaries. Indeed, aU that had
to do with the temporal and spiritual needs of the
Indians was transacted in them.
The Tepozotlan patio is grass-grown, shaded with
pepper and palm trees, paved with sunken grave-slabs,
bits of cactus growing about them, and there is a lovely
cypress alley leading to the door of the smaU parroquia.
From this we passed into the great church, buUt with
the adjoining seminary by the Jesuits toward the end
of the sixteenth century, and restored nearly a hundred
years ago, in Iturbide's time. As reminder of his brief
imperial career we found the Mexican eagle painted in
profile on the old wooden benches.
The church is a triumph of the Churrigueresque school
(I have learned to spell this word, but never, never,
wUl it casually trip from my tongue). The vault is
simply a madness of gilt carving, and there is a beauti
ful high altar and many side altars of the richest and
most varied designs, aU the gold having a lovely reddish
patine. We investigated the organ loft, but found only
a broken organ with yellowing ivory stops and keys,
and a few dusty missals with all the engravings and
title-pages gone.
The general is not ecclesiastically inclined, and the
visit to the old monastery, so bare, so stripped of aU
belongings, was most cursory. We soon betook ourselves
86

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
to the cypress alley and the warm sun outside, lunching
in the auto in the village square, with children and old
women clustering about and waiting for the crumbs from
the banquet. The latter was somewhat marred for us
by the discovery that the mineral-water opener had
been forgotten. The motor was drawn up near a little
pink-and-blue pulque-shop caUed El Recreo del Antiguo
Goto,1 but it contained no help for us; neither did a
search at a stUl smaller one rejoicing in the name of
El Templo de Venus, i on the other side of the Plaza, prove
successful. However, the general pointed out hope
fully that it would soon begin to rain.
On the way back we did get caught in one of the usual
infant cloudbursts, which left the difficult roads of the
morning almost impassable, and several times we had
to get squads of Indians, who rose up apparently from
the solid earth, to help puU the car out of various huge
morasses. I thought at one time we could not get back
for the dinner I was giving for General C. ; but having
the guest of honor with me, I felt fairly philosophic.
The ditches in some places were thickly carpeted with
a long-stemmed, yellow, Hly-like flower, and though
warned that nobody would pick me out if I sfipped into
the black water underneath, I gathered great, heavy
scented bunches, while the gentlemen and the Indians
wrestled with the conveyance. Mr. de S. said the un-
fafiing remark on the part of the Indians was, "No quiere
andar " ("It does not wish to go ' ') — a favorite and some
times final phrase here about machinery that is out of
order. Later.
There have been Hvely times on the Isthmus. The
former Federals against Maderistas. Aunt L.'s big
house has been taken by the government for a hospital.
1 Recreation-ground of the Ancient Cat. 2 The temple of Venus.
87

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
A cruel uncertainty about affairs Mexican presses heavily
everywhere. The dinner for General C, after the long day at
Tepozotlan, went off very pleasantly. He says he is
here only en touriste, but he has the recording eye. The
German minister returned from investigating the horrid
Covadonga murders just in time to get into his evening
things. Dealing, De Soto, Sturtevant, Mr. and Mrs.
McLaren, et al., made up the dinner guests. The
McL.'s are strong supporters of the Madero movement,
and hope more than it seems reasonable to hope from
such a movement in such a country.
Von H. is up to his eyes in the compHcations of the
Covadonga murders where four Germans, one of them
the wife of a manufacturer, were fiteraUy hacked to death
in their factory. They were caught in a large room with
one frightened Spaniard, the others having fought and
shot their way out. Sixty-eight in aU were kiUed and
some two hundred wounded, nearly all Spaniards.
Whether this is to be laid at the doors of the "Liberating
Army" or is simply a little independent fling of a bandit
chief called Zapata is not yet known.
Von H. has sent out a circular to his nationals, urging
caution. He intends to bring the gufity ones to justice
himself if the government does not; there was a light
in his eye as he announced it, and a cfick of the teeth.
Emilio Madero, brother of Madero, is chief of the
also troubled zone of Torreon. Circulars are being dis
tributed by his orders begging the people to respect
foreign fives and property, and explaining the necessity
of the continuance of foreign capital, intelligence, and
method in the country. They also state that any one
voicing sentiments hostile to Spaniards, or other for
eigners, Americans included, wfil find no place in the
Ejdrcito Libertador (Liberating Army).

Photograph by Ravell

MEXICAN WOMEN WATER-CARRIERS

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The servants seem such nice human beings. All their
defects are small, and they are so honest. I feel myself
more and more fortunate to have got this nice, practical
arrangement with the je ne sais quoi of culture and
breeding added.
The whole machinery runs comfortably, economicaUy,
and agreeably. I never scorn the pesos, or even the
centavitos they return to me from the kitchen when we
have been out, or things were less expensive than they
expected in the market. Is it not all of a touching
honesty ?
Some grim fatality attended my first waving back of
the centavitos with a grand air. Either the bells were
not answered, the food was not carefully prepared, the
dinner was late, or some such thing. Now I accept the
centavitos and life takes its normally smooth course. I
had been warned not to refuse these offerings of simple
hearts; and these same fatalities were foretold me by
others more experienced in Mexican domestic psychology
than I. July 27th.
Home from another reception at Chapultepec. I
always enjoy them, the setting is so perfect and the
elements so diverse. The iron circle is not as tight as
formerly, and this afternoon a sunset so gorgeous was
going on that it made us all ashamed to sit between four
mere brocade-covered walls, so there was much walking
about the terraces.
There is a single great pine growing near the castle,
where you look over the terrace toward the volcanoes,
Hke the umbreUa pines of the Borghese Gardens. It
was black to-day with scaUopings of bronze against the
sky, and as I stood there, looking at the beauty of it aU,
talking with one of the President's handsome brothers
(the one that is shortly going on a financial mission to
89

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
London), I realized, suddenly, the obvious and persistent
compensations of life.
Afterward we went down the Httle winding stairway
leading from la vitrina, the glass-inclosed balcony
looking over the side toward the city, to the large east
terrace, where an elaborate and abundant tea was
served at smaU tables. Hohler took me down. I felt
quite mellowed by all the beauty, and he, in spite of a
certain matter-of-factness, is always appreciative. There
is generally among the Corps Diplomatique a note of
nil admirari. Mostly they have seen a lot, and it's in the
note not to show surprise; but no one could look with
out a stirring of the soul on the marvelous vistas from
the terraces.
Hohler was about to set out on one of his periodical
journeys when he uses "wheeled things," as BeUoc
expresses it,1 as little as possible, and he showed me a
tiny edition of Ovid, ars amatoria, that he was taking
with him.
A long letter came from General Crozier this morning,
from Puebla. He had found Madero at Tehuacan, and
had had an interesting hour with him. The day before
he had had an interview with the Minister of War, who
sent an officer with him to visit various mifitary estabfish-
ments, the college at Chapultepec, the cartridge-factory
at Molino del Rey, the powder-factory at Santa Fe, etc.
What he thought of it aU I know not; he is one of the
discreetest of mortals. He says he is taking a regretful
departure from Mexico, where he found so much of
interest and friendly courtesy. Certainly good wishes
and regrets foUow him. July 28th, afternoon.
The Agadir incident bids fair to become more than an
incident. Asquith has just said that England, to the
1 The Road to Rome, Hilaire BeUoc,
9°

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
last man, the last ship, the last shilling, wiU stand by
France. We won't talk of the Httle panthers to-night at
dinner. As I was walking home from the Embassy this morn
ing I found myself wedged in by some motors, near the
troUey Hne, and had to wait, while a black funeral car,
familiar but unhygienic, passed under my nose.
The plain coffins, with or without palls (this had
none) , are placed in an open, sideless tramcar, sometimes
with flowers, sometimes without. They have to pass
the broad Avenida de los Insurgentes to get out to the
Panteon de Dolores, the big, modern cemetery behind
Chapultepec hiU. There are agitations, from time to
time, to prevent the carrying of these obviously not
hermetically sealed coffins through the city, scattering
germs and odors of mortality. Foreigners generaUy
turn their heads and try not to breathe; but the Mex
icans take off their hats and make the sign of the cross.
July 29th.
I have spent several afternoons with Humboldt, quite
intimately and cozily, to the sound of heavy water
falfing from the roof, and the room so darkened by the
deluge that I have had my Hghts turned on. He says
that Penon I wrote of wiU, one day, destroy Mexico
City. WiU it be Anno Domini 191 1? I envy him his
beautiful gift of accurate seeing. None of the marvels
of Nature, none of her vagaries, showed themselves to
him in vain; and he is astonishingly up to date.
I have begun to prowl about for "antiques." No one
escapes the fever, and in its defirium I wandered this
morning to the Monte de Piedad,1 which is housed in an
ancient building facing the cathedral. An old tablet
over the door records that it was founded in 1775 by
1 National Pawn-shop.
91

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Terreros, Conde de Regla, one of the most romantic
figures of the eighteenth century, as, by a lucky chance,
he became the owner of the Real del Monte- mines at
Pachuca. Among the people he was the subject of as many fables
as Croesus. When his children were baptized the pro
cession walked upon bars of silver, and when he was
made Conde de Regla he invited the King of Spain to
visit his mine, assuring him that if he did so his feet
should never touch the earth.
The Monte de Piedad was founded for the purpose of
keeping the poor out of the clutches of the usurers.
Going in on the ground floor, directly from the street,
I found myself in a crowd of elbowing people of aU
classes, leaning over glass-inclosed show-cases, where
jewels and silver and smaU objects of value are exposed.
In the large space immediately back are samples of
everything used by man except things that need to be
fed. After having fingered the greatest number of objects
that, in my right mind, I would have no possible use for,
I concentrated my energies on a pearl pin, the pearl
really visible to the naked eye, and bought it for thirty
dollars; but I expended more than thirty doUars' worth
of time and energy, even as those things go here. It's a
scarf-pin and, somehow, in its old, briUiant setting, it
seemed to try to tell a tale. Perhaps it had held some
viceroy's lace? I wiU send it to you for St. Augustine's
Day.

VIII
Elim's fourth birthday party — Haggling over the prices of old Mexican
frames — Zapata looms up — First glimpse of General Huerta — Ro
mantic mining history of Mexico. August 3d.
AGAIN it is the blessed anniversary. It seems but a
¦** moment of time since my arms received my son.
He asked me, the first thing this morning, at what time
he would be four years old. When I told him it had
akeady happened he set up a dreadful howl. It appears
he had expected to feel himself becoming four, as he
informed me when he got his breath. I only send this
line to you on this, his fourth mark on the shores of
life. Now I must be up and doing. The sun is flooding
the patio. Later.
His birthday party was sweet, but I was deathly
homesick for you, when kind and friendly strangers
came, bringing their gifts and good wishes. He had his
cake, and the four candles for the years he had blessed
my Hfe. The two Httle Japanese, Madame Chermont's
Httle boy, the two handsome children of the Casa
Alvarado, the Httle Simon boy (too sweet, with his dark
curls and big eyes), Dealing, Arnold, and Palmer, from
the Embassy, came.
Von Hintze, who loves little children, dropped in late
with a book of fairy tales. Mrs. Laughton brought
.<Esop's Fables, not many pictures in it, and as Elim
opened it at a printed page he said, with shining eyes,
93

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
"Endlich habe ich ein xLesebuch." He has spent a good
deal of time, since, holding it upside down and asking
not to be disturbed while reading. He and Jom Cher-
mont had a clash of arms, and Bobo, the two-year-old
Httle Jap, ran the whole show with singular competence.
An invading nostalgia possessed me all the afternoon,
and I kept thinking of the beautiful word the Portuguese
charge, De Lima, taught me a few days ago at dinner —
"saudades," meaning memory of dear and early scenes,
or of loved ones, or of aU these things together. I pre
sented my son with two tortoises and a Httle green bird,
a clarine, which can be kept on the oleander terrace,
though he had asked for a monkey and a crocodile.
I see that Abbey is dead. The wonder of those reds of
the "Parsifal" frieze in the Boston Library has foUowed
me for years. Tout a une fin, but when an artist dies
there is a double end. I have just come across most
beautiful photographs of Mexico — gum-prints and caUo-
types, after some special process by an artist named
RaveU, who has a remarkable eye for this beauty and
evidently a soul to receive it.
August 8th.
To-day was my usual Tuesday at home. Elim, in
spotless white, played quietly under the tea-table most
of the time with his Httle legs sticking out. Torrents of
rain, and only a few caUers, among them the German
Consul-General, Rieloff, very musical, asking us for
dinner, and Mrs. Cummings, handsome, competent, and
warm-hearted, the wife of the head of the cable com
pany, and a friend of Aunt Laura's since many years.
Lately I have bought several beautiful old Mexican
or Spanish frames. Sometimes they are inlaid with
mother-of-pearl, sometimes with ivory or bone. Some
times they are old, sometimes only so cunningly arranged
to deceive the eye and fancy that they give the same
94

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
pleasure. To-day a short, stubby, insistent Mestizo, from
the Calle Amargura, brought me a beautiful one, and I
spent a most exciting hour haggling over the price. The
four evangelists are carved in mother-of-pearl at the
four corners, with a charming, simple device of diamond-
shaped pieces in between. A beautiful RaveU photo
graph of the stone sails of Guadalupe just fitted into it,
and it will hang above the bookcase by my sofa. The
room has many friends whom I have put in Mexican
frames; Elim and Sofka, Iswolsky, the Towers, Mr.
Taft, Mr. Roosevelt. A sweet one of Gladys S., with
lier first-born in her arms, has a soft, yeUow wood frame,
with an old, irregular tracing in black and ivory.
I can't caU Mexico a melting-pot exactly, as things
don't melt here. But it is a strange place, with strange
people and peculiar situations. Society here, blown
together by the four winds of the earth, is a mixed affair,
and various people have disappeared from the rolls
since our arrival. Some come to seek, some, it would
appear, because they are being sought, others stiU whose
life demands a change of setting.
It now appears that a certain agreeable foreign couple,
received by everybody, had never been joined in holy
matrimony. It came out between the invitation and
the dinner at the  Legation. It was not official
enough for the minister to intimate to them that the
dinner was off, but definite enough to make him most
uncomfortable. Everybody behaved very weU, how
ever, and as he sat at the table, his eye glancing rather
anxiously about the possible field of battle, I felt quite
sorry for him; but I realized that though anybody has
a right to the highways, in the narrow compass of the
drawing-room aU must, alack! be alike.
Peretti de la Rocca, the clever conseiller of the French
Embassy in Washington, took me out to dinner. It is
95

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
he who married, when en poste here, the handsome only
daughter of the Suinagas', living in our street. It was
very pleasant talking Washingtoniana, Mexicana, and
politics. Yesterday, Sunday, I spent the day at the Del Rios'
at Tlalpan, on the first slopes of the Ajusco Mountains.
Von. H., who confesses openly to homesickness, took me
out with Elim, and we dropped N. for the usual Sunday
golf at the Country Club as we passed by.
The Del Rios have a big, comfortable, modernized
house, v/ith a huge, unmodernized garden; and it is a
favorite Sunday haunt of certain of the diplomats. In
the tiny inner court there is stfil a gem of an old ' ' rosace ' '-
shaped fountain, with calla-Hlies growing about it. Small
bitter-orange trees, thickly hung with green and yeUow
fruit, adorn the corners, and masses of geranium-like
vines mingle with the ivy which covers the house walls,
pierced here and there with old grilled, arched windows.
On the plateau, famiHar vines and fruit-trees grow
wUHngly among so many things that don't flourish
together in Europe. Tlalpan was once beloved of the
viceroys; I think Revillagigedo first made it fashion
able, though it was settled immediately after the Con
quest, when the picturesque old church was erected.
Madame Calderon de la Barca, in whose time Tlalpan
was known after the name of the church, San Agustin
de las Cuevas,1 gives a most amusing account of the great
annual Whitsuntide gaming festival, and Del Rio tells
me that la Feria de Tlalpan still continues to be fittingly
celebrated by the exchange of temporary possessions in
various forms of gambling, and that it's not quite inno
cent of cock-fights.
However, we moderns repaired to the tennis-court on
arriving, where we found a dozen or so people using it
1 St. Augustine of the Caves.
96

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
to play ho,ckey, and others sitting about in comfortable
chairs watching the proceedings. We went for lunch
and tea, but stayed for supper, all scampering to the
house at tea-time, when a single, weU-timed shower
deluged the scene.
Some played bridge, and some read. Del Rio is an
agreeable, intellectual, bookish man, with degrees at
several continental universities, and has a good library
of new and old books. He also possesses some rather
radical ideas, though his personal life, as is so often the
case, plays itself out with conventionaHty on the highest
of ethical planes. His wife, partly of German origin, is
very pretty in a dark-eyed, unaffected, happy way.
When the rain passed we went out and sat in the
mirador, a sort of summer-house built into a corner of
the high stone wall, a feature of every Mexican garden,
and watched the sun-glow slipping from the hills, which
took on a vivid blue, though the volcanoes kept their
light in their own exclusive, dazzling way for long after.
A pale moon, arisen among the sunset clouds, was wait
ing for its chance. By the time we started home through
a magical night in an open motor, packed with flowers,
a lot of us together, the moon was flooding the world
and had cut the whole plateau into great squares of
black and white.
August 10th.
I have just seen a list of the diplomatic shifts. Dear
Mr. O'Brien goes to Rome, the Ridgely-Carters, after
their pleasant, successful years of Europe, to the Argen
tine. The Jacksons have been appointed to Rumania.
It was very nice having them "near," in Havana. Each
must take his turn in the tropics, but we aren't any of
us physically fitted for prolonged sojourns, and I suppose
they are delighted to return to Europe, after their
"cycle of Cathay." 97

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mr. Lloyd Bryce, so cultured and agreeable, has been
appointed minister to Holland. With his beautiful wife
and their gifts of fortune they wiU make a representation
in a thousand.
Mexico seems to me the best of the Latin- American
posts, the most important to the United States, the most
interesting, the most accessible. We are lucky to have
got it, though I didn't feel so on the night of the ioth of
January, when the friendly porter of the Hotel Bristol
(in Vienna), as I was coming down-stairs for one of the
usual petits soupers, said to me: "So Madame is going
to leave us?" When I asked, "Where?" he told me it
was Mexico, having seen the Paris Herald before we
had! It was Hke hearing we had been transferred to
the moon.
Penn Cresson, secretary at Lima, is passing through,
en route for Washington. He says Peru is far; but he
brings some very attractive photographs of his abode
there, and it all depends, anyway, on what you take to a
place yourself — the heart and brain luggage — whether
you like it or not.
Yesterday we started to caU on Madame BoniUa, whom
I had met at the Del Rios', and for whom Mr. Cresson
had messages from the British consul-general and his
wife in Lima, formerly in Mexico. Madame B. is an
Englishwoman, and I had heard much of her great taste
and the really good things she has picked up.
When, on going to the address I thought was hers,
we got into a hall with a life-size negro in plaster-of-
Paris, draped with a pale blue scarf, and holding out a
gUt card-receiver, placed near the door, and to whom
we almost spoke, I was a bit taken aback. An Indian
servant somewhat stealthily showed us into a dull-red
dadoed room with a waving, light-blue ceiling, and many
enlarged famUy photographs in black frames hanging
98

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
against the walls. I saw C.'s interest wane as to the
giving of the message, and when, after ten minutes, a
large magenta-robed, hastily dressed, startled-looking
dark lady appeared, we could only make our excuses.
After much courtesy on her part, murmurings of d la
disposicidn de usted, and more excuses from us, we got
the address next door, where we found the kind of
interior we were expecting, drank the freshest of tea
brought in immediately by an accustomed servant, and
poured by a charming lady never surprised at five
o'clock. We fingered bits of silver, hearing just how they had
been acquired, looked at the marks on the porcelain,
admired some gorgeous seventeenth-century strips of
brocade, all to the accompaniment of questions about
mutual friends and the inexhaustible "Mexican situa
tion." Suum cuique.
August 1 2th.
Last night, dinner at the Danish Legation, where
things are weU and carefully done. I again sat next
the Acting Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Carbajal y
Rosas, a huge man with a black beard, and intellectual
in our sense of the word. He talked very interestingly
about Mexico and affairs here in general. In regretting
certain things, he gave me a quotation from Taine to
the effect that it is un pauvre patriotisme que celui qui
s'imagine que Von doit excuser les crimes de son pays,
simplement parcequ'on en est un citoyen.
He and President de la Barra are great friends ; and he
thinks that after this coming electoral term (six years)
he should be President again — himself, I suppose, as
Minister for Foreign Affairs. Now De la Barra, who is
the candidate for the Vice-Presidency of the Catholic
party, which is to be reorganized with a modern and
republican program, could not be elected, even if he
8 99

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
wished. The Madero wave sweeps everything else be
fore it, though De la Barra is fiUing a very difficult situa
tion with dignity and tact. He is caUed el Presidente
Blanco (the White President), for evident and creditable
reasons. As we sat about the handsome, methodicaUy arranged
rooms after dinner they seemed fiUed not alone with
Scandinavian household gods, but with the atmosphere
of the north, and as entirely detached from Mexico as a
polar bear carried to southern seas on a block of ice. The
portrait of Mr. L.'s father, the author, and other por
traits of distinguished men of an unrelated race, watched
us from the waUs. Even the old pieces of silver and the
bric-a-brac were but remotely connected with this present
existence, and Mr. L. 's glass-doored bookcases were fiUed
with Scandinavian Hterature. He is a cheval between
Mexico City and Havana, but in Havana they Hve in a
hotel, keeping the "Saga" here.
F. Vasquez Gomez has announced himself as candidate
for the coming presidential elections, but I expect it wUl
end with the announcement.
In toying with the Encyclopedia Britannica on a
watery afternoon I accidentally came across the name
of "Efim." I expected to see some hero of Russian
history, but lo! it said, "Elim, third king of Ireland,
kiUed in battle." I builded better than I knew!
Assumption Day, August 15th.
Went to the cathedral this morning, walking down
the broad streets through a glistening, dry air; this
afternoon, however, hail, wind, and sheets of water are
spoiling the holiday for the people.
A dinner here last night. Beautiful, ragged, yellow
chrysanthemums, much smaller than ours, decorated
the table and drawing-room. The German and Russian
IOO

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ministers, Penn Cresson, the McLarens, and others were
the guests.
A letter comes from Demidoff . He is leaving Paris to
join Sofka, who is now in Russia with her people. They
go together to Taguil in the Ural Mountains, to inspect
their platinum mines. He is just back from a trip to the
Spanish Pyrenees with Celestin after chamois, which
latter he says don't compare with their Transylvanian
cousins. He rather loftily asks if N. enjoys most parrot-
shooting or monkey-stalking. His letter is interlarded
with little questions as to when we are going to annex the
country. He had been in charge for a month and had the
excitement of a change of government and the Agadir
incident during that time. At the Embassy, it would
seem, they are one big, jolly family. It made me quite
homesick. He winds up with a postscript, saying he had just
finished The New Machiavelli. He considers it a chef
d'ceuvre, but I read it only a few months ago, and no
book whose atmosphere and intrigue you forget in as
short a time is great.
I think of you and Sofka, standing in the station, as
the train roUed out from Paris, that rainy Sunday, to
Cherbourg, our first 6tape to the tropics.
August 17th.
AU quiet in Mexico City, but we understand that
to-day a battle is taking place at Cuemavaca between
Zapata, our "foremost" brigand, with three thousand
troops, and the Federals.
Those who know teU me that Zapata is atavistic in
type, desirous of Mexico for the Indians, d la a celebrated
Indian chief of the Sierras de Alica. "Mexico for the
Indians" really means a sponging out of everything
IOI

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
between us and Montezuma, and decidedly "gives to
think." A few days ago, dining at Silvain's, the French res
taurant in vogue here, we saw a General Huerta who
seemed muy hombre, a broad-shouldered, flat-faced, rest
less-eyed Indian with big glasses, rather impressive, who
was returning to Morelos to fight Zapata. I don't know
if this was his battle or not.
The Russian minister is going on leave. I gave him a
Httle green jade god, to take to Demidoff, sworn to me,
in the name of various deities, to be what it appears to
be, authentic. He is not handsome, but he has a delight
ful, smooth "feel" and something chic about him, in his
own Httle Aztec way. August 18th.
The Finance Ministry; which was just opposite when
we first came, where Limantour created and guided the
infant steps of Mexican finance (le premier pas qui co-llte),
is now converted into the Police Bureau. There are
always a lot of people — women, children, young men and
old — all in some kind of trouble, standing or sitting on
the curve in the most picturesque combinations. It
makes the street very human, almost too human, when
lawbreakers are brought to justice in the night hours.
August 20th.
Two days ago N. met a man who knows aU about your
Avino mines, but nothing consoling. It is a splendid
property, but had the misfortune to be exploited by one
of the canniest of men. One, however, who didn't He
awake nights worrying about the investors, and who
ruined it, as far as the investors are concerned, by always
getting in new machinery, he taking the commissions on
the machinery, which was easier and quicker than
getting the ore out. 1 02

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The mining history of Mexico is romantic in the way
Eastern tales of gleaming treasure are — a simple rubbing
of Aladdin's lamp in many cases — and certainly her
national destinies have been molded by the precious
stores that her mountains hold. Some of the historic
mines were so rich that the veins could be worked by
bars with a point at one end and a chisel at the other,
simply prying out the silver, sans autre forme de proces!
The famous Bueno Suceso Mine in Sonora was discovered
by an Indian who swam across the river after a great
flood and found the crest of an immense lode laid bare
by the action of the water — a pure, massive hump
sparkling in the rays of the sun.
I told you of the Conde de Regla's mine, the cele
brated Real del Monte at Pachuca and the wealth
beyond the dreams of avarice that it brought in. He
began life as a muletier by the name of Terreros, and
ended by being able to lend the King of Spain a million
pesos. The mines of Catorce were discovered by a negro
fiddler, who, caught out by the darkness on his way
home over the mountain, built a fire on what happened
to be a bare vein. The morning sun showed molten
bits of pure silver glistening among the embers. It's all
rather upsetting, collectively and individually.
Padre Flores, a poor priest in a little town in this same
San Luis Potosi, bought, for a small sum, from some one
still poorer, a mining claim. When exploring it he came
upon a small cavern which he straightway named "the
purse of God," for in it he found great heaps of ore in a
state of decomposition !
The Morelos Mine was discovered by two Indians,
brothers, so poor that the night before they could not
even buy a little corn for tortillas. Any Indian could
dream this dream going over any mountain.
103

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
There is the story of Almada, the owner of the cele
brated Quintera Mine, who, on the occasion of the mar
riage of his daughter, lined the bridal chamber with
silver and paved with silver the way which led from
the house to the church. In fact, there is a vast bibli
ography of mining romance. Many of the lovely old
churches in out-of-the-way places were bufit by the
friars of the seventeenth century, who worked the mines
solely to build churches and missions. Humboldt esti
mates that from its discovery up to his time (1803)
Spanish America had sent nearly thirty rmlliards of
piastres to Europe, an almost uncountable sum.
It's difficult to expect normal government from a
people who, in some parts of their country, are nourished
by the labor-saving banana and in other parts by tales
of about one in every fifteen mfilions becoming, over
night, rich beyond imaginings. In the end it aU must
have some influence on the psychology of the inhabitants.
Needless to add that your mine doesn't seem to be one
in fifteen millions ! 'Twill be weU to dream some other
dream ! August 27th.
Last night a large crowd, or rather mob, assembled
at the station to meet Madero on his return to town.
He did not come on the announced train and the multi
tude then marched through the town, a squad of mounted
soldiers behind, to keep them in mind that the whole
earth does not yet belong to them. We were sitting in
the library, about 10.30, as they passed through CaUe
Humboldt, making all kinds of unearthly noises. Sud
denly a little night-robed figure rushed in, saying, "Ich will
nicht getotet sein." Elim had awakened and jumped out
of bed at the noise, thinking the revolutionary fate he
hears so much about was upon him.
The German minister gave a large dinner last night,
104

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and afterward I played bridge with Otto Scherer, the
big cientifico Jewish banker, a friend of the Speyers, the
Schwalbachs, et al. He didn't draw his trumps out, and
so lost the rubber. I didn't mind. It was so amusing to
see a large financial Hght on his way to join the ten thou
sand English who are at Boulogne for the same reason.
I am going to take Efim out to lunch at Mrs. Kilvert's
at Coyoacan, and must now get ready. They have an
old house, trimmed with BougainviUea outside and
lined with books inside. To-night we dine at the
McLarens' — a dinner for James Garfield, who is their
guest. [St. Augustine's Day, August 28th.
Have been thinking of you to-day, as you wUl know.
The once famous Church of San Agustin is now the
National Library, so I went to San Hipolito near by,
equally interesting, and one of the oldest in Mexico,
dating from 1525. It was buUt on the spot where
hundreds of Spaniards lost their lives during the retreat
of the "Melancholy Night." But I was thinking of the
Nauheim days, and all the preparations for your feast,
and so much that has slipped "into the vast river
flowing." I hope you got the pearl pin.
Spent yesterday at the Bonillas'. They have a tumble
down, picturesque old country house, unoccupied for a
generation, that they are beginning to put in order,
with a jewel of an unkempt old garden, where all the
growing things have just done as they beautifully pleased.
It is a favorite spot for picnics for our little circle — not
too far out of town, just beyond Tacubaya. After
luncheon, partaken of under an arbor of mosquete and
honeysuckle at the end of a lovely white-piUared walk,
we wandered over the maguey-planted hUls stretching
back of the garden.
Von H. does not care about it all. As we sat on the
105

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
hillside, talking of Iswolsky, Demidoff, and Petersburg,
where he was for seven and a half years naval aide,
ad latere, to the Czar from the Kaiser, I thought how
Httle, after aU, he was fitted for a background of agave
Americana. Such a sweet letter from Miton S., from Copenhagen,
with a photograph of their charming Legation drawing-
room — with Miton's portrait and that of Janos by Tini
Rupprecht hanging on the wall. She teUs me she returns
to Horpacs, where Laszlo is to do her portrait and her
sister's. They are occupied with the famifiar Copen
hagen round, golfing every day at beautiful Klampen-
borg, and are going to the Fryjs' magnificent place for
a visit, and later to Norway chez les Lowenskiold.
August 31st.
Mr. Garfield came to lunch to-day with the McLarens.
He is most agreeable, and is trying to pursue the polit
ical game along altruistic lines. I certainly wish him
success. He, too, hopes all things from Madero. So
few Americans have come this way that to have any
of the really nice ones here is a great treat. It made me
think of all those far-away tales of my chUdhood, when
you knew his father as President. The luncheon was the
vehicle for one of those informal, intimate exchanges
from like standpoints, always so particularly agreeable
against an exotic background.
Yesterday, the 30th, Madero was nominated for
President by the Mexican Progressive party in con
vention in the city. As it was a case of "birds of a
feather," all went off smoothly as far as that special
assemblage was concerned, though any kind of peace is
apt to be rather noisy, I have discovered, this side of the
Rio Grande. The elections, primary and secondary,
are set for October ist and 15th.
106

IX

The Virgen de los Remedios — General Bernardo Reyes — A description
of the famous ceremony of the "Grito de Dolores" at the palace
September ist, evening.
TO-DAY was the feast of the Virgen de los Remedios,
once so important in "New Spain," and, as I had
planned, Mr. de Soto and I made the pUgrimage there.
It was the first church Cortes built in Mexico, on the
site of the Aztec temple, where he and his battered
remnant halted to bind up their wounds after the retreat
from Mexico City in the "Melancholy Night." We
started out at eight o'clock, on a dazzling morning,
rather weakly and apologetically within ourselves and
to each other, in a carriage, which took us through the
Paseo to Popotla and Tacuba and Azcapotzalco, where
we descended and crossed some maguey-fields fringed
by squat, half-ruined adobe huts.
We jumped endless ditches, made after the antique
pattern, untU we finaUy reached an uncovered horse-
tramway, crowded with such specimens of the plebs as
had the superfluous centavos for wheeled conveyances.
We were finally deposited at San Bartolo Naucalpam,
and then did the rest of the way, several kilometers,
decently and fittingly on foot, climbing over the white,
shining, pathless tepetate, which, with the pink tezontle,
has been from aU time the building material for Mexico
City. We were in the foot-hiUs of the Sierra de las
107

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Cruces, covered with a scant vegetation, various kinds
of cactus, or an occasional arbol de Peril.
The Indians seem to partake of this thinness of the
soil, this strange, vanishing quafity of Hght, this dis
solving of horizons, this pulsing of colors. A generative,
effective something is underneath aU the unrest and
disorder of the miserable political systems they seem to
produce, and if a race is constantly being born into a
world of wondrous Hght and color, it can persist in spite
of everything else being impossible.
Indians were rapidly and sUently approaching from
aU sides as we neared the church, which I had only seen
pressed against the purple hUls, wonderfuUy trans
figured at sunset or catching the Hght in the morning
hours. Mexico can hold the fancy quite independent
of the work of man. But when one adds the activities
of that creative, potent, Spanish race, infinitely inspired
by the background already perfect, with the building
materials, tepetate and tezontle, white and pink, giving
them what they wanted to place against green and blue,
the beauty of the result, wrapped in the strange transpar
ence of the plateau, is not to be wondered at.
Everywhere we looked we found something that
needed only to be framed to make a perfect picture, a
dome (media naranja, half orange, they caU the form),
with its attendant belfry of reddish-gray lace against a
hill, a group of Indians resting, with notes of red zarape,
white trousers, peaked hat. Any spot can become a
shop; there is just a spreading out of their wares, and
though the jefe politico of their special pueblo sees that
they don't vend without a license, at least there is no
rent. The. basket-venders, the sandal-venders, the pottery-
venders, the water-carriers, the carriers of glass jars
of precious pulque, were out in force, and the candle-
108

Photograph by Ravell

A TYPICAL GROUP OF CORN-SELLERS

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
trade was going strong, as we ascended the crooked,
crowded way to the patio. The buildings about were
crumbfing and neglected, and the smeU of the pungent
messes the Indians put into their tortillas was mingled
with faint whiffs of incense.
Everywhere the tortilleras were busy patting up their
tortillas, sitting squatted on their heels, occasionally on
a petate made from tules (reeds), but they seem to prefer
Mother Earth with their children tumbling about. We
got through the crowd to the door of the church where
clouds of incense, smoke from numberless candles held
in pious hands, and a persistent, almost visible, odor
of Aztec, la race cuivrie, further thickened the air.
No one noticed us. When you may have come fifty
kilometers on foot to worship a Dios Todopoderoso a
stranger or two doesn't count. They were kneeling
thickly pressed around the high altar, bending, with
their sombreros or their burdens laid in front of them,
with their arms extended, heads raised, a grave, strange-
eyed race, at the oldest of all occupations, communion
with its Maker.
Peons almost never sing, but a wheezy organ was
playing, and the priest, whom I could just see, was
giving the blessing after Mass. The Ite missa est did
not, however, empty the church as it does the temples
of more sophisticated races, and it remained tightly
packed. There are some old pictures, De Soto told me,
of authentic date of the first period after the Conquest,
but the church was somber, and they were so darkened
by time that one couldn't teU.
As for the Virgen de los Remedios herself I could only
dimly perceive her over the heads of Indians kneeling
before the little chapel of the shrine, where a few bunches
of red-berried branches mingled with the paper and tinsel
flowers. It is a small, wooden figure rudely carved, hold-
109

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ing an Infant Jesus. Tradition has it that on the sev
eral occasions when it was decided to render it more
artistic the artist appointed straightway sickened and
died. The figure is supposed to have belonged to one
of Cortes's captains, who brought it from Spain and who
clung to it through aU the horrors and dangers of the
"Melancholy Night." He afterward placed ;+- for safe
keeping in a huge maguey plant, where it was found a
generation later by a baptized Indian.
For centuries a great silver maguey, which Madame
C. de la B. (also that unflagging but amusing rejecter of
aU things Romish, R. A. Wilson) spoke of seeing, was
inclosed in her shrine.
At the time of the struggle for independence startling
anecdotes were recorded in connection with her. She
was the patroness of the Spaniards, who had her dressed
in the full regimentals of a general, in competition with
the celebrated Virgin of Guadalupe, the great patroness
of independent Mexico and the Indians. The Mexicans
defeated the Spaniards at the battle of Las Cruces, 1810,
and then the Virgin was summarily stripped of her
general's uniform, her sash and various insignia being
torn from her and her passports given her — a touch
of the party spirit which continues to be the curse of
Mexico. The Virgin of the Remedies was, among other things,
the great rain-maker, and in the viceregal days was often
carried in gorgeous processions through the city (of
course the naturally rainy months were tout indiquGs
for the procession). De Soto tells me there is still
an old proverb, Hasta el agua nos debe venir de la
Gachupina.1 After the Laws of Reform were adopted the silver
railing which inclosed the altar, the great silver maguey,
1 We must get even the water from the Spanish woman.
no

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and aU the treasures of jewels and votive offerings, went
into the national exchequer, with the unfortunate result
that now there is nothing in the church and nothing in
the treasury. The aforesaid Mr. WUson, who demolishes
every Aztec dream of Prescott and almost routs Hum
boldt from the scene, was particularly wrathy at the
idea of the three petticoats she wore, one embroidered
in pearls, one in rubies, and one in diamonds.
Perhaps it was because he only found what he calls a
"brand-new Paris doll" when he was there in 1859, after
the Laws of Reform.
I wanted to linger, but pangs of hunger, as well as
great banks of clouds, every possible shade of gray,
rolling up high, with here and there a patchwork of
dazzHng blue, reminded us that there are various ways
of getting rain. By the time we reached Calle Humboldt
it was nearly three o'clock, and as we lunched great
cracks of thunder sounded, the heavens opened, and then
came the rattling of hail. I thought with pity of the
shelterless Indians on the hill, whose whole life is some
simple yet mysterious pfigrimage from the cradle to the
grave, and stupidly wished them all sorts of things they
can't have. September 3d.
 writes that everything on the Isthmus is a
chaos or a drifting. The government is so uncertain
that nobody dares make any move except the brigands
and revolutionaries; and they, it would appear, are
always lively. Revolution comes easily in Mexico; it's
done with a light spontaneity, north, east, west, and
south, that "gives to think." It just bubbles up, now
the "lid is off," inherent and artless, Hke any other
disquieting natural phenomenon.
The great thing to read is Madero's Presidential Suc
cession. I have been looking at it, expecting to be more
in

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
interested than I am, but the subject-matter, it seems
to me, is only interesting because it appfies to Mexico.
Otherwise it is a bit platitudinous — the kind of thing
that in aU ages sincere demagogues have preached to
the people. It has, however, served to bring a sort of
democratic party, a so-called government by the people,
into being, but any kind of liberal bird, methinks, is apt
to lose a few tail-feathers here.
September Jlh.
Waiting for Tuesday visitors. I tried the first and
third Tuesdays, but it was a bore remembering which,
so I am at home every Tuesday. Sometimes they are
interesting, sometimes not, as is the way of "days."
Later.
Mrs. Martin's English friend from Japan presented
his letter this afternoon. As De Soto and the new
ly appointed Mexican minister to Vienna, Covarru-
bias, were here, and this latter was anxious to get a
lot of Vienna details, the elements were somewhat di
verse. A letter from Cal O'Laughlin teUs us that Arthur
WiUert, of the London Times, is on his way to Mexico to
write up the situation for his paper. He adds that people
are beginning to regard affairs in Mexico as little less
serious than the Boxer outrages, and that a good deal
of apprehension is felt. He himself is off for a trip
through Canada to write up reciprocity as the Canadians
look at it.
I am sending you a photograph of the "'Man of the
Hour." As you will see, being photographed is not his
"forte"; he sits wooden-faced in a huge, carved arm
chair, with a copy of the Constitution in his hands and
the date 1857 picked out in shining white on the covers.
He is now in Yucatan, making one of his accustomed
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
political tournies. He is developing into a sort of "Reise-
Kaiser." It is rumored that from the state of sisal and
henequen he wUl pick his running-mate.
Gen. Bernardo Reyes was stoned and robbed and
mobbed when he attempted to make a speech the
other day, and things are pretty noisy. He was rescued
by the police from the infuriated mob with the greatest
difficulty. He had just resigned his commission in the
army in order to be ready to serve an evidently unwilling
country as Chief Executive. September 12th, evening.
I sent you a rather hasty line this morning in com
memoration of  's birthday, the best and most faithful
of friends for this life and the next. I went to early Mass
to San Lorenzo, in the old part of the town, one of the
ways of seeing Mexico City.
Indians were sweeping the Alameda as I passed
through, with brooms of dry bushes tied on to long
sticks. A thin, pinky-white sun was filtering through
the lovely trees, and watering-carts were in evidence,
making rather scant tracings on the dusty, untrodden
streets of the night.
A little boy was drinking from a gutter, like some
puppy — his morning meal, I suppose. I do hope he took
the pennies I gave him to some place where he could
fill his little "tummy." The population, Indian and
Mestizo only, up and about their tasks, were shivering
a Httle in the chfily morning. Long lines of arrieros,
bringing their heavily laden donkeys into town with the
day's provision for le ventre de Mexico, were prodding
and exhorting their burros none too gently.
Priests introduced the donkey here in the sixteenth
century, to relieve the Indian of his burdens, and the
poor beasts have had an awful time ever since. The
only live stock for whose comfort the Indians are reaUy
"3

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
solicitous is the fighting-cock. He is fed, he is housed,
and his vagaries and exigencies are tenderly followed.
Elim has just asked me, with a hopeful gleam in his
young eye, what "raining cats and dogs" means, a
side-light on the afternoon weather.
The government would love to defer the elections
for a while, but the authorities don't dare not carry out
the promised program.
To-day Arthur WUlert, the very agreeable London
Times correspondent, just arrived, lunched with us, and
we got a view of Mexico from another angle, and a lot
of outside news. Evidently they are pessimistic in
Washington. He comes to tea to-morrow to meet the
McLarens and Von H., to whom he also has a letter.
As Von H. is busy hunting down the perpetrators of the
Puebla outrage, with his own strength and time and
money, he does not see anything couleur de rose, and
WiUert will get nothing cheerful from him.
Saturday we dined at the new British Legation, the
first dinner Hohler has given there. It is reaUy quite
lovely. A dado of Puebla tUes has just been completed
around the haU and stairway, and the large rooms are
sparingly and very decoratively arranged with H.'s
good things, pending the arrival from England of the
government furnishings.
The new houses here are generally horrors; they don't
even build them with patios, and it seems criminal to
shut out of daily life this beauty of light and sky. Many
of the new buildings are almost Hke miniature New
York tenements, with light-shafts only for some of the
rooms. My patio, with its square of heaven, is an abid
ing joy.
A cable came from Prince Festetics, whom we had
congratulated on the occasion of his new title. But it
aU seems a far dream of a far past.
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Luncheon here yesterday — to the Horigutchis, the
Norwegians, Mr. Wilson, of course, and Mr. Bird from
New York. Mr. Bird brought a letter to us, and is down
here in connection with a mining claim that has been
on the Embassy files for nearly twenty years to one
of the richest mines in Mexico. He is accompanied by
a white-bearded, magnetic old gentleman of some
ninety years.
September 13 th.
Last night a huge banquet in honor of the ambassador
given by the leading male American citizens. The
consuls all over Mexico sent telegrams of congratulation,
and Mr. WUson made one of his accustomed polished
and trenchant speeches. Mr. Hudson's toast (he is the
clever editor of the Mexican Herald, that no breakfast
is complete without) was to "Mexico present and
future." It was not more optimistic than the occasion
required, but certainly more so than the actual situation
warrants. He did touch on the most vital question,
as to whether the results of the election wUl be peaceably
accepted by the people, and hoped they would recognize
the necessity of abiding by the result of the polls next
month. All sorts of political shades are appearing. It
isn't just one solid Madero color, as it was four months
ago.
September 15th, morning.
This is Independence Day here, and Heaven alone
knows how Mexico will celebrate it. To-night at the
palace, which I have not yet seen officially, is held the
famous ceremony of the "Grito de Dolores."
September 16th.
Everything quiet in Calle Humboldt. N. has gone
to the Embassy for late work, servants are invisible,
the infant is in the "first sweet dreams of night," and
9 115

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
I can have an hour with you about the celebration
last night, which was most interesting.
I went rather contre gr6. The heavens had been
more than usually lavish with their water-gifts during
the afternoon, and the house was damp and chilly. But
I got into the black velvet with the gray and jet design,
so easy to don, as any black dress should be, and we were
ready when the ambassador came for us.
We passed through the brilliantly Hghted and be-
flagged Avenida San Francisco to the Zocalo, where
an immense crowd was aHeady assembling. Mounted
police were dashing to and fro as we passed under the
"Puerta de Honor," through which the Corps Diplo
matique enters on official occasions. The huge bronze
statue of Benito Juarez, still and shining, caught the
patio lights. I suppose the real Benito was watching the
proceedings also from some angle, up or down, I can't
say. We went up the broad stairway with the handsomest
and reddest of carpets, which AUart said had been
bought for the Centenario celebration. We entered the
Sala de Espera at the top, where our wraps were dis
posed of, under a huge allegorical picture of "La Con-
stituci6n." We then went through a series of reaUy
handsome rooms in the sumptuous style; with their
great proportions and high ceilings they are most im
pressive. Everywhere are hung pictures of their il
lustrious men, who mostly did not die in their beds —
Hidalgo, Morelos, Iturbide, Juarez, Diaz.
At one time I found myself in a huge room, and look
ing down upon me was the delicate, ascetic face of
Hidalgo — " other- worldliness " stamped all over it. The
scroll in his hand, proclaiming independence to Mexico,
the same kind, unfortunately, I should judge, that we
were there to celebrate, testified to the fires consuming
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
him from the earthly furnace of fiberty and regeneration,
in which he dreamed of purifying his nation and his
race. The pictures, however, are mostly more remark
able for their size and the value of their frames than
for their artistic work.
We were received with dignity and ceremony by Presi
dent de la Barra and the members of his Cabinet. But
Madero was the center of attraction as he moved about
with a dreamy, pleased expression, not unduly elated,
however. A sort of simplicity stamps all that he does.
The women were mostly in hats. Their afternoon cos
tumes are apt to be the dressiest. But the Corps Diplo
matique was en grande toilette. We had been wondering,
in absence of notification from the Foreign Office, what
we were to wear, but accepted Hohler's verdict that
"after seven o'clock you can't go wrong in evening
togs." As we stroUed about the handsome rooms a life-
size painting of the German Emperor, given on I don't
know what occasion, was the only European sovereign
we met. There are many fine Chinese vases. In the
red room, they told me, those supporting the candelabra
had belonged to Maximilian, but during viceregal days
much very beautiful Chinese porcelain found its way to
Mexico from the East to the port of Acapulco, and was
brought up to the capital on the backs of Indian runners.
Senor Calero, the very clever Minister of Justice,
took me out to supper. The table was high, and as we
stood instead of sitting at our destined places we were
not too far from our plates.
Calero speaks unmistakable American-English ex
tremely well, with a slight Middle- West twang. He
knows almost aU the things we Anglo-Saxons know, and
some that we don't. Though still in deep mourning,
black studs, cuff -buttons, vest, etc., for his first wife,
117

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
he was accompanied by a pretty, shy bride of two weeks,
who seemed to be very pleased at finding herself stand
ing just across the table from him. I suppose there is
some rule here about wearing black which does not take
into consideration possible early reblossomings. He is
extremely clever, and I fancy very ambitious. However,
as honors, wealth, and power are the natural objects of
human life, why not?
The table was decorated with three splendid sUver
ipergnes, and some very large, fine fruit-dishes, all bear
ing the tragic and imperial crest; though I understood
from Allart that the plate used for the service of the
supper dated from Diaz's time, and was first used when
the famous Pan-American Congress met in Mexico City.
A blaze of light came from the great crystal chan
deliers, and the walls and windows were hung with crim
son brocade. We went through a long menu, with
many courses and appropriate wines. I think no ex
pense was spared. De la B. is used to functions, any
way. Of course, the great moment of the evening was the
ringing of the Independence Bell. The President
stepped out on the little balcony overlooking the Plaza,
a few minutes before midnight, foUowed by Madero,
and voiced the celebrated cry, "Libertad 6 Indepen
dencia," while just above the balcony sounded the
Campana de la Independencia, which Hidalgo rang to
call the patriots together in Dolores on the night of
September 15, 18 10.
Then the great bells of the cathedral rang out, and
cheers and cries came from a crowd of about a hundred
thousand people.
The President asked me to go out on the balcony;
I was the only lady of the American Embassy present,
and I stood there for a few minutes between him and
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Madero and looked down upon those thousands of up
turned faces. I felt the thrill of the crowd. Nameless
emanations o their strange psychology reached me.
But also I was sad, thinking of the impossible which has
been promised them.
Madero was very sUent, but h s hands twitched ner
vously as he gazed out over that human mass he had
come to save. I felt how diverse our thoughts as we
stood looking down on the faces, on that forest of peaked
hats, on police riding down the little avenues which
traced themselves between the crowd. Everything was
orderly. I think Gustave Le Bon could have added an
other chapter to La Psychologie des Foules.

X

The uncertainty of Spanish adverbs — Planchette and the destiny of the
state — Madame Bonilla's watery garden-party — De la Barra's
"moderation committee" — Madero's "reform platform" September 21st.
TO-DAY we go for a farewell lunch at the Austrian
charge's, who is leaving almbst immediately. His
cousin, the new Austrian minister, Riedl von Riedenau,
and his American wife, have arrived and are to have
his house.
I have been out very Httle lately — only to a dinner at
Hohler' s and a luncheon at the Embassy. This is not
a climate where foreigners can put screws on themselves
with impunity. The mornings are indescribably clear-
washed, brilliant, radiant, but the trouble about all this
beauty is that it is too high. Very few resist it d la
longue. I have been reading C. F. Lummis's Spanish Pioneers
— a noble picture of their romantic achievements. I am
sending it. Please keep it with my other Mexicana. I
am also sending Howard's End, this last a history of a
life, to fill a dark afternoon.
I hear Elim, who is picking up a lot of Spanish, re
monstrating with Elena, saying, "No manana, orita!"1
His infant soul has perceived the full significance of the
fatal word manana. Orita, I have discovered, is also
1 Not to-morrow, immediately.
120

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
apt to be foUowed by a maddening wait ; and, in general,
Spanish adverbs of time awaken uneasiness.
September 23d.
Last night there was a big dinner at Von H.'s.at which
I did the maitresse de maison. I wore the pastel-blue
satin with the silver embroidery and the dull-pink
bows. I thought I had ruined it forever in Vienna,
at the French Embassy, when the French ambassador
had his baU of twenty couples only, for the Princesse
de Parme, and I gafiy swept the floor with it during
some hours. GabrieUe, however, who realizes that the
source of gowns is far, has resurrected it.
There was much talk of the great reHance Madero
places on the spirits. It is said that Madame M. goes
into spiritualistic trances, and when in that condition
answers doubtful questions, and that the planchette is
fated to play a rdle in the destiny of the state.
However that may be, there is a most authentic story
of Madero's having consulted the spirits through the
medium of the planchette some years ago. When he
asked what the future had in store for him he was told
that he would one day be President of Mexico. He is
supposed to have arranged his life in conformity to this
prophecy, which put him in a condition of mind where
everything that happened of happy or unhappy augury
bore on the fulfilment of this destiny. It is certainly
one way of coercing fate.
There was an amusing but watery garden-party at
Madame BoniUa's. We found ourselves at one time
sitting under a dripping arbor of white musk-roses in a
rain resembfing a cloudburst. A large lizard fell from
the arbor on to the ambassador's head, and thence into
my lap, and various other zoological specimens were
washed down from time to time. The ambassador,
121

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
immaculately garbed in newly arrived London clothes,
suggested, but rather feebly, the impossible feat of going
home. After everybody's clothes were spoiled, we made
a two-hundred-yard dash to the uninhabited, pictu
resque house, where it speedily got dark. There were no
means of lighting, of course, as the house had not been
lived in since the dear old candle days. The French
minister, so handsome and most carefuUy dressed in
gray, was also perfectly miserable under the arbor, with
the elements at work, though he repeated at intervals,
"Faisons bonne mine a mauvais temps," and recklessly
took what had once been my black tuUe hat, now turned
into a formless thing of gummy consistency, under his
immaculate gray "wing."
The Latins in general, and the French in particular,
don't care about unsuccessful al fresco entertainments.
The volcanoes, as I stood at one of the wide windows,
showed themselves from time to time, in strange rend-
ings of the heavens by narrow threads of Hghtning,
with something frightening and portentous in the aspect
of their red-brown peaks. Above them were great, shift
ing masses of blue-black clouds.
Finally the violence of the storm passed and a
chastened group of picnickers groped their way down
the broad old stairway into the Httle patio, where the
autos were waiting, and we were infolded in some of
those strange shadows that seem to creep up from the
earth rather than descend from the heavens.
I have a lovely photograph of the volcanoes, with a
pine-tree in the foreground, taken from the Bonillas'
place. I am sending it.1
I have just come back from looking up at my starry
square. Unknown constellations are near, but you are
far. Good night. 1 Vide A Diplomat's Wife in Mexico,
122

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
September 25th.
We notice there is a coldness in Maderista quarters
at any praise of President de la B. He is too popular.
He could unite in his person too many factions, old and
new. Even that invisible "smart set" might re-emerge
from Paris or the country. Up to now I have not laid
eyes on a member of what would be known in Vienna
as the erste Gesellschaft, with the exception of young
Manuel Martinez del Campo, who began his diplomatic
career under Diaz and is now Third Introducer of
Ambassadors. De la B. has appointed a "moderation committee."
Its real use, when all is boiled down, is, if possible, to
prevent the various factions from calling one another
names, or even taking one another's lives. I say, "God
bless our home."
General Reyes is very strong in certain quarters. I
liked his eyes, shrewd yet kindly, and his firm hand
clasp, when I met him that time at the British corona
tion housewarming. For some reason, outside the
army he is not popular. The "common people" (I
don't know just what that expression means here) don't
Hke him. With postponement either he or De la B.
might be elected, though De la B. reiterates that he does
not want it. Now the Madero tide is high, and will with
out doubt wash him into the presidency.
September 27th.
Elections in the land of revolution and maguey are
to be held on Sunday. Everybody is wondering how
the people wUl stand the change from the iron hand to
sufragio efectivo.
Just back from lunch at the French Legation. Mr.
Lefaivre is never so happy as when he is offering hos-
pitaUty. Their beautiful old sUver is out, the dining-
123

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
room gUstening with it, priceless dishes and platters
from Madame Lefaivre's family.
The Legation seemed very pleasant when De Vaux
had it, but, of course, many valuable things then packed
away have made their appearance since the minister's
return. Madame Lefaivre returns next month. The
luncheon was for Baron and Baroness Riedl, just ar
rived from Rio de Janeiro, via Paris. They wiU be a
great addition to the "Cuerpo."
Baroness R. had on a dark-blue and white foulard,
smacking of La Ville Lumiere, and a trim, black hat put
on at the right angle. We had a very pleasant lunch.
It is always amusing to put new-comers wise to the
actual situation. Of course, the Simons and ourselves
are almost too bright for daily use. Rio is a place with
many Austro-Hungarian interests, but since the days of
Maxirmlian there has been Httle enthusiasm about
Mexico in the Austro-Hungarian poHtical breast. After
aU these years, nearly half a century, there are under
a thousand of Riedl's nationals in the whole of Mexico.
To-morrow night, dinner at the Brazihan charge's for
the Riedls, and as the other coUeagues foUow with
affairs it wUl all mean quite a little round of gaiety.
I must go to the station to meet dear Mrs. WUson,
who arrives on the eight-o'clock train from Indianapofis,
accompanied by her sister.
September 30th.
Just returned from the Requiem Mass for the five hun
dred sailors and officers of La Libertt. It was most im
pressive, with a great Tricolore unfurled across the
high altar. Nearly all the lost were Bretons, and over
a thousand widows and orphans are weeping. The Mass
was held in the Church of El Colegio de Nifios, on one
of the busiest down-town corners, and which has sur
vived many different tides of life. It is now the ' ' French ' '
124

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
church, served by French clergy, and is clean and orderly,
but dismantled of beauty or treasures.
It dates from Fray Pedro de Gante, one of the great
est of the friars, and I dare say was once full of beautiful
things, now possessed or scattered by tourists, or by
various breeds of revolutionaries. Mexico has been such
a bottomless, inexhaustible source of treasures fashioned
by the genius of Spain.
The poHtical outlook is still very uncertain. Madero,
of course, for President. The vice-presidency between
de la Barra, who does not want it, another man, Vasquez
Gomez, who does want it, and Pino Suarez, the obscure
and evidently not over-popular Maderista candidate
from Yucatan. PersonaUy I shall be most sorry to see
the De la B.s go. They are people of the world. De la
B. is a trained diplomat, and these months of his "In-
terinato"1 have been a "finishing-school" indeed. His
father and mother were ChUians, afterward naturalized
in Mexico.
Crowds parade the streets crying " Pino-no-no-no!"
Why Madero insists on that running-mate we don't
understand. Pino Suarez was an unknown editor of a
Yucatan newspaper before fate beckoned to him, making
hipi first governor of Yucatan, and now pointing him
on to the vice-presidency.
Madero's party, with its banner cry, "No reeleccidn
y sufragio efectivo," is caUed "Progressive Constitutional"
(we couldn't do better at home). His platform, if it
will hold under the weight of virtue and happiness it
bears, is quite wonderful.
To begin with, it re-estabfishes the "dignity of the
Constitution," and there is to be no re-election. The
press is to have its antique shackles struck off, pensions
and indemnities for working-men are to be introduced,
1 Interinato, ad interim presidency.
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and the railways are to be "Mexicanized," which wiU
make travel a bit uncertain for a whUe. Even the
jefes must go.
I couldn't explain, if I would, the real uses of the jefe.
You have to Hve in Mexico to understand even dimly
his attributes. Madero, whom no difficulties daunt,
even tackles the vexed question of the Indians, saying
that he intends to show the same interest in their affairs
as in those pertaining to other shades of Mexicans,
especiaUy in those of the Mayas and the Yaquis, whose
tragic deportations in great groups from hot cfimates to
cold climates, and vice versa, have long been a blot on
the Mexican 'scutcheon. In fact, everything is to be
made over — the judiciary, the army. Foreign relations
are to be founded on brotherly love instead of interest;
a fight is to be waged against alcohoHsm and gambfing;
and there are many other reforms I don't remember
now. Ojald, but it makes me sad!

XI
Election of Madero — The strange similarity between a Mexican election
and a Mexican revolution — The penetrating cold in Mexican houses
— Madame de la Barra's reception — The Volador.
Sunday evening, October ist.
THIS morning we started out in good season for a
Sabbath run, shaking the election dust from our
feet, or rather wheels, skimming out through the shin
ing city, which yesterday afternoon had had what may
be its last good bath till next June.
We went out the broad Tlalpan road, black with
motors full of golfers, and when we got to a place called
Tepepa began the magic ascent of the Ajusco hiUs
between us and Cuemavaca, with a continual looking
back. For at our feet was spread the lovely "vale of
Anahuac," like some kingdom laid out in a great chart
of emerald, turquoise, and jasper.
An unexpected rain-cloud was threatening from over
the western hills, and across the valley columns of light
and shade continually passed and repassed. Every dome
and spire of the city shone, but the hill of Chapultepec
was black, distinct, and solitary, only the castle a white
point. At one moment we found ourselves hanging over
the lovely lake of Xochirmlco, with its green, lush, sweet-
water shores, and the verdant band of the lake of Chalco
showed itself separated from the barren white tequesquite
shores of LakeTexcoco only by a narrow strip of roadway.
The two Penones and the hill of Guadalupe were
sometimes dark and sometimes shining, and a far-off
127

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
fringe of sapphire hills marked the vaUey's end. It was
"Jerusalem the Golden," well worth sighing for.
At a place called Topilejo we found a church on a
hillock by the side of the road, its large atrium up a
row of grassy steps, entered by an old carved archway.
Looking through it, we saw a strange sort of festival
going on, having a decided Moorish touch.
What seemed to be kings were seated in a row of rush-
bottomed stools. Gaudy crowns of gfided cardboard,
or something stiff and glittering, crowned them, and
about them were flung twisted capes, Hke the Arab
burnoose, with the hood faUing back. The play was
proceeding con mucha calma except for a large Indian,
evidently "stage manager," who was trying to bring
about some sort of denouement. Behind was the open
church door. It was about twelve o'clock, and the last
Mass had been said. A melancholy chanting proceeded
from some Indians, their hands tied together, who stood
in front of the "kings." It was all strange and unex
pected on those heights.
The vUlage on the other side of the road was in the
sneezing and coughing throes of one of the bronchial
epidemics so common in cold or damp weather in the
hills. The children were scarcely covered; I can't bear
to think of all the little brown backs and thighs in these
cold waves. A dreadful, unrestrained-appearing person,
in a battered hat and warm red zarape, looking as if he
might have been the "father" of the viUage, towered
above them all, everything about him bespeaking pulque.
We decided that "song" was what he had given up.
Silent Indians, carboneros, inhabit these parts, and
their fires could be seen high up on the wooded mountain
sides. They were coming and going, bent, and almost
hidden under great sacks of charcoal. We sped on till
we got to a place called La Cima, the highest point,
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
whence I wanted to make a dash for Cuemavaca, in
spite of brigands, but the gentlemen and the chauffeur
decided against it. Here was a huge stone cross, La Cruz
del Marques; solitary and moss-grown, it stiU stands,
marking the boundary of lands once granted to Cortes
by the crown, where he passed on the venturesome
march to Mexico City from Cuemavaca.
I indulged my passion for Cortes by walking around
the historic cross and picking an unfamiHar scarlet
flower, whUe the men worried about Zapata and his
brigand host, to whom these lulls belong in 191 1.
After some parleying we turned back. But beyond
the hiUs lay the Hot Country, full to the south, its mys
terious valleys filled with gorgeous blossoms, where
vanilla, myrtle, jalap, cocoa, and smilax grow. Four
hours down would have brought us into the fullness of
its beauty, to lovely Cuemavaca, once the haunt of
kings and emperors, where Cortes pondered on the
insecurity of princely favor and planned his expedition
to the Mar del Sur.1 Now it is the capital of Zapata,
and shunned since a few months by anybody with
anything on his person or anything negotiable in the
shape of worldly station. A great bore. My senti
ments were aU for pressing on with the added thrill of
danger. The roads here, with the history of Spain cut into
them, and Indian life flowing ceaselessly over them
from sea to sea, from north to south, are inexpressibly
appealing. They are like a string, holding the beads
of Mexican Hfe together, and what ' ' a rosary of the road ' '
the glories and sorrows of their history would make!
I don't feel the literary call, however. My life is run
in another mold. But I have undergone a violent and
probably permanent impression of this race, this coun-
1 Gulf of California.
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
try — its past, its present, its uncertain future, and oh,
its beauty!
October 3d.
You can't tell an election from a revolution here. It's
all lively to a degree. I have now seen both.
Madero has been duly elected, and the streets rang
all night to vivas for him. Groups were passing con
tinually up and down the Paseo, spUling into CaUe Hum
boldt. Many students were among them and Latin-
American youth seemed at its noisiest. There were
some decided expressions of other political opinions,
voiced largely in the now accustomed sound of Pino-
no-no-no, but the Madero tide will doubtless wash him
into the vice-presidency. It's quite irresistible.
Madame de la B. was among my callers to-day, smiling
and handsomely gowned in a new French dress. Of
course, she gave no hint of what she thinks about the
situation. She and her husband go abroad after Madero's
inauguration, now set for November 20th. The Presi
dent is finally to take the thanks of the Mexican govern
ment to the King of Italy for the special mission sent to
represent him at the Centenario of 19 10 — which seems
as remote as the landing of Cortes.
There is no provision for heating in any of the houses
here. They tell me that in December and January, if
a norte is blowing at Vera Cruz, one is almost congealed
in Mexico City.
Even now the late afternoons and evenings are cold,
but there is a glorious warm sun every day tiU the
afternoon rains begin, and aU the Indians in the city,
come out from qutin sabe where, are warming and drying
themselves on curb and bench and against sunny waUs
all over town. I suppose it is the only moment of com
fort they have. Often now, instead of rain, there is
130

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the most gorgeous banking of heavy, dark clouds, with
hints of orange, red, and purple linings.
October $(h.
Just returned from Madame de la B.'s reception. She
does the "first lady in the land" very well. The Presi
dent came in later, to the sound of the national anthem.
He is of infinite tact in these strange days. He was clad,
as usual, in an immaculate gray frock-coat, and showed
no trace of the Procrustean bed he sleeps in. All his
Cabinet were there and the Corps Diplomatique, and
several well-set-up competent brothers, who, doubtless,
wiU get some sort of foreign post. After all, I am rather
a befiever in nepotism, not too exaggerated. But if one
does not do for one's own, who will?
De la Barra has been a sort of suspension-bridge be
tween Diaz and Madero, and that he and the republic
are still "suspended" is testimony indeed. The dis
banding of the famous Liberating Army, financially
and morally, continues to be the great difficulty, as from
it have sprung all these flowers of banditry whose roots
lie too deep, apparently, for plucking.
I met, at the reception, Don Alberto Garcia Granados,
an elderly man of long political experience, with a clever,
perspicacious look, accentuated by deep lines above the
prominent brows, showing that his eyes had often been
raised in surprise or remonstrance. He is a great friend
of De la Barra, and resembles statesmen I have met
in other climes. He is now Minister of Gobernaci6n
(Interior).1 I had a luncheon to-day for Mrs. Wilson and her sister,
1 The final fate of Don Alberto Garcfa Granados, also Minister of
Gobernaci6n in Madero's Cabinet, was to be taken by Carranzistas to
the Escuela de Tir and there shot. He was ill in bed when the summons
came, and it is recorded that he was given salt injections and tied to a
post to make it possible for him to stand before the firing-squad, which
achieved the death of the aged statesman only after several volleys.
10 131

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mrs. Collins, who look very weU together — handsome,
slim-figured, smaU-footed, carefuUy dressed women. The
table was reaUy charming, with heaps of yeUow chrys
anthemums. The dining-room is sun-flooded, flower-
vistaed whichever way you look, and its pale-yellow
walls, and good old pieces of porcelain in handsome
old cabinets, and fine old engravings on the waU, aU
picked up as occasion offered by the Seegers during
their long Mexican years, take the light most charmingly.
Baroness Riedl, Madame Lie, Madame Chermont,
and some American friends, Mrs. McLaren, Mrs. KU-
vert, and Mrs. Harwood made up the guests. There
are several menus that the cook produces very well, and
Elena and Cecilia serve quietly and quickly, in neat
black dresses, white aprons, cuffs, and collars.
Some vigilance is needed as to their coUars. They
loathe them in their souls, being of the casual, rebozo
race, after all, and though they bow to this especial in
evitable, I imagine it comes hard.
I don't often penetrate to the kitchen regions; I
couldn't change anything if I wanted to, and I am
not endowed with culinary talents. But I did see, as I
passed through not long ago, fish being brofied on the
beloved brasero, which the cook was fanning with the
beloved turkey wing.
One can't change the washing processes, either. Some
time ago Gabrielle noted holes appearing in aU our new
Hnen. I told her to investigate and let me know the
result, which she did. I then ascended to the roof from
which all creation, lovely Mexican creation, is stretched
out to view, and the Hnen floats in the purest, bluest
ether. I found the two washerwomen sitting on their haunches,
pounding and rubbing the linen between stones. I let
them know I thought washboards were what the situa-
132

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
tion required, but no signs of enthusiasm were visible.
They told me, with an air of complete finafity, es el sol
(it is the sun), when I pointed out various and obvious
signs of damage.
Just sent off an Atlantic Monthly with a most interest
ing contribution, "Within the Pale," by a young Russian
Jewess, Mary Antin. I haven't been seeing the Atlantic
for some years and I am glad they keep their good old
historic cover instead of allowing themselves to be
seduced by art nouveau, with the usual dreadful
consequences. Elim is cfimbing all over me as I write. He has
been promised a cat by the drug-store clerk, but, fort
unately, there has been some hitch in the proceedings.
You know my feelings toward the felines. Efim can
fling the quien sabes and the mananas with the best of
them, and evidently takes in Spanish through the pores ;
he is very little or not at all with the Mexican servants.
He told me the other day that he could count better
in Spanish than in Engfish, and when I asked him to
show me he did very well up to four, which he replaced
by the word "pulque," getting quite argumentative. I
thought it worth while to investigate the intricacies of
the infant mind. I find four is simply the magic hour
when the cook leans over the railing and sings out
"pulque" to caU the expectant concierge contingent up
stairs, for its afternoon refreshment, as fixed as the
laws that govern the hours. Saturday noon.
Just home from the volador (thieves' market), with
"goods" upon me. Toward the end of the week it gets
increasingly aromatic, as it is only swept and garnished
Saturday afternoon, and it is traditional and expedient
for the foreigner to patronize it on the Sabbath rather
than other days. But having been to "La Joya," a very
i33

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
nice and expensive antique-shop in the Avenida San
Francisco, where I got a frame of dark wood with ivory
inlay, just the size for my Ravell photograph of the
Church at Guanajuato, also a love of a little tortoise-
shell petaca (miniature valise) with silver clampings, I
thought to strike an average in prices at the volador,
where the sun was shining briUiantly on purely Indian
commercial life.
The "commerce" consisted more than usual, it seemed
to me, of the refuse of ages, coUected under irregular
rows of booths, canvas- or board-covered, or simply
piled on spaces marked out on the uncomfortable, hot
cobblestones. It aU covers what once was the site of
the new Palace of Montezuma, and is named volador
after a sort of Aztec gymnastic game. For a long time
it belonged to the heirs of Cortes, from whom the city
finally bought it, and it is close behind the Palacio.
As I entered the gate there was the usual coUection
of Indians of aU sizes and colors, but with the same
destinies. Many were passing by with their huacales
(crates) filled with bananas and oranges and various
green things, for near by is the great fruit-market of the
city. Some women were selling long plaited strings of
onions, and by the gate was standing a superior-looking
individual with a stick twice as high as himself, on which
were stuck white, pink, and blue toy birds.
Instead of abandoning hope as one goes through these
portals, one finds oneself immensely expectant, one's
eyes darting hither and thither in search of treasure, the
eternal something for nothing!
Mexico is called the land of the sombrero (hat), but
when I go to the volador I feel it should be caUed the
land of the candlestick. There are so many candle
sticks in every variety of shape and kind, and occa
sionally of great beauty. i34

ELIM O SHAUGHNESSY,
MEXICO, JUNE, 191 1

MADAME LEFAIVRE, WIFE OF THE FRENCH
MINISTER TO MEXICO, IQII

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
I was made "perfectly" happy by the discovery of
two tiny bronze braseros, somewhat in the form of Roman
lamps — such as were filled with coals and placed on
tables to Hght cigarettes from in the old days. I also got
a large engraved pulque-glass, most lovely for flowers.
At one booth an experienced vendeuse pulled from her
rebozoed bosom a smaU velvet case, containing a brooch
of flat, uncut diamonds; but as, at the same time, I
distinctly saw spring from that abode of treasure a very
large specimen of the flea famUy, I came home without
investigating further.
I have some beautiful books on Mexico which have
been given me by various people — mostly large, heavy
books, — Lumholz's Unknown Mexico, and Starr's Indian
Mexico are the last, — or I would send them, that you
might share more completely my Mexican etape. It
has been a strange summer, taking it all in all.
Madero probably comes in on the ioth of November.
It makes one's head swim to think of the mighty changes
that are taking place aU over the world. Haughty old
China a republic! — and Mexico to be governed solely
by brotherly love! And a free press and nobody to
desire to continue in office ! In other words, all to resign
and many to die.
In church to-day the beautiful blue bag you gave me
was stolen. I remember two women in deep mourning,
black rebozos twisted about their heads, kneeling devoutly
in the pew just behind me. The theft must have occurred
at the moment of the "elevation," because when I rose
from my knees both the bag and the black-robed devo
tees had disappeared. I had, fortunately, just left the
Louis XV. watch at the jewelers', or that, too, would
have gone.
Madame Lefaivre returned several days ago after a
mouvemente' trip, as the Espagne went on the rocks at
i35

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Santander. Mr. Seeger gave a little dSjeuner for her at
the Auto Club. The day was heavenly, and the sky as
clean as if it had been pounded between the stones the
washerwomen use on my roof. Everything was at its
greenest. After the season of rains the flowers, the grass, the
trees, emerge as if new-born. I felt, sitting on the ter
race of the club, on the border of the little artificial lake,
as if I were in a loge at the theater, as if the scene might
at any moment be shifted, the black and white swans
be removed, the water turned off, ourselves go off the
stage, leaving only the changeless background of beauti
ful hills and diamond-powdered volcanoes.
I Hke Madame Lefaivre so much, tres dame du monde.
The usual banalities of the carriere having gone through
with, I feel sure we'U soon begin the regular business of
friendship. She had on a pale-gray dress, which toned
in with her gray hair and fresh complexion. She and
Mr. Lefaivre were engaged for nearly fifteen years be
fore Hfe cleared itself sufficiently of obstacles, of one kind
or another, for them to marry.
De la Barra sails the 23d of next month for Italy. I
think it illustrative of his tact and good wiU to subtract
himself completely from the very compficated situation,
and to let his intention be known beforehand and reck
oned with. Madame de la B. receives for the last time
on Thursday next. In the evening there is a dinner at
the Embassy, and on , Saturday the German minister
gives one of his big dinners. This seems aU very simple,
even banal, but few things are simple and nothing banal
when played out against a Mexican background. October 2gth.
The poHtical miUs here are grinding fast, and not
particularly fine. The Minister of War has been
136

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
impeached, and President de la B. is resigning, not even
waiting tiU the legal term of office (November 30th)
expires.
Nightly, crowds continue to parade the streets, singing,
"Pino-no-no-no," though "Pino" has been duly elected
Vice-President according to the "angelical returns from
that temple of Hberty and love, the poUing-box," as one
of the unconvinced deputies called the process.
Zapata has been at the gates of the city and, with
eight hundred men, allowed to pillage near-by towns.
Indeed, there has been a public outcry against the
suspicious vitality of the Zapata movement. There are
those who say that the "Attila of the South" and the
President-elect are muy amigo, and that if that General
Huerta I wrote of had a really free hand he would, with
his energetic methods, have long since solved that special
problem. The Minister of War, Gonzalez Salas, has stirred up a
hornet's nest by saying that in three days after becoming
President Madero would strangle the Zapata movement.
Of course the clever deputies — and there are many of
them — are clamoring to know what is the divine word,
the sesamo supremo, that he can pronounce to suddenly
put an end to the horrors of banditry, and if there is
such a word, why it wasn't pronounced earlier.
The inauguration is now set for the 6th. It has been
whispered that it wouldn't be wise to wait. One of the
deputies, in his harangue against Zapata and the pos
sible high protection he enjoys, winds up a decidedly dis
enchanted speech, as far as Madero is concerned, by
crying, "Robespierre" (meaning the "Apostle"), "re
member that Danton also was popular!" Maderistas
and Pinistas, Reyistas, Vazquistas, Zapatistas say what
they like about one another, and it certainly gives the
foreigner an idea of the riches of Spanish epithet.
i37

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Those two children of democracy, "freedom of the
press" and "no re-election," have seen the light of day
with infinite difficulty in various parts of South America.
To be present at their first struggling breaths in Mexico
is most instructing. I must say they seem to be babies
of the noisy, wakeful sort, and don't care who or what
they disturb.
A diplomatic dinner is announced at the Foreign Office
for Sunday, the fifth of November.
Elim is waiting to blot bonne maman's letter, so I must
close. He is clasping the famous cow Mrs. Townsend
gave him two years ago. It has resisted all assaults, all
displacements, and is still the best beloved. Three hoofs,
a horn, and all its trappings are gone, but it is still a
"fine animal." He has just said, "I am so glad on my
mama," so you see his English is progressing. We have
come from a morning walk in beautiful Chapultepec
park with Baroness R. He loves to pick the wild flow
ers or run over the grass with his butterfly-net. The
whole park is a garden of children as well as green things.
Yesterday a considerable portion of the festive Corps
Diplomatique, in its European branches, was poisoned
with mushrooms at the  Legation. Reports began
to come in, disquieting at first ; but it became a scream
ing farce when it was discovered that no one was going
to die, except probably the galopina at the aforesaid
Legation. I am sending a post-card to-day of the Hotel del Jardin.
As you will see, it is a place for a lot of "local color."
Unfortunately they are building over half the old garden
with newfangled high constructions. Sir Fairfax Cart-
wright 1 stopped there ten years ago. With its big rooms
opening on the veranda facing the garden, it was, in the
old days, the favorite resting-spot of travelers and
1 British ambassador to Vienna at the time of writing.
138

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
arriving diplomats, and a vast improvement on the color
less, uncomfortable, "modern" hotels which spring up
like mushrooms, and are about as permanent. At the
Hotel del Jardin the cozy fashion still prevails of having
the partitions between the bedrooms reach up only half
way. But the old order is certainly changing. In what
was once the vast area of the Franciscan church and
monastery, built by Fray Pedro de Gante, where schools
flourished, and councils took place during several hun
dred years, now arise great, steel-framed office-buildings
on the "American plan."
In the old days the Church of San Francisco was
entered from the street of San Juan de Letran, in which
the Hotel del Jardin is. The monastery, seminaries, etc. ,
were suppressed, in 1856, by Comonfort. Since then the
ground has been steadily cut up into streets and for city
buildings, untU only the Church of San Francisco itself
remains, with its perfectly charming facade, entered
immediately from the busy Avenida San Francisco,
through a little palm-planted garden with a broad, flag-
stoned walk. It was once the most important church in
Mexico, but now its large spaces are empty of treasures
and worshipers, and the strong light coming through
the lantern of the dome shines in on bare waUs. The
tide of worship of our day sets to San Felipe next door.
Cortes heard mass in San Francisco, it is said, and there
his bones were laid in 1629, the date of the splendid
interment of his last descendant, Don Pedro Cortes.
This was the occasion of a gorgeous military and
religious procession headed by the Archbishop of Mexico.
The coffin containing the Conqueror's body was en
veloped in a great black- vel vet pall, borne by the judges
of the royal tribunal. On either side was a man in a
suit of mail. One bore a banner of sable velvet, on which
139

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
was blazoned the escutcheon of Cortes. The other car
ried a standard of shining white, with the arms of CastUe
in gold. The viceroy and the members of his court fol
lowed, in splendid array, with an escort of soldiers, their
arms reversed and banners traiHng, all moving to the
beat of muffled drums.
In 1794, the body of Cortes was removed to the
hospital of Jesus Nazareno, one of his foundations, in a
crystal case with crossbars and rivetings of sUver, also in
solemn state, under the greatest of the viceroys, ReviUa-
gigedo. In Cortes's most interesting and very human wiU he
had ordered that wherever he might die, his body was
to be laid to final rest in the convent at his beloved
Coyoacan. His bare bones, however, seem as restless as
when clothed with living flesh, and after 'his death in
Spain, when his remains were brought back to Mexico,
the authorities placed them first in the Church of San
Francisco at Texcoco, where his mother and one of his
daughters lay. Now there is no certain record of their
resting-place. Does not romance and tragedy hang
about it all?
A long letter comes from Marget Oberndorff. Her
husband has just been appointed to Norway, and they
are thankful to be in Europe for their first ministry.

XII
Dia de Muertos — Indian booths — President de la Barra relinquishes
his high office — Dinner at the Foreign Office — Historic Mexican
streets — Madero takes the oath Dia de Muertos, November 2d.
THE black-hung churches and the streets are full of
those mindful of their dead. I, too, of my ' ' dead in
life" as weU, thinking how of such are the Kingdom of
Heaven. I went to the Httle Church of Corpus Cristi, opposite
the Alameda, walking through the booths the Indians
have spread there since generations, during three days
at this season. It's all as picturesque and busy as possi
ble, and of an informality as regards family Hfe.
I bought some really lovely baskets, and a bright-
eyed little Indian boy, belonging to some dull-eyed
parents, took home for me a lot of the fragile pottery.
Some of it is very decorative — soft grays with red and
black designs, poHshed greens with flowers in two tints,
and a black-lustered ware with ornamentations of scrolls
and figures. I selected quite a menagerie of tiny animals,
very perfectly modeled in clay and brittle to a degree, as
passing as the hands that made them.
There were "toys" in the shape of small coffins, black
or white, skeletons, devils of various frightfulness, even
funeral cars in miniature. At one corner, as a last touch
of memento mori, an Indian was offering candy coffins,
which seemed to have quite a run.
141

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
I am writing at the Country Club, which is a most
lovely spot at all times, but now is wrapped in a con
tinual, superlative Indian summer. Elim said to me the
first thing this morning, "Oh, I do love dat gontry
clove," so here I am with him. He met me with Gabrielle,
outside of the Church of Corpus Cristi, on the Alameda.
That church has a curious history. Though now
shrunken and tawdry, it was one of the most important
and gorgeous in the viceregal days, and had a convent
attached to it for Indian maidens of patrician birth.
There is an old memorial over the door recording that
it was inaugurated under the 36th viceroy, Don Baltazar
de Zufiiga, for the daughters of Christian caciques alone.
For the ceremonial of the taking of the veU the most
gorgeous of Indian costumes were worn — feather-work
mantles, aigrettes sewn with pearls and emeralds, and
underneath-wrappings of fine cotton.
Now the treasures of the convent are dissipated to
the four winds, and as for the patrician maidens, ou sont
les roses d'Antan? The only thing of interest remaining
in the church is an old copy of a picture of Nuestra Senora
del Sagrario, from the Toledo Cathedral, supposed to
have been taken to the Rio Grande by the venturesome
hidalgo, Juan de Onate, being brought back to Mexico
City only after a couple of centuries of travel and
vicissitude. The veranda of the club-house looks toward the
shining volcanoes and the blue, blue hills, their beauty
indescribably enhanced, seen through the brilliant glass
like air. The house itself, in the Spanish-mission style,
is very fine, and the links the most beautiful of many I
have watched and waited on. There are eighteen holes,
with a favorite "nineteenth" in the cantina. Some of
the mounds over which the golfers play are the graves
of those who fell in 1847. General Scott approached
142

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the capital from Vera Cruz by way of Puebla, and there
was a big battle on what is now the golf links, then the
Hacienda de la Natividad, and the near-by church and
monastery of Churubusco. There is, facing the very
colorful and interesting old monastery, built by the
Franciscans in the seventeenth century, a colorless, unin
teresting monument, put up by President Comonfort
in memory of the Mexicans who lost their lives here, and
there are occasional ceremonies "in memoriam" by a
grateful country.
November 3d.
Yesterday I ended by staying at the club all day and
having dinner there. EHm was taken home, and N. came
out after chancery hours. It was a beautiful and peaceful
day, and we drove back about nine o'clock, under a
young moon. As we got into town, there seemed more
than the usual number of little booths, dimly lighted
by small hanging lanterns, the owners and their progeny
sitting about.
How large families can live on the proceeds of these
small stands is a mystery. Everything is dust -covered,
handled and rehandled, cut into small bits and then into
still smaller ones. I always marvel at the self-restraint
that prevents the Indians from falling on their own
goods and devouring them.
One drives over what was once an Aztec causeway,
through a squalid suburb, San Antonio de Abad, to get
back into town, where the day of the dead was celebrated
by an unusually Hvely attendance at the pulque-shops.
That licor divino had so incapacitated an Indian ly
ing on the road that we nearly lost our lives in the
sudden swerve the chauffeur made to avoid running
over him.
There are numberless accidents to Indians, falling on
the third rafi of the tramways running out the Tlalpan
i43

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
road, though it is wired off. When you look into the
awful pink and blue dens, and smell the still more awful
smell of the licor divino, and see the Indians saddened
and melancholy, or suddenly wild and completely irre
sponsible, coming out of La Encantadora, Las Emociones,
or El Hombre Perdido,1 you realize that the maguey is,
indeed, bound up with the destiny of the Mexican nation.
As we passed through the Calle de Flamencos, the
celebrated palace of the Conde de Santiago seemed once
more splendid, rising above the squalor of the pulque-
shops. It was built by a cousin of Cortes, immediately
after the Conquest, in what was then a noble quarter
of the town. Later, when the Conde de Santiago bought
it, he surrounded it by a beautiful park, known as the
Parque del Conde. Now in the great courtyard, alas!
only merchandise of a tenth-rate quafity is stored and
old trucks encumber and disfigure it. There is a ma
jestic stairway, seen through a wide, carved entrance
still possessing its antique wooden doors of some won
derful resisting wood from the Hot Country. The roof-
line is just as good as the rest, for great stone gargoyles,
representing half-cannon, show themselves against the
sky. There is a huge Aztec corner-stone of a single
piece, representing a tiger, which tradition says was
placed there by Cortes himseff. It is the sort of house
the government ought to buy; in this dry climate,
properly preserved, it would be good for a thousand
years.2 November 5th.
Yesterday an event unique in the troubled political
history of Mexico took place. President de la Barra
1 The Enchantress. The Emotions. The Lost Man.
2 The Casa de Manrique in the Calle Donceles is another example of old
seigniorial houses. It belonged to the Conde de Heras, and was built
late in the seventeenth century. Now, alas, it is the office of the Wells
Fargo Express Co., but there is a note of protesting splendor about it.
144

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
calmly read the report of his incumbency before the
Chamber of Deputies and as calmly refinquished his
high office.
About five o'clock I drove down the Avenida San
Francisco, already briUiantly illuminated, though great
bands of red stUl hung in the sky behind Chapultepec.
The crowd was immense, the streets flagged, and there
were squads of mounted police keeping order, and sounds
of drum and clarion. Shouts of, "Viva de la Barra,"
"Viva el Presidente Blanco," mingled with various
expressions of satisfaction, not unmixed, I imagine,
with surprise, that the high power could be relinquished
in so orderly a manner, and that a President could or
would give accounting of his office. A hint of the
mUlennium.
November 5th, 10.30.
We are just home from the big dinner offered to-night
by Carbajal y Rosas to the members of the Corps Diplo
matique and contiguous Mexican officials. The Foreign
Office is, as you know, in the Plaza at the head of our
street, and it was a blaze of light as we approached.
The music of a magnificent rnilitary band in gala
uniform — the Mexican brass is most inspiring — was
echoing through the patio and haUs as we went up the
broad stairs, flower- and palm-banked and covered with
a thick, red carpet, into the big rooms on the first floor
overlooking the Plaza.
Here the various officials, according to their rank,
have their offices — handsome rooms, with large pieces
of Louis XV. furniture done up in blue and gold, and
some paintings of Juarez, Diaz, and others. It was
almost too brilfiantly illuminated, with great festoons of
green and white and red electric bulbs, in addition to
the usual lighting. All were out in their bravest. Mrs.
Wilson had on a white-and-gold satin gown, that she
i4S

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
had worn at court in Brussels, and I wore the pink-velvet
brocade I had for the Buda-Pesth court ball.
This sounds very magnificent, but when the time came
to move into the banqueting-room and a personage
much more richly gowned than any of us dream of being
approached to give me his arm, a grin overspread the
faces of the chers collegues near by. It was the Chinese
minister, in the most beautiful lavender-and-gold cos
tume I have ever seen. Useless to compete with the
Celestials, when they are really in form. On his gor
geous arm, feeling decidedly diminished, I went to the
great front hall where a long, narrow banquet-table was
spread. Some official, a small, dark, youngish man, who
did not speak English, or French, or German, or any
thing in which I could lightly communicate, was on the
other side.
I had a chance to "choose" between Spanish or
Chinese, and, being under the necessity of saying some
thing, began with my Mexican friend about the weather,
which you get through with quickly here at this season
when it is always fine. Then the conversation got onto
the usual subject of ninos (children). He said, with the
air of one not having yet abandoned hope, that he had
only nine. I asked, thoughtlessly, what was the distance
between their ages, and he answered, quite simply: "El
tiempo regular" — ten months."
After the repast, which began with boucMes Rom
anoff and finished with coupe's d la Br&silienne, touching
delicately at other international points, there was more
or less talking, with presentations to various persons of
the incoming regime — surprised-looking ladies in high-
necked gowns, and eager-looking men. We disbanded
about ten o'clock to the sound of more really gorgeous
martial music echoing through the big patio, stepping
across the plaza to our house in a great flood of moon-
146

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
light. The ' ' Iron Horse, " the bronze equestrian statue of
Charles IV., giving the note of other times and other
rulers, was shining with a dim radiance. Humboldt
found it in the Plaza Mayor in 1803, vis-a-vis the cathe
dral and the palace of the viceroys, set in a large space
paved in squares of porphyry, inclosed by a richly orna
mented, bronze-gflt railing and placed on a pedestal of
Mexican marble. Thirty-five years afterward Madame
Calderon de la Barca, in 1838, found it in the court
yard of the university. Now I find it in the Plaza de
la Reforma, and an excellent spot it is, if they will only
leave it there, instead of trotting it about the town. It
is placed where one can see Chapultepec Castle at the
end of the Paseo, where one can look down the broad
Calle Bucarefi — stiU named after that enlightened viceroy
(they periodically change the names of the streets here),
and which in its day was one of the most beautiful
avenues in the city, having a large fountain, with a gilt
statue, where now we have a very ugly clock-tower on
artificial stucco stones. The whole street was planted
with beautiful trees, which modern claptrappy houses
have crowded out. It now ends in the dusty, trolley-
laid, modern avenue of Chapultepec.
The CaUe de Rosales, a short street of handsome
dwellings mostly of the epoch of Calle Humboldt, gives
another vista looking toward San Fernando and San
Hipolito; down stiU another one can see the iron frame
of the new Palacio Legislativo, planned to cost ten
mUHon pesos. Work has lagged on it since the Diaz
government was overthrown, and experts are beginning
to say that the great iron frame, so long exposed to rain
and air, is corroding.
Now I must put out my light, a poor thing, anyway.
There is a shaft of moonlight on the waU, a "purest ray
serene," that shames it.
11 i47

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
November 6th, Inauguration Day.
Just home from the Camara, where Madero took his
oath of office. Immense crowds were thickly formed
about the building, and among the vivas for Madero
were growls, here and there, of "Abajo los gringos."1
A few mounted rurales only were out, the "Messiah of
the peons" having put the crowd on its honor.
I went with Mrs. Wilson in the Embassy motor, which
came back for us after having deposited the ambassador
and his staff at the Palace in evening clothes, where the
gentlemen of the Corps Diplomatique were assembled to
take leave of President de la Barra before coming on
for the inaugural ceremonies at the Chamber.
We arrived on the scene to find the Httle plaza in front
of the Chamber solidly packed, and the steps leading to
the doors presenting a conglomeration of peaked hats
and zarapes, interposed with black coats and "derbys."
We finally got out of the motor at a side door, to the
sound of more "abajos," and once within, it reaUy
seemed very comfortable to be sheltered from the noise
and the various potentialities of the crowd.
A big, solemn-faced Indian growled, "abajo," as I
tripped from the motor, but when I answered him, ' ' Viva
Mexico," his face lighted up in a most friendly way.
They need so little to change their moods, and that is
one of the dangers here. The wife of the Japanese
minister said she had to fight her way in. Her sleeve
was torn and her hair dishevelled, and she looked as if
she had given battle.
A door, wide open, led from the room where the Corps
Diplomatique laid off their wraps, into a very large one, the
office of the Protocol, where there were great sealed bundles
of baUots bearing the postmarks of the towns whence they
had been shipped — unopened, uncounted, intact.
1 Down with the gringos.
148

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
It appears the "counters" got discouraged early in
the game; there were so many ballots having no con
nection with 191 1, such as that of Hidalgo (executed in
181 1), Benito Juarez (dead in his bed in 1872), and
unknown names of various jefes politicos in various
remote places, with an occasional bit of unexpected color
appearing in the way of remembrances of favorite
buU-fighters. Well, Madero, the man of promises, is President of
Mexico, and what difficulties lie before him! After
taking his oath, in a firm voice, he ended the speech
which foUowed, rather suddenly, by saying if he did not
keep his promises they could send him away.
The extreme pallor of his face was accented by his
pointed, black beard, already the delight of the cari
caturists, but his mien was grave and his gestures were
unusually few. Across his breast was the red, white, and
green sash, the visible sign of the dream come true.
I could not but ask myself, as I looked about the vast
assemblage and heard the roar of the Indian throngs
outside, what have they had to prepare themselves for
political liberty after our pattern? But then, you know,
I have always had a natural inclination for the strong
hand and one head. L'appttit vient en mangeant, and a
taste for revolutions may be like a taste for anything
else. Many of these millions have nothing to lose, and
hope, mixed with desire, is rampant during the periods
of upheavals.
Some sort of a new day is rising in Mexico, but
Madero would seem to be President, not because he is
a good and honest man and a well-wisher to all, but
simply because he is a successful revolutionary leader,
and what has been can be. There was, however, a
general effect of everybody patting himself on the back.
Were they not seeing, for the first time in their history,
149

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the high power relinquished without bloodshed? I
fancy they felt quite like "folks" as the "Presidente
Blanco" gave it over to the Apdstol with nothing
redder and warmer than a handshake.
The town was brilliant under the perfect sky, and the
green-and-white-and-red flag of the Tres Garantias
(Three Guarantees) waved from every buUding. It
bears within its folds the history of Mexico since its
adoption in 1823. The white represents religious purity,
red symbolizes the union of Mexicans and Spaniards in
the bonds of brotherly love, and green is for independence.
Iturbide's army was called "the army of the Tres
Garantias," the colors then running horizontally from
the staff. After Iturbide was shot they changed the
stripes to the present vertical arrangement. From my
rather cursory glance at Mexican history it would seem
that governments have always come into power here
through revolutions. It seems the normal thing, the
inevitable, preordained way for men to come into power,
but, that being the case, they ought to take it a Httle
more quietly. Of course, for a pure Aryan Hke myself
it's startling, it's disconcerting to a degree!1
November 7th.
Late yesterday afternoon ex-President de la Barra,
accompanied by his family and the staff of his mission,
left for Vera Cruz to take La Champagne for France, en
route to Rome. There was a great demonstration at his
departure. The Corps Diplomatique was out in fuU
force, and all Mexico besides, it seemed, as we got down
to the station, around which mounted soldiery with
1 Every government, since the days of the viceroys, appointed in
exorably but quietly from Spain, has come into power like the govern
ment of Huerta or Madero or Diaz, through a revolution by a military
coup. No foreign ruler till our day thought it a reason for bringing
the whole nation to ruin. ISO

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
difficulty kept a free space, pressing the crowd back to
let in the carriages and motors, one by one.
The most interesting thing about it all, to me, was
the group that at one time formed itseff on the rear
platform of the special train — President Madero, ex-
President de la Barra, and Orozco, the military genius
of the moment, the type of the trio so distinct as they
stood there. Orozco is a very tall man, head and
shoulders over the other two, the northern Mexico
ranchero type — prominent nose, high cheek bones, with
a dark mustache that doesn't at all conceal a cruel,
determined mouth.
De la Barra, international, immaculately dressed,
suave, smUing, was entirely the diplomat departing on
a special mission, showing no trace of the difficult and
anxious months of office.
Between these two stood the President of but a few
hours, with his broad, high, speculative forehead, his
dreamy, impractical eyes and kindly smile — "one man
with a dream at pleasure."
Madero is naturally generous toward his enemies, of
which the crops, however, hourly increase. He is
averse to shedding blood, but I sigh for the difficulties of
his position, between various upper and nether mill
stones, with the destinies of fifteen miUions of people
like to be ground between.
All the revolucionarios who came in with him seem to
have dreamed some of his vague dreams, to which they
add, however, very determined desires to settle in com
fortable nests built by others on the extraordinarily
simple plan of "see a home, take it." The upper
classes, what Httle one sees of them, shake their heads,
cast up their eyes, and throw out their hands. It's all
very uncertain, but most interesting to a lady from the
temperate zone. 151

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
We would aU have liked to see De la B. Vice-President
instead of "Pino-no-no-no." It might have steadied
things, especially abroad, but "might have been" should
be the Mexican device. For some reason I felt saddened
as the train moved out in the twUight, leaving the In
dian world to darkness and Madero.

XIII
Uprising in Juchitan — Madero receives his first delegation — The Ameri
can arrest of Reyes — Chapultepec Park — Side lights on Juchitan
troubles — Zapata's Plan de Ayala November 8th.
T WAS planning to start for Tehuantepec to-morrow,
A when a letter came from Aunt L. saying that the
general in charge of the Federal troops was giving
orders to his army from her porch, the Pan-American
RaUway was damaged, bridges were destroyed, and
cannon were being dragged into town by oxen and
placed in front of her garden.
Everybody has been going to bed dressed, with papers
and valuables close by, ready for flight at a moment's
notice. I was disappointed, and would still have carried out
the program, my heart was ready for her, and things were
cut off here, but I was obliged to take the advice of
the ambassador, to whom N. showed the letter, as the
risk might not be simply personal. There seems a
fataHty about my getting down there. A telegram also
came from her through Mr. Cummings, always so kind,
saying for me not to leave tiU things had quieted down.
The trouble is in the form of an uprising in the dis
trict of Juchitan against the state government (Oaxaca).
The Governor, Don Benito Juarez (a son of the great
Juarez, I think), had tried to separate the jefe politico,
Che Gomez, from his office, a thing not lightly done.
The result was that the Juchitecos, who dearly love a

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
fight, gladly rose with "Che" against the Federals,
who have been bottled up in the Juchitan church and
barracks for days with no rest and no food; there must
have been heavy losses. The firing can be heard from
San Ger6nimo. A few soldiers have arrived, but not
enough for their refief.
The mother of the army surgeon with the troops is
staying with Aunt L., and is in the greatest anxiety
about her son, a fine young man, a typical Spanish
hidalgo. As long as he could he sent messages, but
they have had nothing from him for several days, and,
of course, at any moment the Federals may be wiped
out. There are at least three thousand Indians against
a couple of hundred "regulars."
The government has sent down more troops. Two
brigades went this morning, the Foreign Office announces,
and "order is expected shortly in Oaxaca and on the
Isthmus." There is already a general undertone of
pessimism about Mexico in general and the new regime
in particular.
The first delegation Madero received yesterday was
the Society for Occult Sciences, followed by something
even more tangibly intangible, the spiritualistic society.
It makes one gasp. He wiU need all the help he can get
to grapple with the situation here, but one has one's
doubts about the spirits being consecutively and ex
clusively occupied with the destinies of Mexico, which
seem to need the iron hand of flesh — and not in any
glove, either
Last night we dined at the new Chifian minister's,
Hevia de Riquelme. Mr. Wilson was seven years in
Chili as minister at the time Sefior Riquelme held a
Cabinet position, and has a great affection for him.
They have just come from Japan. The dinner was very
elaborate and expensive, and afterward we danced in
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XOCHIMILCO
DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the large hall and in and out of the big salons. Mrs.
Wilson looked lovely in a white-lace dress with pale-
blue touches, and seemed to reappear again as she
might have been when she was the mother of babes in
Chifi, rather than of these grown sons in Mexico.
November nth.
News this morning from the Isthmus is still more dis
quieting. Many buildings were dynamited in Juchitan,
and many people were killed that way as well as by
bullets and machetes. The wounded are being brought
into San G. for treatment, as when some doctors of the
White Cross arrived on the scene from Salina Cruz the
Juchitecos refused to allow them to enter the town.
The splendid young Doctor Arguello was assassinated
by the rebels while going the rounds of a hospital in
Juchitan, where he was treating their wounded. His
mother has lain moaning, "Mi hijo! mi hijo!" for twenty-
four hours, and refusing aU comfort. The new jefe,
the tax-collector, and other "instruments of the law"
were kiUed. This is how the inauguration of Madero
was celebrated on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. For
tunately San G. is loyal and could be a refuge for the
peaceful inhabitants of other towns. General Merodia
is there with four thousand troops. November 14th.
Yesterday a large afternoon reception was held at the
Foreign Office by Calero, now Minister of Foreign
Affairs, and who has, incidentally, a great understand
ing of the United States. He presented his pretty wife
formally to the Corps Diplomatique. She is delicate-
looking, and life with Calero, with his ambitions and
rather American strenuosity, will keep her going at
quite a pace. The handsome rooms are having an un
wonted vogue — the second time they are thrown open
J55

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
in a month! Professor CastiUo, at the grand piano in
the big room, vied with the pofice band stationed in
the patio. Large American Beauty roses were every
where (a delicate tribute, qutin sabef), and we stood at
smaU buffet tables.
I was between Riedl and Lie, and though less gor
geous to the outward eye, I was more en pays de con-
naissance than when last I refreshed myself in com
pany with the Flowery Kingdom. The nice woman
reporter from the Mexican Herald minutely inspected
the women's clothes, as you wUl see by the dipping I
send. I must get ready for my luncheon to-day. I love to
do the flowers myself, and a great sofid bunch of forget-
me-nots, a foot and a half across, in the big blue bowl,
has been lifted onto the table by Elena and Cecifia.
Bouquets of deepest purple pansies are at each place.
The sun is flooding the patio, the flowers are blooming
and shining — enfin aU the delights of the tropics ! It is
not without reason that they have a lure. The luncheon
is for the Riedls. The Lefaivres, von Hintze, Leclerq,
and others are coming.
We tried the theater again last night. I had ex
pected to go for the Spanish whenever N. had a free
evening; but, really, I have not the physical strength,
and last night we were thankful to get out of the bore
dom of the interminable entr'actes and the unbreathable
devitalized air, which at this altitude has an exhausting
effect unknown at sea level.
The apuntador read all the parts so loudly, now some
times ahead, now sometimes behind the actors, that
one couldn't decide which to follow, him or the artists,
and we gave a sigh of relief as we sped out of the city
toward Tlalpan, beloved of the viceroys.
An immense white moon, that seemed to lose its
156

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
shape in its own flooding light, was rising over the val
ley. Not only the heavens, but the earth irradiated
light, and we seemed to be motoring through a dully
brilliant blue-whiteness. The night was dry, with no
hint of mist, but still a milky ambience that gave an
effect of gleaming wetness was over aU.
Out of the earth came what seemed to me the psychic
miasms of nameless but potent and persistent races.
The Ajusco lulls, for reasons known to themselves, were
dead-black masses as they jetted into the sky, but their
outlines were scalloped with an indescribable embroidery
of the same fluid whiteness. I felt a chill sort of magic
envelop me, penetrating through the thickness of that
long Viennese motor coat; I was even a little afraid
with that nameless fear one sometimes has here. I
think it is the unknown quantities. Everything seems
to equal X.
November 20th.
Reyes has been arrested at San Antonio by a United
States marshal, charged with violating the neutrality
laws. He was doing only what Madero did, but what
is sauce for the gander isn't sauce for the goose. Diaz
had his Madero, Madero his Reyes. How easy it would
have been to have made a friend of Reyes, who was the
idol of the army!
Madero now talks about crushing aU revolutionary
movements with an iron hand ; but his hand, alas ! has
no likeness to iron or anything that can crush. It ap
pears that Madero and Reyes made a pact according
to which each was to have a free hand at the presiden
tial nomination. But the Maderistas either got ner
vous or impatient, or did not want to take chances, and
Reyes was persecuted and threatened until he resigned
his commission in the army and left the country. The
•mihtary element might have been conciliated with
i57

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Reyes as Minister of War or in some other capacity
after being defeated at the poUs; but that would have
been by far too reasonable a modus operandi for these
climes. Reyes found himself obliged to withdraw his can
didature a few days before the election of Madero, and
left the, country as speedily as he could, among other
things giving the New York Sun a chance for a gorgeous
alliterative sentence, "Rebellion, riot, and Reyes mar
the calm of Madero's Mexico."
The Simons are very handsomely instaUed in a house
on the Paseo, and have sent out cards for a series of
dinners. We dined there last night. Simon, it ap
pears, is a banking genius of incorruptible probity — a
second Limantour. They have what few here possess,
a French chef, imported specially. Besides several diplo
mats, there were some Frenchmen whom I had not
met, Armand Defille,1 a banker, and an agreeable man,
Parmentier.2 In the drawing-room are many photo
graphs relating to the Simons' Belgrade etape, an inter
esting one of Pasitch's clever old face, the Serbian
Crown Prince, the old King, Countess Forgasch, -and
others, who struck the Balkan note.
The first reception at Chapultepec, where the Ma-*¥*-ros
have taken up permanent habitation, is to be held on
Friday. November 24th.
Last night there was a brilliant dinner at the Em
bassy in honor of Calero, Minister of Foreign Affairs,
and his wife. I inclose a clipping. Mrs. W. looked
1 Armand Delille distinguished himself; at the battle of the Yser
and on the bridge of Steenstraete was decorated with the Legion
d'Honneur. He was sent to hold it with three hundred men, and
it was held; but when he was relieved, of the three hundred men
only thirty remained.
2 Maurice Parmentier fell at Dieuze, November 28, 1914.
158

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
very handsome in a white-lace gown with gold-wheat
embroideries. Madame Lefaivre had on a gray gown with her nice
diamonds, and a beautiful old lace scarf about her
shoulders. Baroness Riedl wore a clinging yellow dress
with pearl fringe, and all her war-paint in the shape of
her pearls and diamonds. After dinner we sat around
the big, glass-inclosed patio which forms the center of
the house.
I had a little talk with Calero. He is astonishingly
clever. His mind reflects a perfectly clear mental image
of the facts that come before it, and in any argument he
is straight to the point. For the rest, it is terra incognita
to me, though doubtless the land is perfectly charted
with the roads so necessary for arriving at Latin-Ameri
can ends (and not unnecessary to successful politicians
anywhere). Side-lights on the Juchitan troubles continue most
interesting and instructive. Che Gomez, the man who
stirred up the apparently quite-ready inhabitants, is
part Indian, part negro ("zambo" as this special
melange is called), and had set his heart on remaining
jefe politico of the turbulent town. When he began
a similar agitation some years ago, Diaz wisely kicked
him "up-stairs" by sending him in that capacity to
some small place in Lower California. Now he is back,
making things lively.
What remains of the Federal authorities, notaries,
banking agents, industrials, et al., are still cooped up
in the barracks there, or hiding in the woods and dis
tant ranches. The situation was tragic till the long-
looked-for Maderista troops arrived — a motley crowd,
boys strapped to guns larger than themselves predomi
nating over the rurales mounted on scrawny little crow-
baits, looking Hke bandits in comic opera. They were
i59

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
accompanied by their womenkind, of course, and wan
dered aimlessly about. It was such a farce that even
the natives laughed.
Che G6mez is said to be supported by some sort of
powerful influence, and his forces directed by some
one having knowledge of mUitary tactics. The dove
of Madero's new peace is evidently not hovering over
that portion of Mexico. The unrest is like an epidemic.
I must now get into the black-velvet dress to go to
the first reception of the new regime at Chapultepec.
November 24th, evening.
Madero's expression this afternoon was extraordinary.
There was a kind of Ulumination of the plain, indefinite
features, and he seemed scarcely to be walking with
the sons of men. He had a smile which, without being
fixed, was always there, and he talked a great deal,
and quite freely, to various receptive plenipotentiaries.
Madame Madero was simple and dignified, but under
it all I fancy something passionate and resolute. The
diplomats were out in force, but there was very little
else to the reception. A few unlabeled outlying Mexican
nondescripts came, and some of the Cabinet ministers.
Carmona, chef du protocole, and Nervo, the Second Intro
ducer of Ambassadors, did what they could ; but it was
only too apparent that various essential elements of the
national body-politic were lacking.
Madame Madero had on some sort of somber brocade
with a hint of jewel sparkling in her lace jabot, and
received in the big Sala de los Embajadores. After greet
ing her, however, we went out to the terrace, where such
wonders were going on in the heavens that man for the
moment seemed indeed dust. Great bodies of clouds in
the form of a vast rose-colored throng, which Madero
ought properly to have been with, were taking their
160

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
way across the western sky, and purple shadows began
to come up from the valley, enveloping the city as we
watched what I can only call the "xirb of day" disappear
behind the hills. Madero strikes me as being rather a
type apart, not specially Mexican, but such a type as
appears in strange moments of the history of the nation
to which it belongs.
November 25th.
Waiting for lunch after a most delightful morning
in the park with Baroness R. and the French and Belgian
ministers. I don't know if it was Marina's x spirit,
which, according to the Indian tradition, still slips
among the cypresses, or other unrecorded ghosts ; but as
we walked through the Calzada de los Poetas and los
FilosOfos, the matchless sun filtering through the
branches of the old ahuehuetes, their bronzy hue the
only sign of winter one can note here, we aU succumbed
to some enchantment.
There is a moss-hung cypress near one of the little
lakes, called the Arbol de Moctezuma. It, with the
Noche Triste tree, witnessed the fall of the Aztec Empire.
There stiU remains an old inscription on a waUed-in
spring, marking the terminus of the Aztec aqueduct
which brought drinking-water to Montezuma's capital
from Chapultepec. The inscription, which I have some-
1 Marina, the daughter of a cacique of Painalla, had been sold into
slavery, and after the famous battle of Ceutla, when Santiago appeared
in the heavens above the Spanish hosts (the chronicler of the event
says that he, miserable sinner, was not worthy to see the apparition),
she fell into the hands of the Spaniards. She was first allotted to
Puertocarrero, but her abilities speedily raised her to the tent of
Cortes. She became his interpreter, his Egeria, his love, the instru
ment of fate, holding Indian and Spanish destinies alike in her hands.
All historians of the epoch extol her virtues, and Bernal Diaz says
they held her to be like no other woman on earth, because of her in
telligence and her devotion to the Spanish cause. By the Indians she
is held eternally restless — malign — for having leagued herself with
the Spaniards. 161

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
times dallied by, says the aqueduct was renovated in
1 571 by the fourth viceroy. It faces the dustiest of
tramway lines now, but one is thankful for any writing
on any wall that gives a clue to the past.
Near the great tree is "Montezuma's Bath," where
the water still bubbles up, only now the sprucest and
most modern of flower-beds encircle it. This is the
special haunt of Marina, but it is said that when an
Indian has seen her at the ahuehuete pond he himself
is seen no more.
We sauntered about for a while listening to the music,
and then the gentlemen proposed rowing Baroness R.
and myself about in the tiny boats that are for hire.
Once out from under the trees, one became modern and
completely objective, and Mr. Lefaivre and I discussed
European diplomatic appointments of his and my gov
ernments as we rowed about on the shaUow, artificial
lakes under the hottest of suns, between the made lands
of the new section of the park.
But every time we passed under the Httle bridge into
the dimness of the narrow, tree-and-vine-grown banks
of the little stream leading from two sides of the duck-
pond, even though the band played a waltz from "The
Balkan Princess," and a selection of "Lohengrin," and
children were shouting and motors coming and going,
that magic feU upon us. I didn't know if it were Aztec
or Spanish ghosts, or spirits of the heroes of 1847, who
assailed me.
One thing is sure. Those old ahuehuetes keep every
thing that was ever confided to them and trap the
unwary with it. At this season, too, one begins to see
familiar migratory birds come to pass the cold season
in Mexico, recalling with a note of homesickness the dis
tant land of one's birth. A ' ' ruby-crowned kinglet ' ' was
perched on a low branch by the water — and some kind
162

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of a "warbler" was warbling New England lays all over
the ancient park.
November 30th.
Zapata has just given some more bmlding material
to the new republic, in the shape of what he calls El
Plan de Ayala, of the date of November 25th, written
for him by one of the Vasquez Gomez brothers. To our
surprise, the brilliant editor of La Prensa has spoken not
unfavorably of it.
I don't know if it is bowing to the inevitable, or ex
pediency, that makes him advocate the use of the afore
said material, which provides for the division of the
lands of the state of Morelos, the only state in which,
for climatic reasons (not political), the distribution of
land could be undertaken without installing gigantic ir
rigation processes impossible for the Indians.
AU through Mexican history revolutionary leaders
have launched these Plans.
Iturbide published the Plan de Iguala, February
24, 1823, known as Las Tres Garantias, Porfirio
Diaz the Plan de Noria, 1869; Madero's Plan de San
Luis Potosi is what we are now living and breathing
(and sometimes panting) by.1
1 Carranza's Plan de Guadalupe, March 19, 1913, contains, among
other oddities, the statement of this "Everlasting Idol of Free Peoples,"
that "as our Constitution forbids us to confiscate, we have decided to
do without our Constitution for a while."
12

XIV
The feast of Guadalupe — Peace reigns on the Isthmus — Earthquakes —
Madero in a dream — The French colony ball — Studies in Mexican
democracy — Christmas preparations December ist.
A PINCHING, cold snap, the result of a norte of
long duration blowing from Vera Cruz. The heat
quickly goes out of the body, and at this altitude is
not easily made up again. I have been penetrated to
my soul as if by a thin knife. The air is so attenuated
that there is nothing to it except cold, no exhilaration.
The oil-stoves, I have discovered, are not Hghted with
impunity. They have a way of suddenly emitting a
long, high column of black smoke, after which some
thing detonates, and the room and the people in it are
covered by a fine, black soot. One rings, the source of
trouble is removed, and one stays cold.
Very pleasant lunch here yesterday; the only way to
get warm is to eat, drink, and be merry, especially this
last. The luncheon was for the Belgian minister, who
had been appointed to Copenhagen. Can't you hear
us telling him about the Rabens and the Frijs, Klampen-
borg, and the H6tel d' Angleterre ? The Lefaivres
brought a friend who is staying with them — Vicomte de
Kargarou6, a Breton of the vieille noblesse, who is that
anomaly, a French globe-trotter.
I am sending you in the form of Christmas cards
some samples of present-day feather- work ; a pale relic
164

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of the plumaje the Aztecs used to be so famous for,
persisting through the ages. It doesn't at all resemble
the beautiful feather-work mantle, said to have belonged
to Montezuma, that I saw among the treasures in the
Hofburg at Vienna.
December 4th.
Society is agog here; it is the first appearance on any
scene, since my arrival, of the erste Gesellschaft. A young
man shot and killed another at a famous club, and then
died as the result of an accidental wound to himself.
He was married on his death-bed to the mother of his
children; the whole is a story for the pen of Ibanez or
Echegaray. For hours the streets were filled with
carriages and autos taking floral tributes to the stricken
mother. Oh, the hearts of mothers! So many crimes,
social, civil, and national are being committed all over
the world, but everywhere some souls are yearning for
perfection — to keep it all going!
December 6th.
My little luncheon for American women went off
very weU. The dishes Teresa knows — the classic
huachinango, cold and "well presented," with a good
mayonnaise sauce, the small, fat-breasted ducks with
peas, that every one is serving at this season here, were
the "chief of our diet."
Mrs. Kilvert, Mrs. C. R. Hudson, Mrs. Paul Hudson,
the wife of the editor of the Mexican Herald, Mrs.
McLaren, Mrs. Beck, Mrs. Bassett and the ambassa
dress and her sister came.
This is just a word while waiting for Mrs. WUson to
come back for me to go on a caUing bout with her. She
goes home to spend the holidays with her boys, so I
shall have to do what Christmas honors are done — a
tree and incidental tea.
I inclose a little verse by Joaquin MiUer that I cut
165

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
out of the Herald this morning. Though outrageously
bad, the Hne "glorious gory Mexico," is unforgetable.
MEXICO
Thou Italy of the Occident,
Land of flowers and summer climes,
Of holy priests and horrid crimes;
Land of the cactus and sweet cocoa;
Richer, than all the Orient
In gold and glory, in want and woe,
In self-denial, in days misspent,
In truth and treason, in good and guilt,
In ivied ruins and altars low,
In battered walls and blood misspilt;
Glorious gory Mexico. Evening.
Among our visits to-day was one on Madame Creel.
They have a very large and handsome house in the
Calle de Londres, not yet quite finished. Everything
French. In the drawing-room where Madame C. re
ceived were two splendid Sevres vases, and great French-
plate mirrors and French brocades cover the walls.
Mr. Creel, fresh-complexioned, white-haired, speaking
English very well, and liking to recall ambassadorial
days in Washington, took us over the uncompleted
part of the house. The large ball-room is awaiting
special bronze electric-light appliques, door and window
fastenings, now on their way from Paris, where aU the
woodwork of the house was executed.1
1 During the first Carrancista occupation of Mexico City this house
was sacked and stripped of all belongings. Not an electric-light fixture,
not a door-knob was left ; even the costly floorings were torn up. Street
cars run through the Calles de Londres and  told me that for days the
traffic was interrupted by cars filled with the Creels' furniture and works
of art, which were left standing in front of the house. One rather sighs
for the fate of the Sevres vases, and one thinks involuntarily of the new
verb in the Spanish language, " carranciar," to steal like a Carrancista.
166

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
December nth, evening.
This afternoon Madame Lefaivre and Mr. de Soto
and I went out to Guadalupe to see the preparations for
to-morrow's feast, the greatest in Mexico.
Indians were arriving from all directions, bivouack
ing close up against the church. They seemed to have
brought not only all their children, but aU their furni
ture in the shape of petates and earthen bowls, and any
incidental Hve-stock they possessed in the shape of goat
or dog. It was quite cold, and in the dusk they seemed
like their own ancestors coming over the hiUs for the
worship of dreaded and dreadful gods.
Nothing except the Deity and the temple has changed
since the old days ; they themselves are unmodified, and
seemingly unmodifiable. I dare say one would give a
gasp if one could reaUy see what they thought about the
Virgin of Guadalupe, or the "Cause of Causes."
They come in from hidden mountain towns, where
images of other gods are stUl graven, and where charms
and incantations are used, which doesn't at all affect
their devotion to "Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe."
Often they are many days en route, and aU night until
dawn they will be arriving at the great shrine.
We crossed the plaza to a near-by house, where a
painter-friend of Mr. de S.'s Hved, going up some wind
ing stone steps in a house built at the end of the six
teenth century, giving into irregular-shaped rooms with
strange windows apparently not designed to give light.
The paintings portrayed little or nothing of the charm
of Mexico, but Madame Lefaivre found one of some
place near Cordoba, which she thought for a moment
that she wanted. I would much rather have closed my
eyes and looked in on my inner Mexican gaUery, or been
out with the mysterious Indians in the mysterious twi-
Hght which was enveloping the crowded plaza.
167

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
When we finaUy came out lanterns were being hung
on the Httle booths, tortilleras were slapping up their
cakes, and everywhere there was a smeU of the pungent
peppers and all sorts of nameless things they put into
them. Children were rolled up asleep or playing about
half-clad in the cold dusk, and zarape-enveloped men
bent over dimly lighted squares of cloth laid out on the
ground, engrossed in games of chance. I was suddenly
sad, as one might be at seeing rolled out the inexorable
scroll of a subject people. December 12th.
Beautiful weather, soft, shining, clear — but that cold
snap was a terror. Many little brown Indian babies
returned to their Maker by way of bronchitis, pneu
monia, and kindred ills. It is good to think of them
warm, safe with the Lord, so many children with none
or insufficient clothing in that cruel, lifeless cold !
It has been rather a day of contrasts, for in the morn
ing I mingled again with the Indian world at Guadalupe,1
and in the afternoon I went to the benefit held for a
new charity hospital by a committee of American women.
The affair crystallized about the art exhibit of Miss
Helen Hyde, who has a collection of the most lovely
Japanese things done on her recent visit to Nippon.
She calls them chromozylographs, and they are charm
ingly framed in plain black strips. I bought several
after harrowing indecisions.
Madame Madero came and had tea with us at a
table over which Mrs. Wilson presided. Madame Ma
dero was almost extinguished by a huge bronze-green
and purple hat matching her velvet dress. Madame
Calero and Madame Lie made up the party, with Mrs.
Stronge, the newly married wife of the British minister,
1 Diplomat's Wife in Mexico, Feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe.
168

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
who has just arrived. She had on some interesting
emeralds, picked up in Bogota, their last post.
Mrs. WUson goes to-morrow. I always miss her
kindness and her consideration.
Christmas is in the air. We dine with the ambassa
dor at the Kilverts' at Coyoacan on that day. My
thoughts wiU be with my dear ones, and the seas, the
mountains, and the valleys between will hurt.
Just now the following was handed in to me through
Mr. Cummings: "Governor Juarez left for Oaxaca last
night. General Hernandez and troops left for Juchitan
this morning. Peace reigns on the Isthmus."
It looks as if it soon might be time for a lone exotic
niece to betake her to those regions.
December iSth.
A very interesting letter from San Geronimo of the
1 2th came this morning. The governor, with his party,
had just left the house for Tehuantepec and Salina Cruz.
He had come most unostentatiously, with only his sec
retaries and a few officials — no guard, no private car,
no banquets — as he said he had come to restore peace,
and not for feasting.
The celebrated Che G6mez, an hour or so before, had
been sitting, uninvited and unafraid, on the front porch.
When he learned that the governor was expected he
betook himself off, with followers and guard, to another
station. The governor subsequently wired the police at
Rincon Antonio to arrest him on the arrival of the train
before he got out of the state (Oaxaca). He was taken
to jaU, and that night was shot with his men.
No word of regret anywhere for his fate, and I
dare say he gave up his own life as easfiy as he had
taken that of others. Governor Juarez was warmly
welcomed by all the towns, even by poor, ruined Juchi
tan, Che Gomez's own town, with open arms and flowers.
169

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The law-abiding citizens are returning to their dis
mantled homes, after fiving in the bush, from hand to
mouth, for weeks.
December 16th.
This morning at 11.30 a "good" earthquake. It sud
denly got very dark, and I went to the window, my in
fant clutching at my dress, to see what was happening,
when the roofs of the houses opposite began to undulate,
and I had to catch hold of the window, or we would have
been thrown to the floor.
The horses stopped short with perfectly stiff legs, and
people began running out of the doors and kneeling in
the street and shrieking, "Misericordia! Misericordia!"
most uncomfortably. Nothing was broken in the house,
but every picture was left hanging askew, and pale
servants served a luncheon which showed the effects on
them! Elena appeared coUarless, with damp, thick hair float
ing down her back, and Cecilia had a blue rebozo twisted
about her, no hint of white anywhere on her person.
They passed the dishes at an angle of forty-five degrees. Later.
At three o'clock a dimness again fell upon the city,
and there was the faint, uncanny sound of sliding objects
and slipping pictures and swaying doors and curtains.
In a second of time it had passed, but the hint of cosmic
forces leaves a decided trace on mere flesh and blood.
We went to the reception at Chapultepec on Thurs
day, "par chariU, pas par snobisme," as somebody un
kindly said. The Mexican families of repute boycott
the Madero receptions. The few Mexicans who do go
don't figure in the real national accounting. The diplo
mats feel that they at least ought to go, so last Thursday
the inclosed clipping was produced. 170

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Madame Madero, though smaU and worn-looking, is
always dignified and courteous, and receives with sim
plicity and cordiality. Madero seems in a continual
ecstasy; one would think he found Chapultepec the
seventh heaven. He is fuU of confidence in himself and
in the country. A happy man, one involuntarily says
in looking at him. To-night is the baU the French
colony gives for him.
December 17th.
The reception at the "Cercle Francais," in their fine
quarters in the CaUe de Motolinia, was a great success.
The President with Madame Lefaivre, in a handsome
black-and-white gown, and Mr. Lefaivre with Madame
Madero in a dark, rich evening dress, headed the pro
cession to an elaborate supper, aU foUowing according
to the protocol, Mr. Madero and Mr. Lefaivre sitting
facing each other. AUart took me in.
Everything was decorated with the tricolor, and red
and blue and white lights, and masses of natural flowers,
and very good music played continuously; the affair
was got up by the wealthy French commercants in honor
of the President and his wife.
Madame Lefaivre said the President talked to her
the whole time in a most sanguine manner about the
reforms he intends to introduce, especially in the matter
of pubHc instruction, and was wrapped about with U-
lusions and dreams as to his rdle of apostle charged with
the regeneration of Mexico.
Afterward, when he made his speech in answer to the
toast, he recalled happy souvenirs of his youth in the
Lycee de Versailles. When they subsequently made the
tour of the salon, Madame Lefaivre, in passing me,
whispered that she was toute confuse at feehng herself
so big on the arm of the Httle President. He saluted
right and left with a smile which, without being fixed,
171

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
was always there. I think he was very pleased with the
occasion and its international setting.
It is always interesting to see any colony turn out in
distant posts, and here the French colony, represent
ing very large interests — banking, industrial, mercantUe
— is numerous and important, comparable only to that
in Moscow.
The large department shops, d la Bon Marche", Hke
the "Palacio de Hierro" and the "Puerto de Vera Cruz,"
are in French hands. From the days of their interven
tion, the French have invested largely in Mexico, and
now I hear there is much uneasiness in Galfic quarters,
so many interests are to be protected, and the protec
tion is an unknown quantity. Mr. Lefaivre is untiring
in his efforts — but order can only come through the
government itself.
Previous to the famous elections, or rather "selec
tions," as I prefer to call them (the word elections could
be dropped from use and not missed in Mexico), the
Partido Catolico, among other parties of conservative
tendencies, was not efficiently formed. Iglesias Cal
deron represented the old anti-clerical party, and De la
Barra, in spite of his determination to retire from pubfic
Hfe, was made the candidate of the National CathoHc
party, and of the Liberal party as weU, for the Vice-
Presidency. It was "generally understood" that he would be de
feated. N. said last night, informally, to Madero: "It
is a pity; Mr. de la Barra has such a good standing
abroad." Madero replied : "I wUl see that he is elected
from somewhere else." And he was, later, from Quere
taro, his native town, as senator, I think.
They haven't got the "hang" of democracy here, nor
any suspicion of political parties having rights and dig
nities, and it is discouraging to see them trying to work
172

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
out their questions without any such suspicions. It
is war to the knife or the adjective when one man differs
from another.
Bulnes had one of his flashing, witty articles in El
Imparcial not long ago, d propos of the candidature of
Pino Suarez, in which he says that as in classic days
the language of inteUectuals was Latin, now in Latin-
America that of the politicians is any kind of vile lan
guage, and to be in conformity with electoral urbanity,
when meeting an acquaintance, one should salute him
by saying, "I forestall any remark you may make, by
telling you that if you hold opinions differing from mine
you are a scoundrel!" December 18th.
I am inviting for my Xmas festivity those with
chUdren, and the chUdless, the coUeagues, the Bedfords,
the Bonillas, Kilverts, Judge W., the ambassador's great
friend, and members of the embassy. Mr. Wilson has
gone for a few days to the hot country to try to get
rid of his cold, and N. is looking after things in his
absence. I have sent off seventy post-cards, quite a
document of this strange land.
Very pleasant dinner at the French Legation last
night. Bridge afterward tiU an unduly late hour for
Mexico. The Lefaivres have been here three years
already, and would take a European post without urging.
You would like them—cultivated, sincere, and kind, and
Lefaivre shows his long training, his Latin-American
experience in his fuU appreciation of the situation. They
came here from Havana, and keep open house, constant
ly entertaining their colony, as well as doing more than
their share of "nourishing" their colleagues.
Have just been with Madame Lefaivre to the tea
given by  for his extraordinary-looking daughter, a
huge, dark-eyed, fresh-complexioned creature, d la belle
i73

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Fatima, innocent, ignorant, and wanting a husband; a
not unusual type here, but not in our Anglo-Saxon
category at all.
December igth, Tuesday.
Hohler dropped in late for a few minutes. He is going
off on one of his long trips into the heart of the country.
When I asked him which one of his antique comrades
would accompany him, he pulled out a fine little edition
of VirgU, diamond-printed on matchless paper. He is
endlessly strong and keen about things in general, and
now that the minister has arrived, can leave for a few
days' outing.
Some of the long-expected furniture from London has
come, and the Stronges are busy instalfing themselves.
The "Hon and the unicorn" are always most generous
to those who represent them abroad.
Two interesting young women with letters from New
York, from Mr. Choate, also called — Miss Hague and
Miss BrowneU. They are painting and collecting folk
songs. I am thankful for any one coming here to record
the fading glories of Mexico with intelligence and love.
They wiU come for the Christmas tree, also.
December 21st.
Monsignore Vay de Vaya appeared yesterday en route
for Panama. You know space scarcely exists for him.
He found a warm welcome, and Ihave a luncheon for him
on Saturday. He sends many regards, and hopes to
meet you at Nauheim again next summer. I am asking
the Lefaivres, Riedls, Carmona, chef du protocole, De
Soto, the Belgian minister, et al.
I enclose letter of the 17th from Aunt L., who has
just been to Juchitan, saying that the town looked very
battered. The jefe not yet back. Among domestic
items she says a large packet of cranberries has arrived;
i74

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
after thirty years of Mexico, it is not quite so common
place as it sounds, but rather as if a denizen of a Vermont
"village had received a crate of mangoes. December 22d, Friday.
N. and I went to call on Monsignore this morning.
He is stopping at the Hotel Iturbide. He was out, but
I took a look about the imposing patio, three-storied,
colonnaded, and pierced with large, beautifully carved
doorways and windows. It was started on a magnificent
scale for the Emperor Iturbide, who paid the usual
Mexican penalty for power at the hands of the usual
Mexican patriots before it was finished. 'Tis known
that as a hotel it leaves to be desired ; the dust of revo
lutions and ages covers the spacious corridors. There
are strange silences when you call for hot water, or any
kind of water, for that matter. And you eat some
where else.
Yesterday another reception at Chapultepec. Ma
dame Madero is much changed from the simple-appear
ing woman of the Von Hintze dinner. I see she natu-
raUy inclines to a somber richness of dress — dark velvets,
dull brocades — which I think fit her passionate, am
bitious, resolute temperament, though sometimes over
powering to her small physique.
Yesterday she had on a deep-blue brocaded velvet,
with some sort of heavy, lusterless fringe, and there was
a decided though still discreet gleam of jewels. That
air of coming from the provinces, but nice provinces, is
somewhat gone.
The President slipped in quietly, later, without the
playing of the national hymn. There was quite a musi
cal program. Madame Esmeralda de Grossmann played
beautifuUy on the harp. It appears she has an inter
national reputation. The daughter of  , attired in
i75

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
a very tight-skirted, lemon-colored satin dress, trimmed
with swan's-down, one of her pupUs, started to play,
broke down, was further discomfited and finaUy routed
by irate paternal glances. Angela Madero sings charm
ingly with natural style, and gave Massenet's "Elegie"
delightfully. One is continually interested in the com
position of the presidential receptions, which means so
much more than appears. Madero's father and mother
were there, with various daughters and sons and sons'
wives. The Vice-President, young, tall, dark-skinned, black-
eyed, black-mustached, regular of features, without,
however, any perceptible color of personality, was ac
companied by his wife and a contingent of satellites,
moving wherever he moved with the regularity of the
heavenly bodies — no intention of revolving alone in the
unknown social orbit. The Corps Diplomatique was out
in force, and the Protocole, Carmona, Nervo, Pulido,
etc. , also Don Felix Romero, chief of the Supreme Court,
and his wife, Judge and Mrs. Sepulveda of Cafifornia,
naturalized Americans, with a handsome daughter. But
beyond these I did not see any of what might be caUed
"pillars of society," or, indeed, anything remotely re
sembling props to uphold the new order. We presented
Monsignor Vay de Vaya, who struck the international
note in the pink-and-white-and-gold salon des am-
bassadeurs, whose spaces were known to those princes
of his monarchy, MaximUian and Carlota. December 23d, evening.
The Christmas tide is flowing full about the Alameda,
where the Indians have again stocked their puestos with
reminders of the season. We have just come from a
little tournGe between the rows of booths hung with
lanterns of every size and color, the odor of la race
176

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
cuivr&e mingling with the more familiar scent of freshly
cut pine-trees. Tiny plaster and terra-cotta groups of
the "Three Kings" abound — a white man, a negro, a
MongoHan in various fanciful garbings — shone on by
the largest of stars, and all sorts of "Holy Families,"
especially the "Flight into Egypt," where the burro
seems to have come into his own.
On all sides were great pUes of peanuts, fruits known
and unknown, highly colored sweets, heaps upon heaps
of fragUe potteries, and charming, pliable baskets,
brought to the city from mountain fastnesses or distant
plains by Indian famifies afoot.
Soft, shining-bodied chUdren were sleeping in the
most fortuitous of positions, uncovered, in the chill
night air. I could but think of blue-eyed, white-skinned
children in warm nurseries. They lay beside grotesque
naguales- — figures with hideous human faces on woolly
four-footed bodies, whose raison d'etre is to frighten.
The population inclines to the grotesque, anyway, on
the sHghtest provocation, and side by side with the
naguales are other hideous clown-like figures — piftatas —
which are the high-lights of certain time-hallowed post-
Christmas festivities. They are of aU sizes and prices —
from little paper dolls hanging from bamboo rods that
wiU decorate adobe huts to the more expensive figures,
bulky about the waist, whose tinsel and tissue-paper
garments conceal a great earthenware jar fiUed with
toys and candies.
The cohetes are sounding as I write — a sort of fire
cracker — announcing the advent of the Child to this
Indian world.
As for the Posadas, we are evidently not to be initiated
into their mysteries. The Mexican families of note con
tinue to sport their oaks since the coming in of the
Madero administration, and the Diplomatic Corps this
177

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
year is left out in the cold on these intimate occasions,
which are family parties held during nine days before
Christmas, symbolic of the efforts of Mary and Joseph
to find a resting-place in crowded Bethlehem. December 24th.
We see the list of diplomatic shifts; among them are
a few real Christmas presents. Dealing, who returned
a short time ago, is made assistant chief of the Latin-
American division of the State Department. He has
made and wUl continue to make une bonne carriere.
Schuyler, whom I have not seen since he passed through
Copenhagen en route for Petersburg, takes his place here.
Cresson goes to London, which wiU please him; the
Blisses get Paris, quite the handsomest of all the presents.
Weitzel, who was here when we arrived, goes to Nicara
gua, and so on through a long list. I felt, when I saw
the changes, a sort of hankering for the Aryan flesh-
pots, a sudden feeling of my unrelatedness to Latin
America. I was, so to speak, for the moment "fed up"
on the tropics with a thick sauce of world pain. Any
light-colored diplomat will know just what I mean, and
I dare say the dark ones feel it in higher latitudes.
Diplomacy, as offered by the United States Govern
ment, is a most unsettling thing, anyway. The basic
uncertainties of the carriere, to begin with, and then,
if you are in a place you like, the feeling that at any
time the trump may sound, and if you don't Hke it,
hoping to be changed. However, it aU goes up Hke
smoke along with other human things.

XV

The first Christmas in Mexico City — Hearts sad and gay — Pinatas —
Statue to Christopher Columbus. Christmas Day, ign.
MY first thought was of my precious mother,
I'absence est le plus grand des maux. I went to
midnight mass at the French church with Madame Le
faivre. The Adeste Fideles was beautifully sung, and I
thought of the miUions of throats, all over the glad, sad
earth, singing the peace-bringing air.
I was so happy that of the people assembled around
the tree three knew you and spoke of you — Monsignore
Vay de Vaya, and Mrs. Bedford and her daughter. It
was sad to have Aunt L. so near and yet so far.
The Httle party went off very well — tiny souvenirs for
each. Elim was overwhelmed with toys of the most
elaborate kind, and I was almost embarrassed at one
time, as they came piling in. The only children present,
alas, were Jim Chermont, Mrs. C. R. Hudson's pretty
blond-haired little girl, the Japanese children, and little
Harold Hotchkiss. They played near the tree, mostly
lying on their little tummies, with their heels in the air,
as near the lights as possible.
AUart sent the dearest miniature charro costume as a
present to Elim, with a line that he was too sad to come ;
his beloved little daughter is in Belgium.
In the morning I drove down to the San Juan Letran
market and brought back a great bundle of the gorgeous
13 179

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
flor de Noche Buena (Poinsettia) , most difficult to ar
range on account of the thick, angular stems, and not
too trustworthy about keeping fresh, even here on its
native heath. But the red made lovely splashes of color
in the rooms, which were packed. It ended by my in
viting every Anglo-Saxon in town, as well as the diplo
mats, but I have noted that on festive occasions people
Hke being packed.
The punch, after an exceUent receipt given me by
Madame Bonilla, was good and heady, as a punch
should be, and the ambassador sent his Belgian maitre
d'hotel to superintend the serving of the refrescos. I
know, however, that many a thought was far, and many
a heart sad, because of separations and vanishings.
At four o'clock to-day I light up the tree for the ser
vants, and give them their presents. They have carte
blanche to bring any of their related young, so I imagine
we will be fairly numerous. I then take Elim to the
Chermonts' tree, and we dine at the Kilverts' at Coyoa
can, driving out with the ambassador and Mr. Potter
and Mr. Butler.
To-morrow Elim goes to a pinata given by Madame
Bonilla, chUdless herself, but always so eager to make
children happy. Wednesday to another at Madame
Clara Scherer's. I don't know how he wiU stand so
much "going out." He and Jim Chermont had quite
a little "shindy" toward the end of the afternoon yes
terday, at which the tiny Jap assisted with joy.
The pinata is hung from the ceiling of the zaguan
(vestibule entrance into the patio). Each ctdld in turn
is blindfolded, presented with a long stick, turned
around, and then told to proceed. When a lucky hit
breaks the pinata, there is a stampede for the scattered
treasure. On Wednesday Madame Lefaivre has Monsignore to
1 80

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
dinner; they had met before in Paris at the Princesse
de Polignac's.
Elim went to bed with a goat with sharp horns, from
Madame Lie, a whip, and nearly a brigade of soldiers,
which I removed from him in the "first sweet dreams of
night."
December 28th.
The pinatas continue, one this afternoon at Mrs. C.
R. Hudson's. They appear to be quite exciting, for
little darlings dream and moan about them in their sleep.
Yesterday EHm was taking the papers out of the waste-
paper basket in the library and loading them onto one
of the Christmas wagons. He was clad in pale blue,
looking inexpressibly fair and remote from earthiness,
when he raised those blue, blue eyes to me and said:
"Mama, ich bin der Mistmann" (I am the garbage-
man). Talking of contrasts!
Now I must dress for the dinner at the French Lega
tion for Monsignore. He is looking very worn. These
long world- journeys that he makes for his emigration
work take it out of him. From the founding of an
orphanage in Corea to the visiting of Hungarian dock
laborers on the Isthmus of Panama is rather a stretch
of nerves as well as space.
We have the news that General Reyes' Christmas gift
was his surrender to the Federal troops — quite a pleasant
surprise for Mr. Madero's "stocking." He is eliminated;
but aU seem ready to fight over the bones of peace that
Diaz left — though not one of them is worthy to tie his
shoe-strings from the point of civic government and
keeping of order, which last I now see is the first requisite
for any state.
There is a cartoon in the Chicago Inter-Ocean of Madero
trying to hold his hat on, with Diaz watching from
Europe. That Parthian shot of his, that in the end the
181

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Government would have to use his methods, is going
home.
December zgth.
The "angel boy" has lost a front tooth — one of those
that you watched come. It fell out at Madame
 's pinata, in her big, too-handsome house, where
the entertainment was most elaborate, and the toys that
were scrambled for when the olla was broken were of the
most expensive kind. Afterward all imaginable rich
things were served in the big dining-room. The hottest,
pepperiest tamales were passed around to about forty
little Mexican darlings, who ate them, not only with
relish, but composure; my taste brought tears to my
eyes and a call for water.
Elim left his seat to bring his tooth triumphantly to
me and tell me I must have it set in gold. He is so
little that he wfil be around for years with a hole in his
mouth. I felt much the way I would have felt had I
discovered him growing a mustache. Madame  's
house, in good taste outside, architecturally, is Hke her
pictures inside, the frames too rich for what they inclose.
There are agate-topped tables and malachite bric-a-brac
in heavy gUt vitrines, and "hand-painted" screens. It is
beautifully situated in the Glorieta Colon, the rond-
point where the statue of Christopher Columbus, by a
French artist, was raised in 1877. It shows him sur
rounded by the two monks who helped him in the great
adventure, and Fray Pedro de la Gante and Fray Barto
lomd de las Casas, lovers and protectors of the Indians.
The monks are Padre Juan Perez de Marchena, prior
of the convent of Santa Maria Rabada, who had the wit
to understand and the power to further Columbus's
project. The other, Fray Diego Dehasa, was the con
fessor and adviser of King Ferdinand. It's too bad
182

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Humboldt could not have seen it, for he says: "On peut
traverser VAm4rique Espagnole depuis Buenos Aires
jusqu'd Monterrey, depuis la Trinitt et Porto Rico jusqu'd
Panama et Veragua, et nulle part on ne rencontrera un
monument national que la reconnaissance publique ait
ileve' d la gloire de Christophe Colomb et de Hernan CorUs."
December 2gth.
Two sportsmen of note, Count Sala and Mr. Wuliams,
came for lunch to-day, also Riedl. They are here en route
to Tampico for tarpon-fishing, the only really fine sport
Mexico offers to foreigners. They were at the delightful
dinner at the French Legation the other night for
Monsignore. December 30, ign.
One of Aunt Louise's exquisite letters came this morn
ing — I wUl forward it another time. She begins by
saying, "Where are you, wandering star?" and wishes
me, wherever the end of the earthly year finds me,
"joys that reside in little things, as well as fortune's
greater gifts."
Outside night and snow were falling. Within lamps
were lighted and fire glowing. Genevieve was playing
"Robin Adair," and her "heart was suddenly sad to
plumbless depths," because of separations. She closes
with a verse (I don't remember from whom) :
When windflowers blossom on the sea,
And fishes skim along the plain,
Then we who part this weary day,
Then you and I will meet again.

XVI
Off for Tehuantepec — A journey through the jungles — The blazing
tropics — Through Chivela Pass in the lemon-colored dawn — Ravages
of the revolution — A race of queens January I, igi2.
MY first thought flies to you this morning. I have
sorrowed, smiled, in other years, perhaps learned
to pray, so mayhap my heart is ready for 191 2.
N. has gone to the Palace, where the President receives
the gentlemen of the Diplomatic Corps; this afternoon
Madame Madero receives both messieurs et dames. Last
night a pleasant dinner at the Embassy, at which I
presided. Americans only, the ambassador's special
friends, and home in reasonable time. I was "hung
solitary in the universe" when twelve o'clock struck
and kindly healths were drunk. I thought of the light
already beginning to break over the wintry Zurich hiUs,
and of you, and Elliott and his Calvary, and that other
dear one of our blood, lost to men but not to God. Was
he sleeping quietly? January 2d.
N. came in a while ago with arrangements complete
for the trip to Tehuantepec. A telegram from Aunt
Laura last night says: "All quiet here again; so glad
you are at last coming."
It seems like a fairy-tale that I am off to San Geronimo,
that exotic memory of my childhood. I remember we
called it San Geronimo instead of pronouncing it San
Herdnimo. How the letters used to come dropping in —
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and the presents! The red-leather-covered sandalwood
box, with its brass naUs; the strange, square, old Spanish
sfiver coins, just chopped off, as one would a bit of dough,
and stamped hot ; the painted gourds, the idols and the
bright bits of embroidery.
N. has just been delegated to go to get an American
out of jaU, the third one this week. They are taken up
for nothing; we are not popular here just now.
Madame Madero's New- Year's reception for the Corps
Diplomatique was poorly attended and there was no en-
Hvening touch in the way of refreshments and nothing
in which to drink healths. The wife of the  minister
asked the President for a verre d'eau toward the end.
He was very apologetic, pleasant, and modest, and said :
"Oh, we don't know how to do these things." He
seemed fuU of good intentions and hope for 1912 — but
alack! alack! never has it been seen that nobility alone
is able to maintain its possessor!
EHm is begging me to bring him a monkey when I
come back. I hate to disappoint him — but do you see
me travefing with anything belonging to that species?
The trip is said to be magnificent — two nights and one
day. I wish it were two days and one night.
Aunt L. is thinking of me and preparing for me; I
know what it means for some one of her own to penetrate
to her fastness, or rather her jungle. Mr. Cummings
has put the telegraph at N.'s and my disposal while I am
away. I have not been outside the Federal district since
I arrived, so content with the treasures of this matchless
vaUey ; but of course one easUy gets the Reisefieber.
I wiU write en route to the "blazing tropics." Now,
fareweU. January 4th, Cordoba, io a.m.
We have just descended into a dew-drenched world.
It is supposed to be the "dry season," estacidn de secas.
*8$

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
A warm, wet, glistening air comes in at the window, and
my furs are in the rack.
I have been watching endless coffee-plantations with
red berries shining among the foliage, and great tobacco-
fields of broad, shiny leaves. Banana-trees grow close
to the tracks, and everywhere are the most perishable
of homes, built of what looks like nothing more sofid
than corn-stalks and dried leaves.
Cordoba was founded early in the seventeenth century
by a viceroy, who modestly caUed it after himself. Later.
A series of the most gorgeous mountain vistas, tunnel
after tunnel, and in between each darkness a world of
beauty. Lovely palms abound, delicate yet definite in
their flowery symmetry. The Pico de Orizaba has made
various fareweU appearances, one more enchanting and
regretful than the other. Now a great plain is rolling
away, of seemingly incredible fertifity, with shadows
of clouds on its shining stretches.
The faithful banana, which was first brought to this
continent by a Dominican monk, via Haiti, about the
time of the Conquest certainly came into its own in this
hot, moist land. One of the early ecclesiastical writers
in Mexico was so impressed that he hazards the state
ment that it was the forbidden fruit that tempted Eve.
It certainly continues to tempt both sexes and aU ages
to idleness. Later.
Presidio, in the cafion of the Rio Blanco.
I have been absorbed in watching the tropical jungles,
where form is eliminated. Every tree is choked or cloaked
by some sort of enveloping convolvuli; every wall has its
formless abundant covering. No silhouettes anywhere,
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
no "cut" to anything — which is why aU this richness
could, I imagine, get monotonous. Tierra Blanca, 3.30.
In the "blazing tropics"! A heavy, hot atmosphere
comes in at the window. AU along there has been much
sitting of a dark race under banana-trees, where not even
a change of position seems necessary in order to be fed
We have had a long wait here at Tierra Blanca, which
is the junction of a branch line to Vera Cruz, and I have
been watching station life. It's very highly colored.
Here and there appears an unmistakably American face —
the "exploiters" some would caU them; but it seems to
me they gather up aU this vague splendor, this endless
abundance, into something definite, with benefits to the
greater number, though some get "left," of course.
There is a decided note of carpe diem transposed into
orange, scarlet, and black, which aU the coming and
going of men, women, and children with baskets of coffee-
beans doesn't do away with. In the tropics the white
man is king, be he Yankee, Spaniard, or Northman, and
it is part of the lure. The abundances of Mother Earth
are for his harvesting ; a strange, native race seems there
to do him honor, render him service, asking only in
return enough of the abundance to keep soul in body for
the allotted span.
We have just passed the broad Rio Mariposa (Butter
fly River), and are at a place caUed "Obispo." Indian
women are holding up baskets of the most gorgeous
fruits, babes on their backs, cigarettes in their mouths.
We are near the celebrated Valle Nacional. I remem
ber some terrible articles in one of the magazines about
the human miseries in the working of the tobacco-
factories, herds of men, women, and children locked
together into great sheds at night during tropical storms,
187

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
enslavements, separations. It's easy to hope it is not
so, but I dare say it is.
We are zigzagging through dense jungle with the
gaudiest splashes of color. Flashy birds are flying
about. Sometimes one wonders if it is bird or flower.
AU the green is studded with bright spots. There are
great, flat, meadow-like spaces, the soU looking rich
enough to bear food for all the hungry miUions of the
earth, and numberless cattle are grazing over it. But
oh! the inexpressible slipshodness of the human abodes!
Anything perishable, nearest at hand, sugar-cane stalks,
palm leaves, continue to compose the dweUings ; and oh !
the crowds of chUdren, of human beings, just as sHpshod,
just as perishable !
The sun is setting. Great pink brushes of cirrus are
covering the sky, against a blue that hates to give way,
but in a moment I know it wul be dark. Later.
A wonderful day, but somehow I am glad I was born
in the temperate zone. I suppose it's the New England
blood protesting against all this, as something wasteful
and unrelated. Since we passed the heavy-flowing Rio
Mariposa I have been having more than a touch of
"world-pain." The light is so poor in my state-room
that I can't read, but I arrive at San Ger6nimo at 5.30,
which means a 4.30 rising, so good night. January 5th, 5.30 a.m.
Chivela Pass in the lemon-colored dawn! I don't
know what I went through in the night, but now I am
descending to the Pacific. Sharp outlines of treeless,
pinkish hills are everywhere showing themselves, with
here and there patches of the classic and beautiful
organos cactus. It is almost cmlly. My heart and I are
188

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ready for the meeting. The porter tells me there are
only two more stations.
San Ger6nimo, January 6th, evening.
As the train got in to San G. I saw a very pale, very
blue-eyed, slim, white-clad figure. New England, though
a thousand cycles had been passed in the tropics. We
met in sUence, two full hearts, and in sUence we went
over to the house. . . . January 8th, evening.
We have been walking up and down the garden
under the big fig-tree, where a huge and very beautiful
huacamaia, a sort of parrot, with a yellow-and-red head
and a long blue taU makes his home. We have been
thinking and talking in a way so foreign to the thick
tropical darkness enveloping us.
The sun went down on a world of ashes of roses and
then this soft, very black night fell. At sunset we took
a tum about the sandy, desolate-looking town.
Women, scriptural women, were washing and bathing
in the broad, high-banked stream. It reminded me of
Tissot's pictures of the Holy Land — the barren banks
of the pebbly river, the fig-trees, the Httle groups. The
women wear most lovely garments as to outline. A wide
skirt with a deep flounce is tucked up in front, for more
ease in moving, and the falling flounce gives quite a
Tanagra Hne.
Little girls are always dressed, from their tenderest
age, in skirts too long; but Httle boys go naked till they
are eleven or twelve, and the clad and the unclad play
about together.
When Don Porfirio took things in hand the boys were
made to dress to go to school, and as a last touch of fash
ion made to tuck their shirts inside their trousers. It
appears, however, they only tuck them in as they
189

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
enter the school door, pulling them out when they are
released. . . . But Aunt L. says she is tired of it aU — the
naked children, the barren stretches, the carpe diem, the
ultimate unrelatedness of her life to its frame, though I
kept thinking of Henley's line, "and in her heart some
late lark singing." . . .
. . . Each life, it seems to me, short or long, is
wonderful when it becomes a perfected story, if we
could only get it in perspective, against its own destined
background; not blurred and mixed with other unre
lated Hves, but by itself, in refief, as the great artists
show their masterpieces. I can't feel the ordinariness
of any human life. Some are dreadful, some beautiful,
some undeveloped; but each in its way could be an
infinitely perfect story were the artist there to record it.
January ioth, evening.
To-day we drove over to Juchitan, the "county-seat " —
Aunt L. to get some papers witnessed and signed at the
jefatura, and to show me the ravages of the revolution
of November.
The country, as we drove along, was scorching, dry,.
light-colored, with only an occasional tree and the irre
pressible mesquite growing everywhere out of the sandy
soU. We passed dreadful, screaming, wooden carts, with
their solid wooden wheels, drawn by thin oxen, trying to
nibble the withered grass; and there were herds of skele
ton-like cattle dotted over the thorny cactus-covered fields.
There is a great hill, Istlaltepec, which separates San
Geronimo (fortunately, I should say) from Hvely Juchi
tan ; and on the side of it away from San Ger6nimo are
prehistoric tracings and remains, studied, at various
times, by various savants. It's a country with sandy,
flat stretches and blue hills bounding them, and the river
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of Juchitan flowing to the near Pacific. The village of
Istlaltepec was a blaze of color, white-washed or pink- or
blue-washed dweUings, fig- and palm-trees, and over all
the briUiant, blinding light.
At Juchitan we stopped a moment at a hotel, but it
was so dUapidated and shot with bullet marks, and so
desolate and mournful-looking inside, that we went to a
smaU, native place of refreshment, kept by a one-time
servant of Aunt L.'s. She was old, but welcoming. Her
daughter, a fine, tall woman of thirty or thereabouts,
was coming down the street, with one of the great,
painted gourds on her head filled with a variety of highly
colored things, and with the walk of a queen, a majestic,
gentle, swaying movement.
They spread a spotless cloth, in a dim, sandy, red-tiled
room with a gfimpse of a palm in the old patio behind,
that would have been a back yard, and a hideous one,
if it had been "at home." The old woman told her ail
ments, and the daughter, aided by the granddaughter,
served us a sopa de frijoles (bean soup), a perfect ome
let, with a hard-crusted, pleasant-tasting bread, but
no butter, and black coffee.
Goat's milk was offered; the goat was in the patio — ¦
but "goat me no goats."
The inhabitants of the street gathered around as we
got into the carriage, among them an Indian woman
with a coal-black baby — a salto atras, a "jump back," as
they are cheerfully called, when the baby is blacker than
the mother. We proceeded to hunt the jefe again, but
when we got to the jefatura we were informed that he
was stUl taking his siesta, so in spite of the sun we
decided to look about the apparently deserted town.
We stopped at another inn, where there were more
signs of recent "regeneration" — blood-stained walls,
mirrors broken, a biUiard-table partly chopped up, and
191

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
a piano of the "cottage" variety with its strings pulled
out. The propietario showed us around sadly, but with
a note of pride. His house was, for the moment, the
"show-place" of the town. He pointed out a large,
carefully preserved blood-spot on the floor, and kept
repeating muy triste — but all the same there was a light
in his eye.
The barracks, with a large detachment of Federal
troops, and the near-by church have great pieces chipped
off by guns, and are embroidered by pepperings of rifle-
fire. Don Porfirio nearly lost his life on his way to Don
Alejandro de Gyves' (Aunt L.'s French friend, when she
first came down here; he was consul, you remember,
and they were the civilises of the place) . The Juchitecos
tried to kill Diaz and his priest-friend, Fray Mauricio,
near his house, and it was the village leader of that epoch
who put his brother Felix to death. They seem to be
consistent and persistent fighters, these Juchitecos, given
over to libations, always fighting with somebody, but
best enjoying it in their own bafiiwick.
The damages caused by the ambitions of the late
Che Gomez were amply testified to. A French mer
chant, Senor Rome, whom Aunt L. saw about some
business, had had his home in the environs sacked, and
his bride had escaped with difficulty into the hiUs, her
beloved trousseau and household Hnen, brought from
Paris, of course, being destroyed or stolen.
January 12th, g a.m.
We were up with the dawn, expecting to start for
Tehuantepec and Safina Cruz at six o'clock, taking the
train that I had arrived on at 5.30. But this is one of the
mornings when it won't get here till after nine o'clock.
A hot, fierce, sandy gale is blowing, and every door
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and window in the house is rattling. We are just going
to have a second breakfast, before starting out. The
Chinese cook does very well, but when he was talking
with his assistant this morning under my window, it
sounded like the chopping of hash, literally, a conversa
tion of short sounds and shorter stops.
Some fresh cocoanuts were brought in, and we have
each had a glassful of the milky beverage. I can
imagine how delicious it would be, come upon suddenly
in the desert; but sitting at a table with a servant to
pour it out, I was a little disappointed. I innocently
came down in a hat for the journey, but it was impos
sible to keep it on, even sitting on the veranda. These
winds, it appears, blow whenever they feel like it, from
October tUl May.
Now we are waiting, Aunt L. in white, with a long
blue chiffon veil, and I in blue, with a white veil. I fancy
we would present a picturesque sight to the proper eyes.
January 13th, 7.30 a.m.
At last, yesterday, the train came, and, clutching at
our veUs, we were blown into it, and after another
unexplained delay started off in an American-built car
like our ordinary ones. Its name was "Quincy"! In
the old days, Aunt L. went everywhere on horseback.
We passed various little wind-swept villages. Jordan
was the name of one of them, seeming, in the sandy, New-
Testament-looking spot, just the right name. Two beau
tiful Tehuantepec women got into the train there, kindly
sitting near us. I was fascinated by their clothes, and
much more interested in them than they were in us.
The unfanfifiar cadence of the Zapoteca gave them a
complete touch of foreignness. One of them wore a
beautiful, strange, complicated head-dress of stiff pleated
and ruffled lace, which, I later discovered, does not at all
193

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
interfere with the carrying on their heads of the large,
shallow, brightly painted gourds. Her skirts were long
and deeply flounced, but looped up at the waist, just
a tucking in of the lower hem of the flounce, with the
rest of the stuff flowing away in a most lovely Hne. The
other woman had on a beautiful necklace of irregular-
shaped gold coins, and with her flashing teeth and dark
eyes, and a brilliant, low-cut, full jacket, with a yeUow
handkerchief twisted turbanwise around her head, made
a picture I could not take my eyes from. I felt as color
less as a shadow, and I told Aunt L. she looked like a
blue-and-gray Copenhagen vase strayed into a Moorish
room. Just before getting into Tehuantepec we came upon a
beautiful grove of cocoanut-palms, high and graceful,
above the rest of the vegetation, and the Httle nestling
huts and houses. All about are jungles containing
strange creeping things, and strange fevers and kin
dred creeping Uis.
As the train passed slowly down the principal street,
it seemed to me I looked out on a race of queens, taU,
stately, with their lovely costumes. The men seemed
undersized and sort of "incidental" in the landscape,
but those beautiful women walking up and down their
sandy streets were a revelation. Aunt L. says they
possess not only the beauty, but the brains of the race.
Former generations of Tehuantepec men, fitter mates
for these queens than the specimens I saw, were mostly
kiUed off in the various wars of "independence," and I
understand the population is kept up by fortuitous but
wiUing males from other places.
Everything was color; gorgeous splashes of yeUow
and black, and red and orange and blue against the
shifting, sandy streets. A picturesque, creamy Palacio
Municipal faces the plaza, and there were many
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
churches — mostly showing earthquake vicissitudes. An
old fortress, once the headquarters of Diaz, gives a
last suggestive note to the whole.
Glorious memories of Don Porfirio hang all over this
part of the world, where he is adored and mourned. I
must say Madero's face looked positively childish in
the jefatura at Juchitan, as it confronted the stern,
clever visage of the great Indian. Even the cheap, high
ly colored Hthograph could not do away with his look
of distinction and power. He was, in his young days,
military governor of Tehuantepec, and at one time jefe
politico. A French savant and traveler, l'Abbe Brasseur
de Bourbourg, remembering him then, said he was the
most perfect type he had ever seen, and what he im
agined the kingly hero Cuauhtemoc to have been.
When we got out of the train at Salina Cruz, a whirl
wind caught us and blew us down the platform. I saw
very little of the town on the way to the British Con
sulate, where we were to lunch, as I was bent double
by the wind and blinded by the sand.
Mr. Buchanan and his wife were waiting to receive
us. Mr. B.'s kind but shrewd blue eyes, altruistic brow,
and welcoming hand-clasp show him at first sight to be
what Aunt L. says he is, "pure gold." She has found
him through years the best of friends and wisest of
advisers. The consulate is on one of the sandy ridges
that the town seems largely composed of, and Mrs.
Buchanan has arranged it with taste and comfort after
our ideas, with books and flowers and easy-chairs. But
one look from the high bow window and you know at
once where you are, with irrepressible cacti and palm-
trees peeking in at you.
I tried sitting on the sheltered side of the veranda
for a few minutes while waiting for lunch, that my
eyes might "receive" the Pacific, but I was glad to go
14 IQ5

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ih-doors again. Mr. B. says the wind blows that way
six or seven months in the year. Yesterday was one of
its "best."
Our consul, Mr. HaskeU, and his wife came in later to
tea. Their house is on another sand-ridge. After a last
pleasant chat about our affairs, their affairs, and Mexican
affairs we departed for our train in a great darkness
that the stars made no impression on, the wind still
tearing down the sandy streets. I was sorry not to
visit the breakwaters — rompeolas, they call them — but
would probably have been blown overboard.
From the veranda I could see ships that had come
from Morning Lands, riding at anchor, and later the
sun went down in quiet majesty over the great, flat
waters of the Pacific. I was so near the Atlantic that
I thought of Humboldt's expression of "tearing the
Isthmus apart, as the pillars of Hercules had been torn
in some great act of nature," and Revillagigedo's -
dream of a canal joining the Atlantic to the Pacific.
Mr. Buchanan said the first authentic mention of the
Isthmus was in a conversation between Montezuma and
Cortes, as to the source of the quantities of gold the
Spaniards saw. Cortes, who was of an inquiring turn
of mind at any mention of the shining stuff, sent Pizarro,
and then Diego de Ordaz (he who tried to ascend Popo
catepetl, and got a volcano added to his crest), to in
vestigate, coming here himself after the rebuilding of
Mexico City, en route to Honduras. He received a
grant of the whole territory round about — "Las Mar-
quesadas," as they are still caUed, after his title, Marques
del Valle de Oaxaca (Marquis of the Valley of Oaxaca).
This morning there is stiU a great rattling of the win
dows and the doors, but not a sign of gnat or mosquito.
I must arise and further investigate isthmian life. The
1 Fifty-second viceroy.
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DIPLOMATIC DAYS
huacamaia in the fig-tree has been making himself heard
since dawn. I knew that if I did not tell you of Tehuan
tepec and Salina Cruz now, you would never hear, and
I think what those names have meant to you during the
years. It's all a memory of drifting sands, women as
straight as their own palm-trees, slim, naked boys,
fierce wind, and, in the harbor, the great port works,
built by foreign energy and capital. January 14th.
Going up, up, with a ringing in my ears out of the
"blazing tropics" into the Tierra Templada. I am
traveling with a parrot in a cage, and a nondescript
Httle animal called, I think, a tajon, in a box with slats !
After a very cursory survey last night, it seemed to
belong to the 'coon family. I (who wish all animals well,
but not too near) dimly apprehend the Merida family
on the "Ward Line" traveling with their parrot, when
I consider that I was put onto the Pullman last night
in a thick, inky, tropical darkness, with a parrot in a
cage, and a tajon in a box with slats. The amiable
colored porter is looking after them in the baggage-car,
and the back veranda with the oleanders, beyond the
dining-room, is their ultimate destination. I say noth
ing of the parting; Aunt L. has promised to come soon.
The glorious Pico de Orizaba has just shown its lovely
white head between two dissolving blue ridges. Last
night I reread Le Journal d'Amiel, which, with Monsieur
Le Coq, I picked up as I was leaving the house. As
up-to-date in the jungle as anything would be.

XVII
Gathering clouds — "Tajada" the common disease of republics — Recep
tion at Chapultepec — Madero in optimistic mood — His views of
Mexico's liabilities to America, [January 17th.
1HAVE not written since my word in the train. Too
busy taking up daUy threads, and there have been
various dinings and lunchings out. On my return I
found yours saying that another yeUow-stamped instal
ment of the Arabian Nights Entertainment had come
in on your breakfast-tray. Just put Mexicans instead
of Persians, or whatever they were, intrigues for power
in a Latin-American repubhc, instead of the intricacies
of Haroun-al-Raschid and his calif at, change your longi
tude, and you are ' ' Orientee ' ' as exactly as the pyramids !
January igth.
(My brother's birthday).
To-night I am thinking of Elliott,1 and, as so often,
before his days of physical and spiritual anguish, of the
beautiful brow with its lines of thought, and the straight
limbs as he moved freely among the other sons of men.
But however dear in his activities, where pride was a
factor, he is infinitely dearer to me now, stretched,
broken, whUe others divide his garments. I ask myself
to-night at this seventh turning of the years of pain,
what I have not asked him. Has he drunk the chafice,
or is he still putting it away?
1 Elliott Baird Coues, t Zurich, January 2, 1913.
198

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
His mind is naturally occupied with inteUectual equa
tions. He as naturally rejects the mystical; there is
nothing "vicarious " to him. Life is only what rationaUy
and definitely is to be discovered by each one, no possible
doing of another's work. I remember quoting to him
once, d propos of destinies and the end of the ends:
"Ego sum alpha et omega, principium et finis," and he
answered, "Each one is his own alpha and omega."
I know Httle, after aU, of his spiritual life. His in
teUectual Hfe I can read Hke any fine book, the techni-
cafities of a trained mind superior to mine, inspiringly
surmised, but not understood. He is not anima natu-
raliter Christiana, but all the same, he must hang in his
body on the cross of Christ crucified, and his only hope
is in acceptance of it, along the lines of redemption, cut
off as he is from the exercise of his splendid natural gifts.
Results for him mean the hunting out of definite, secret
combinations, in definite, scientific areas, and his mind
is speculative only in an inteUectual sense.
I shall, perhaps, never know how far the "Crucified"
has convinced him, but to-night, in thinking of him, sitio
comes again and again to me. He has been so thirsty
for the employment of his gifts, whose value he knows,
in a clear, common-sense way, as he also knows what has
not been given him, and the suppression of that gift of
industry seems sometimes to me the most painful nail
that holds him. Don't let what I have written make
you unhappy. Mother-wounds bleed and burn so
easUy. In this quiet, beauteous night, with the patio holding
a thick, silver moonfight spUling over the square, dark
roof, this gorgeous Indian world in strange unrest about
me, and I myself far enough away to see, I can speak.
Show him this some time when he is healed. What an
adoring sister thought cannot hurt. I unite myself
199

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
with the miUions who have had their loved ones hang
ing on the cross, who have heard their sitio. But as the
emotions of each are measured by their personal expe
rience, this, my brother's thirst, moves me more deeply
than even that of sacramental martyrs, who gave will
ingly, where he gives resistingly. "And everywhere I
see a cross where sons of men give up their lives." . . .
January 20th.
Things are bubbfing up, boiling, geyser-like, and the
public in a fair way to get scalded. Yesterday a bUl
was passed through Congress suspending the con
stitutional guarantees in various of the near-by states,
Morelos, Tlaxcala, Puebla, Vera Cruz, and others.
It would seem that all of Mr. Madero's chickens are
coming home to roost, and demands for the cutting up
of the Mexican cake sound from aU sides. But what was
easy for Madero to promise in the first passion for the
regeneration of "his" people is proving not only im
practical, but impossible. What's the use, anyway, of
giving waterless lands to Indians without farming
implements, whose only way of irrigating would be
prayers for moisture to pre- or post-Cortesian gods?
Let those who have been divested of their iUusions by
hard facts govern the state, I say.
Outside of a few poHtical agitators, who cares for
politics here except as a means of Hvelihood? What
each one is a-fevered for is the disease commonly attack
ing repubHcs. Above the Rio Grande they call it graft.
Tajada it is caUed here, but the name doesn't matter.
RepubHcs are notoriously susceptible, and here it grows
with a lushness comparable only to the jungle. Now
when the reins of government are in many regions given
over to those completely unversed in statecraft or even
in the rudiments of "mine and thine" — a lower-class
200

Photograph by Kavell

BOATS ON THE VIGA CANAL

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
contingent, naturally destructive, unimaginative, and
completely ignorant — what can one expect ?
January 23d.
Aldebert de Chambrun1 called yesterday afternoon
and came back for dinner. He is just down from Wash
ington, being d cheval between the two posts. It brought
back old chUdhood days. Now he is in the full tide of a
briUiant career, and scintillating with the celebrated De
C. wit. They aU have it — delightful, fin, glancing from
subject to subject, illuminating and refreshing, giving a
"lift" to any conversation they partake of, sometimes
unsparing, but oftener Irind. It's completely unlike the
Spanish-American satire, which I am now beginning to
understand, and which has its own value, though it is
mostly cruel and demolishing, and seems to suffer with
difficulty the neighbor's good fortune. January 26th.
Yesterday was the first reception at Chapultepec since
several weeks. We drove up during a chUl dropping of
the sun, to find quite a grouping of foreign and domestic
powers. The Corps Diplomatique was almost complete,
De Chambrun going with the Lefaivres. I talked with
Calero, and Vasquez Tagle, Minister of Justice, a scholar
of note, they tell me, deeply versed in law and of the
highest probity. Though he had a serious face, there
was a twinkle in his eyes.
N. walked up and down the terrace with the President
for a long time. He said he had a very interesting con
versation, accidentally turning on the claims of Ameri
cans who had been killed or wounded during the revo
lution, in El Paso and Douglas.. N., thinking it weU to
'(1917) Le Colonel de Chambrun, croix de guerre, grande croix de la
Legion d'Honneur, cite' many times a l'ordre de l'armee for deeds of
bravery, and once, in the autumn of 1915, "pour sa gait*; communicative
dans les tranchees" — so indicative of his special talents and great heart.
201

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
improve the shining hour, pointed out to the President
the special character of these claims; that during a
revolution by which he had estabHshed himself as Presi
dent of Mexico his soldiers, in taking positions held by
President Diaz's troops, had killed and wounded, on
American soU, several peaceful American citizens. This
constituted a claim that could not be denied by any
international tribunal, to say nothing of the violation
of American territory. N., finding Madero in optimis
tic mood (not that this is unusual), advised him strongly
to settle these claims, which were not large, and were
leading to much criticism of his government, when
things might go so pleasantly. He even quoted to him,
"Qui cito dat bis dat."
Madero repHed: "AU that wiU be settled in due time,
but he did not seem to feel that it was as important as
N. thought it was, saying, "They should have got out of
harm's way." He also said the amounts claimed were
exorbitant (that "madonna of the wash-tub" wanted
one hundred thousand dollars) and he did not see how,
without bringing the matters before a court of arbitra
tion, he could come to a decision as to proper compensa
tion. N. said that, as the question of Mexico's fiabifity
was certain, he need not be afraid to admit the vafidity
of the claims in principle — to get a good railroad lawyer
in Texas to find out for him how much such injuries
would be paid for by a raUroad company in event of
such injuries occurring on a United States Hne, and
then quadruple the amount. This seemed to make an
impression on him, but in the shifting sands of Mexican
Habilities wiU probably lead nowhere.
I found myself standing by  on the terrace,
after we had taken leave of Madame Madero, and as I
said good-by, I added, "Perhaps some day we wiU be
paying our respects to you here."
202

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Even in the sudden dusk that had fallen I saw flash
across his face in answer, as if written in words, the look
that men of ambitious temperament, gifted with wUl
and intelligence necessary to achievement, have had in
aU ages when the object of desire is mentioned. I
imagine he has little hope and no illusions about the
present situation. I am struck all the time by the
exceeding cleverness of the clever men here. What,
then, is the matter?
In the evening a very pleasant dinner at the French
Legation, iUuminated by several European stars, or
rather comets, as they quickly disappear from these
heavens. The Due de R. took me out. He is smaU, with clever,
unhappy eyes and the world-manner, with a hint of
introversion, most interesting. I found, when I came
to talk with him, that he was possessed of immense
knowledge, rendered fiving and actuel by his personaHty,
and his mentality is of that crystal type equally lucid in
the discussion of facts or ideas.
He has just returned from a trip through Oaxaca,
where he has large mining and raUway interests, and is
en route for Paris, via New York. He walked home
with us afterward, teUing us about that southern country,
which he knows as only one knows a country gone
through on horseback, and, of course, he was turning
the international flashlight on it all.
Mr. de Gheest sat on my other side. He has come on
a brief business visit with his handsome very jeunesse
dor6e son, Henri.1 I had never met them before, but
his charming wife and I have listened to Wagner cycles
together in Munich. They were married strangely
1 Henri de G. (Lieutenant 4th Zouaves), wounded at Verdun, June 9,
1916. Croix de guerre in Belgium, 1915, Legion d'Honneur, Verdun,
1916, 203

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
enough, in Mexico, and lived here for a while afterward.
M. de G. is trained and briUiant in discussion of inter
national affairs, witty, risque', and unsparing. They
come for lunch to-morrow. I must say I was what one
would call extremely well placed at table! January 27th.
Most amusing lunch here to-day, the GaUic sparks
flying in all directions! The De Gheests, De Chambrun,
the Lefaivres, AUart — and our Anglo-Saxon selves as
listeners. De G was very amusing about some business rendez
vous with Mexican banking associates. One important
meeting fell through because the banker's little grand
daughter was having a birthday. The second came to
grief because another luminary's wife's aunt's sister-in-
law, or some sort of remote relation, had died, and, of
course, it's a rather far journey from Paris to Mexico
to find oneseU tripping over family occurrences. . . .
Then we got on to the eternal land question. There's
a lot said about the 80 per cent, speaking out and asking
for land, but vox populi here bears very Httle resemblance
to vox dei, and it's only confusing when a few (generally
oppressors, not oppressed) do begin to mutter.
Madero walked to the presidency on the plank of the
distribution of land, which he promptly and inevitably
kicked from under him — it didn't, couldn't hold. It
appears that he bought from one of the computed two
hundred and thirty-two members of the family a large
tract of land in TamauHpas, but when it was parceled
out it came so high that no Indian could buy it, and
wouldn't have known what to do with it had he
bought it.
What he loves is his adobe hut running over with
children and surrounded by just enough land, planted
with com, beans, and peppers, not to starve on, when
204

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
worked intermittently, as fancy or the rainfall indicate.
The Indians certainly seem, under these conditions, a
thousand times happier than our submerged tenth, but
it's never any use comparing especially dissimilar mat
ters. Anybody who has been to Mexico, however,
loiows that the Indian of the adobe hut has little or no
qualification to permit of his being changed into a
scientific farmer by the touch of any wand. And as for
slogans! They're all right to get into office with, but
.try tilling the soil with them! January 31st, evening.
. . . And so the anniversaries come. I feel but a stitch
between your destiny and Elim's, holding the genera
tions together in my turn. I am distant from you, but
I embrace you all — the dear ones of my blood. I
realize the fortuitousness of mine and aU other human
experiences. I have never had the things I worked for,
prayed for, hoped for, but always something unexpected,
which showed itself as inevitable only after it had hap
pened, though at the time it seemed to come as a blow
or a gift, accidentaUy, unrelatedly. The path has al
ways lain where I never had an intimation of the tiniest
traU. "Strange dooms past hope or fear" of which
we aU partake. . . .

XVIII
Washington warns Madero — Mobilization orders — A visit to the Escuela
Preparatoria — A race of old and young — The watchword of the early
fathers February ist.
TO-DAY a military lunch — De Chambrun, Captain
Sturtevant, just leaving, and our new military
attache, Burnside, just arrived. Speculations as to the
potentialities of the situation put a bit of powder into
the menu, and the appearance of smaU fat ducks
awakened a few hunting reminiscences, but mostly it
was martial.
In the afternoon I made some calls with De C. First
to Mrs. Harold W.'s, where we actuaUy found an open
fire in the big, book-lined Hving-room. Some exotic-
looking logs of a wood priceless in other climes were
making a sweet and long-unheard, comfortable, sput
tering sound. She kept us waiting, though pleasantly,
while she donned a most becoming, diaphanous, fur-
trimmed, white chiffon tea-gown (the fair sex are apt
to dress for De C), coming down about twenty minutes
later, looking extremely pretty.
Mr. W., who is associated with one of the large oU
companies, came in just as we were leaving. There are
few combinations he does not understand about the
modern Mexican mentafity; but he views its varied
facets in a most enlightened way, and flings a kindly,
inexhaustible humor about it aU.
After that De C. paid his respects to Mrs. WUson,
206

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
who has just returned. She was looking very handsome
in her mourning garments, and De C. pronounced her
decidedly ambassadorial. We then wound up at the
French Legation, sitting for an hour in Mr. Lefaivre's
book-fiUed study, warmed by a weU-behaved little oil-
stove, fingering volumes of past poets, and talking pres
ent politics.
February 2d, Candlemas.
This is the day of the signing of the Guadalupe-
Hidalgo treaty terminating the war of 1847, which one
can only hope wiU continue to bear fruit. Its motto
is, "Peace, Friendship, Limits, Settlement," and there
is a street named for the auspicious document.
February 5th, evening.
Quite a flutter in town because of orders from Wash
ington yesterday for mobUization, or what amounts to
it; the mihtary forces being commanded by the War
Department to be ready for immediate concentration
on the border. Head-lines of the newspapers are al
most American in size and sensation.
The United States warns Madero that he must pro
tect Americans and American interests from injury by
rebels, and Mexican ears are to the ground, listening for
the possible tramp of American feet this side of the
Rio Grande. The government is distinctly discomfited.
They need to know exactly where they are "at" with
the United States, On ne fonde pas sur un sol qui
tremble. Poor Madero! Uneasy Hes the head that wears the
Mexican crown, except in the case of Don Porfirio, who
had a genius for meeting emergencies, increased by his
vast knowledge of men and conditions, acquired during
the hazards of his career before he became President,
and doubtless by the responsibilities afterward. Any-
207

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
way, the Mexicans are stepping lively, with their weather
eyes out. The old adage that the only thing they hate
more than an American is two Americans seems to be
to the fore. From the viewpoint of Mexican history,
we do rather appear as their predestined natural enemies
and not to be trusted along any line.
This morning I went with Mr. de Soto to visit the
Escuela Preparatoria. It is long since I had taken a
tournde with him, and it is just as weU to improve
the shining hours. No one knows when the trump wiU
sound. All is quiet in the house; N. is at the Embassy,
and won't be back tiU the small, wee hours.
The Escuela Preparatoria, most interesting, was for
merly the Colegio de San Ildefonso, which the Jesuits
completed in the middle of the eighteenth century, after
the order to consolidate their various schools and semi
naries into one. It covers an entire city block, and is
so massive that, though it is somewhat out of plumb, as
are most of the great edifices built on this soft soU, it
will long stay in place.
It is built of tezontle with a wine-colored staining,
and has noble, broad doors and rows of mediaeval-
looking windows piercing the facade, and altogether is
most imposing. As we passed in under the majestic
old doors, wide enough to admit a couple of coaches and
four abreast, students were being drilled in the beautiful
colonnaded patio, said to be a remnant of the immediate
post-Cortes period.
We went first to the Sala de Actas to see the famous
seventeenth-century choir-stalls, once the glory of the
San Agustin church. Everything one sees in Mexico
has been most provoldngly ripped from where it be
longed and put somewhere else. I got quite sad at the
thought of the continual transfers. Something beauti
ful always gets lost in the changes. 208

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
As I sat in one of the fine old seats, I discovered that
it had bits of "local color" in the shape of a monkey
and a parrot, cunningly but charmingly introduced among
more austere religious symbols; and when I folded up
the next seat I found a quite lovely carving, on the under
side, so that it looked equally well in use or disuse.
As we went up the broad stairway there was a scuffle
of young feet along one of the beautiful old arched cor
ridors, and a hurrying from one class-room to another,
just as so many generations before this had scuffled and
hurried, pushing on and being replaced. The founda
tion of the school as it now is dates from Juarez's
time, and was founded by a man called Gabino Barreda,
a disciple of Comte. Many of the Mexican elite who
did not or would not send their sons abroad were edu
cated here. Men like Justo Sierra and Limantour
passed through it, too.
When we got' up on to one of the great flat roofs, by
way of various interesting bits of stairs, the most
glorious sight was spread out. The volcanoes had such
long mantles of snow that they seemed encircled and
united by the same band of white. About us lay the
city with its sun-bathed domes and roofs, and Mr. de
S. quoted me the old lines, "Si a morar en Indias fueras
que sea donde los volcanes vieres." 1
I was horrified by the appearance of the Church of
Nuestra Senora de Loreto, built in the last century,
which was as eUsorienUe and uncertain-looking as Mexi
can politics. Mr. de S. said the sinking was not caused
by any disturbance of nature, but rather of man. There
was a difference of opinion among high ecclesiastical
authorities as to the materials to be used, so they decided
the issue by constructing one of the walls of hard stone,
1 "If thou goest to dwell in the Indies let it be where thou seest the
volcanoes." 209

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and the other of a more porous kind, with the result
that one side began straightway to sink. Now the
dome seems to be pulled down over it, the whole look
ing as if it might collapse entirely at any minute; so
we decided to visit it immediately, though it's always
a wrench to tear oneself from the enchantment of the
view in Mexico.
Journeying up from Tehuantepec, I came across a
passage in Amiel where he caUs a paysage un 6tat
d'dme not an 6tat d' atmosphere. Here it is both, for the
landscape is always wrapped in a wonder-working, al
most tangible air, which is able to induce something
mystical in the most practical or commercial soul.
When we descended into the streets on our way to
Nuestra Senora de Loreto they seemed particularly hu
man and detaUed, coming from that height, where
everything had been a splendid ensemble. The dip in the
long, Httle plaza is so apparent that you feel you may
get the whole structure on your head. It was fuU of
beggars hovering near venders of unhealthy, dusty,
highly colored sweets, or hawking hard green fruits
about. A green lime or orange can be a repast here.
At the church doors the beggars were lying or sitting
about, just fiving in their own particularly unconscious
way, descendants of those sin derechos y hechos of the old
days, and not a bit better off now, in spite of aU the
"Libertad" and "Fraternidad" and decrying of Span
ish and ecclesiastical government.
A beautiful Httle boy, covered partiaUy with the re
mains of a scarlet zarape and tattered white drawers
which revealed rather than concealed his brown hips,
carried, slung over his shoulders, two Hvely, coal-
black hens that he had evidently been sent out to vend.
Accompanying him was an old bHnd woman clutching
at a corner of. the zarape. It tugs at one's heart so,

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
all this beauty and aU this misery. We gave them
"centavitos," and the little boy's flashing smile and the
droning voice of the old woman — "Dios te lo pague,
nina" — as she heard the sound of the money, were
equally pathetic and mysterious.
So often it seems a race of very old and very young
here, nothing of the long maturity we know. An In
dian with gray hair, however, is a rarity; some atavism
when one sees it; and as they preserve their muscular
activity till a great age, it's impossible to say how old,
but the race gives a continual impression of just old
and young. February 6th.
Another agreeable dinner at the French Legation last
night. Maurice Raoul Duval1 and his English-Ameri
can wife recently arrived, struck a charming note of the
great and far world. He is a very tall, very good-looking
Frenchman, a polo-player and sportsman of note, hop
ing to remake, with interests here, a lost fortune.
An atmosphere of recent married happiness hung
about them, with the romantic adventure of Mexico as
background. His wife was handsome and sparkling in a white-
throated way, wearing a very good black dress and
wedding jewels. It was quite a treat to see something
new, we are all sick of one another's things. I am sure
if she had worn the waistband outside one would have
seen the word "Worth." They are to be here some
time, and will contribute to the gaiety of the nations
assembled in the vale of Anahuac.
Count du Boisrouvray 2 took me out. He is here to
1 Maurice Raoul Duval, + fallen on the field of honor, Verdun, May
5, 1916.
2 Count du Boisrouvray, 14th Hussards, promu chef de bataillon pour
faits de guerre. Chevalier de la Legion d'Honneur, croix de guerre,
many citations; the first to enter Thiaumont when it was retaken.
15 211

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
look after the large estates of his wife, who is now in
France, and whose mother, nee De la Torre, is Mexican.
Madame Lefaivre teUs me she is very beautiful and
gifted, the mother of many Httle chUdren. Monsieur
du B. is musical — plays the violonceUo Hke an artist.
A day or two ago, when I dropped into Madame Simon's
late in the afternoon, they were playing Mozart beauti
fully. The clever Frenchman's clever eye is on the
Mexican situation, and finds nothing encouraging,
"plutot le commencement de la fin." Though the French
may Hne every subject, conversationaUy, with the agree
able color of some theory, their minds are so constructed
that they can't reject facts.
February 7th.
Until the small, wee hours last night I was reading
a relation of the foundation of the bishoprics of Tlax
cala, Michoacan, and Oaxaca in the sixteenth century,
printed from the manuscripts in the collection of Don
Joaquin Garcia Icazbalceta, and published a few years
ago by his son, Don Luis Garcia Pimentel, possessed of
the finest Hispano-American library in Mexico.
The story of difficulties surmounted, the dangers over
come, the founding and buUding of the various churches
and schools and hospitals, is enthraUing, and made me
think a Httle of the Livre des Fondations of Saint
Theresa, that we read at Worishofen with so much pleas
ure. The account of the baptism of the four chiefs of
Tlaxcala, who had such distinguished godfathers as
Cortes, Pedro de Alvarado, Gonzalo de Sandoval, and
Cristobal de Ofid, make a page of the realistic school of
to-day seem like a record of tawdry dreams.
The faces of these early bishops and priests of Mexico
are extraordinary. The life is concentrated in and be
tween the eyes, the foreheads are those of thinkers, the
212

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
lines about the mouths, compassionate, yet unflinching,
are those of workers, and, however different the actual
structure of the faces, the expression is the same. I
found a couple of old engravings the other day, one of
Las Casas, and one of Ripalda, yellowed, stained, evi
dently torn out of some old book. The tale of labors
and difficulties overcome is stamped upon their faces.
Their watchword was "Al rey infinitas tierras, y a
Dios infinitas almas,"1 and I can't but think that our
political slogans seem a bit shabby in comparison. Our
Monroe doctrine, which controls their destinies, our
doUar diplomacy, and aU the rest, make but a poor
figure.
Evening.
Under the impression of the foundations of the
Bishops of Tlaxcala, etc., I strayed into the Biblioteca
Nacional on my way home after some errands. It is
what once was one of the most beautiful churches in
Mexico, San Agustin, buUt at the end of the seventeenth
century. What remains of the old atrium is rather spoiled by
being inclosed with a high iron raifing; but in it stands
a statue of my friend Humboldt, whose soul perceived the
"splendors of this Indian world." It is a most charm
ing bunding to come upon in those busy, modern streets,
where bankers raise and lower the exchange, and the
"interests" have their visible habitats. One is thank
ful for every good old stone that has been left upon an
other good old stone in Mexico, and the old buUding
has a beautiful tiled dome in the Mudejar style (Moorish-
Christian), with arabesque designs and a charming fa-
gade. The modern iron railing is decorated with busts
of the Mexican great, in early- Victorian style, from the
days of Nezahualcoyotl down to Alaman. But the
1 "For the king infinite lands, and for God infinite souls."
213

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
beautiful old basso rilievo of San Agustin over the main
door tells you unmistakably that the ages of faith were
also the ages of art.
I wrestled with the catalogues, and found they always
referred me to others of various dates, like 1872 and
1 88 1. I spoke with several very vague and exceedingly
poHte officials. I dare say my Spanish contributed to
the vagueness. The library is very rich in books relat
ing to the labors of the Church in New Spain, and in
general of the history of the post-Conquest period. The
huge reading-room was once the great central nave of
the church, and a flood of white light pours in through
high octagonal windows. Any time any one moved or
walked there was the sound as of an army. It was
the wooden floor acting in unison with the unsurpassed
acoustic qualities of the nave.
Over all was a stiU, deathly cold that froze the gray
matter stiff. Some students, looking a lead color under
their rich, natural tone, were noisUy turning over the
pages of their books, and an old man with a green shade
and a magnifying glass was looking at a manuscript.
Otherwise empty space. The reading Mexicans are, I
fancy, mostly engaged in trying to sustain or destroy
Madero. In 1867 Benito Juarez issued the decree which estab
lished the Biblioteca Nacional, and they got the books
from the university, and various monasteries and col
leges were also emptied of their treasures. The night
library was formerly a chapel of the third order of San
Agustin, and I was told by some sort of attendant only
remotely interested in the world of books that there was
once a celebrated old walnut choir, with the richest carv
ings, which I could now find in the Escuela Preparatoria.
It reminded me of the catalogues and he looked like what
in "The Isles" Humboldt says they call un monsieur
214

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
passable. He thinks he's white — you know he isn't; but
one leaves it at that.
Life is short, even here, and art is long, and I think I
will send to New York for anything they have in it that
I might want. February 7th.
Orozco denies any disloyalty to Madero, or that
Chihuahua is about to secede, but he does say in Span
ish, probably still less elegant, something to the effect
that Madero can't do the "Mexican trick."
When Madame Madero called yesterday her rather
halting remark that Orozco es muy leal (Orozco is very
loyal) was unconvincing, but of course they must hope.
She was in dark, rich garments, somewhat too heavy in
cut and texture for her size, with a very imposing plume-
loaded hat over her pale, tired face. She now wears a
beautiful string of pearls. All the life is in her vigilant
eyes, and if there is an iron hand in the family, it is hers.
Madame Ernesto Madero, very pretty in the dark,
flashing-eyed, color-coming-and-going-way, also called
and said, as a charming girl might have said it, that
she was muy paseadora.
Vasquez Gomez, a day or two since, proclaimed him
self provisional President, and has quite a tidy follow
ing, with the "seat" of government in Juarez. It would
seem the presidential bee buzzes under any hat ! More
and more I ask myself, Why try government according
to our pattern ? I can't see that ours is just the cut for
them. There is another cold wave, or onda fria, as they call
the dreadful things. This one timed itself for a little
dinner I was giving for Mr. Potter and Mr. Butler. The
dining-room, into which I cast a glance before going to
the drawing-room, looked very conducive with its flow
ers and shaded lights. The stove appeared a model of
215

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
heat-giving. Well, we had just got to the fish when it
not only emitted a column of smoke, but it blew up!
It was removed, and after a disturbed interval the
dinner proceeded to the accompaniment of polite sug
gestions as to the removal of "blacks" that descended,
from time to time, on the faces and shoulders of the
diners. As we were leaving the dining-room somebody
remarked that there was a smell of burning, and in the
drawing-room the oil-stove's mate was found to be doing
the most awful things in the line of Popocatepetl, when
Cortes passed by the first time. It was also removed.
Madame Lefaivre suggested at this point that we had
better frankly accept le temps comme le bon Dieu V avail
envoys, so scarfs and shawls were brought, with sugges
tions of overcoats. Everybody began to smoke and we
got out the bridge-tables. They refused to play bridge,
however, with my nice Vienna packs of cards, which are
innocent of numbers at the corners. After a while, with
the smoking, the process of digestion, the jokes, the
companionship in misery, things got better, and the
little party broke up at only one o'clock, very late for
Mexico. They said they were too cold to go home. It
was a fine sample of the "tropics."
At Von H.'s dinner for the Minister of Foreign Affairs,
the other night, it was even worse. His large drawing-
rooms are to the north, though his stoves were working
auf commando. After the long and elaborate dinner,
during which the fair sex were visibly "all goose-flesh,"
we had our wraps brought and turned up our fur collars,
which put a different complexion on events and ladies.

XIX
A tragic dance in the moonlight — Unveiling George Washington's statue
— The Corps Diplomatique visits the Pyramids of San Juan Teoti-
huacan — Orozco in full revolt February 10th.
WE were all awakened last night by a terrible, inhu
man, mewing sound coming from the patio. It
reminded us of "The White Leper" of Kipling. The
moon was chiseling every stone and plant in the court
yard; a smaU light was in the porter's room, where a
struggle seemed to be going on. AU of a sudden a tall,
stark-naked Indian, with his arms held stiff above his
head, burst out and began to dance about in the moon
light, making strange passes and dippings of the body
before something imaginary; there was a sort of sacri
ficial gesturing to his madness.
N. got his revolver and started down-stairs, fearing
homicidal mania, when suddenly he threw himself in a
corner, huddled up, and became unconscious. After a
long delay the men came from the manicomio (mad
house) and his body was picked up Hke a loose bundle;
but I felt as if I never needed to read about prehistoric,
sacrificial rites — I had seen them in the moonlight, in
the person of that poor Indian, gone insane.
I went down to see Magdalena, his mother, later on.
She was sitting with her head in her hands in the little
porter's lodge, surrounded by two or three of his children.
He is a "widower." When she saw me she suddenly
cried out, "Senora, mi hijo! mi hijo!" and her old eyes
217

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
looked at me with the mother-look of helpless compas
sion for suffering sons through the ages — tearless, per
sonal, tortured. I was troubled and saddened as I came
up the stairway into the sunny veranda. But at the
potent hour of pulque I heard sounds which, though not
of mirth, seemed consoling. February 13th.
Pleasant luncheon here today — the Raoul Duvals,
and De Chambrun, who is returning to Washington
to-morrow, after which we all predict a total eclipse of
the sun. The more I see of him the more I appreciate
that French imaginative, speculative, analytical, yet con
structive type of mind, with its flashing play of wit, its
easy intellectuality, always ready to look at the most
personal thing impersonally ; this last so precious in the
interchange of thought; and it's aU very much in refief
against this Latin-American background, where every
thing is always passionately personal.
De C. told us of his visit to the prison of San Juan
Ulua, when he was last in Mexico. Evidently it is a
horror. Madero had sworn that one of his first acts
would be to do away with it, but there it is still. Nobody
really trusts the situation here. Some one remarked that
the quiet before something dreadful is going to happen
is what is known as peace in Mexico. De C. had been off
for a few days with the army, in the adjacent scenes of
action. A general showed him his school medals by the
camp-fire. One was for French, of which he did not
know a word; the other was for geography, and he
seemed to hear of Morocco for the first time by that
same firelight. However, aU he really needs to know is
where the Zapatistas are.
The R. D.'s have taken a furnished house in CaUe
Dinamarca. Everybody flies, as soon as possible, from
the evident evils of the hotels to any kind of unknown.
218

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
They came in, looking so smart, she in a dark-blue taUor
and a chic, flower-covered purple hat.
The plateau is thawed out again, and we will have no
more cold this year. They tell me March and April are
the warmest months here, before the rains begin to
announce themselves.
February iglh.
This morning, in a flood of sun, but with a "tang" in
the early air, we went to meet Aunt L., and now she is
comfortably resting with a book, not about Mexico.
February 22d.
This auspicious day was celebrated here by the
unveifing of the large monument in white marble of
George Washington in the Glorieta Dinamarca. The
official Mexican world was out in force, also the diplo
mats. AU the Americans in town, in whose hearts he
was, indeed, first that day, watched the faUing of the
cloth from the face and form of the immortal George.
Platforms had been built around the circle, the police
kept beautiful order, and it might have been an "un
veiling" anywhere, except for the outer fringe of peaked-
hatted pelados (skinned ones) , who gather wherever any
are gathered in any name.
I was deeply thrilled as the well-known features showed
themselves, and our national air, beautifully played, rose
to the shining heavens. The figure is standing, clad in
a long cloak, and can be seen from the four streets
leading into the circle.1 The President gave a short
address, and Mr. Wilson made one of his finished speeches
— a happy combination of Stars and Stripes and Eagle
and Cactus. I saw Aunt L.'s eyes fill as our looks met.
1 This statue was thrown down and dragged through the city the night
of the breaking off of relations between the United States and Mexico
(April 23, 1914). 219

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
They do stir one, these commemorations in foreign lands,
where one feels to its fuUest the privilege and pride of
participation in a great citizenship. February 25th.
Yesterday I had a luncheon for Aunt L. Baroness
Riedl, Madame Chermont, Mrs. Cummings and Mrs.
Chemidfin (these latter friends of many years), Mrs.
Brown, Mrs. KUvert, and Mrs. Hudson came. In the
evening we dined at the Embassy. I thought it warm
and spring-like, but Aunt L., though pUed with furs,
nearly froze. It evidently isn't with impunity that one
comes up from the tropics to visit a niece on the plateau.
February 28th.
I am feeling a bit fagged this morning after the inter
esting, but quite exhausting, official "picnic" yesterday,
to the celebrated pyramids of San Juan Teotihuacan,
offered to the Corps Diplomatique by the Gobierno.
We met at the Buena Vista station for an 8.30 special
train— a rather motley assemblage of some fifty or sixty
persons, those who had the habit of jaunts in their
blood, and those who had not.
The weather was the usual lustrous thing, only to be
matched in beauty by what we had had the day before,
and what we will have to-morrow. I looked about the
various groups of senoras and wondered would they
hold out, their garbs not being for such occasions.
One of the ladies asked me and Baroness Riedl if we
were sisters. We look more unlike than Thorwaldsen's
"Night and Morning," but we decided afterward that,
as we had on tailored suits, white blouses with lace-
trimmed jabots, small hats, neat veils, tan shoes, and
parasols, we must have presented a certain superficial
likeness of origin and atmosphere.
The Mexican women were mostly dressed in semi-
220

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
evening gowns, spangles, paillettes, passemeterie, pre
senting all sorts of touches, as they caught the light,
not connected in the Anglo-Saxon mind with picnics.
They also wore smaU, high-heeled, patent-leather slip
pers, and were accompanied by ninos of various ages.
You go out of the city by the hill of Tepeyac, where
the Church of the Virgin of Guadalupe is. All along the
road are still to be seen dilapidated "Stations of the
Cross," refics of the viceregal days, among the shunt
ing tracks and railway-supply buUdings.
There was a settling down of the elements of the
party, foreign and domestic naturaUy gravitating to
their kind, as we roUed out. The President and his wife,
his mother and father, his two sisters, Madame Gustavo
Madero, and various other members of the famUy were
with us. Also the Vice-President and his family. After
about an hour we got to the Httle village of San Juan
Teotihuacan, where all sorts of venders of all sorts of
antiquities, Httle clay pots, masks, bits of obsidian,
charms of bloodstone, were ready for us. We climbed
down the steep embankment and got into various "buck-
boards," I suppose they would call themselves, without
any "buck," however, which were waiting to take us
across a sandy stretch to the pyramids, which had
seemed only insignificant mounds as we steamed over
the glittering plain.
Our first destination was the Pyramid of the Sun,
gigantic, impressive, as we neared it, and one of the
few things giving a feeling of stability that I have seen
in Mexico. The Minister of Public Instruction and
Fine Arts, as we started out over the Path of the Dead,
(Micoatl), was the cock of that special walk, almost put
ting Madero in the shade, figuratively, however, as
there was not a tree within mUes. The two principal
pyramids, dwellings of the gods, were dedicated to Tona-
221

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
tiuh, the sun, and Miztli, the moon, but there are many
smaller pyramids, supposed to be dedicated to various
stars, and which once served as burial-places for remote,
illustrious dead.
As we climbed up the great- hewn steps, grass-grown,
with all sorts of cacti making unexpected appearances,
I could but think of the small mark the generations
make in passing, and "Why so hot, my Httle man?"
When N. started up with Baroness R., one of the ladies
said to her: "Why are you going up, and what wiU you
do when you get up?" Baroness R. said, "We are
going to take a look about, and come down." She
glanced rather desperately at the pyramid and then
at her tiny, patent-leather-slippered feet, which must
have been in a condition fit for sacrifice in that broUing
sun. She finished by sitting down on the first step with
some other high-heeled ladies, with the same feelings
and the same clothes.
It was a magnificent sight, once up there; the sofitary
eminence on which we stood put every thing in a won
derful perspective. Formerly on the apex of the pyramid
there had been a splendid temple, containing a gigantic
statue of the sun, made of a single block of porphyry,
and ornamented with a heavy breastplate of gold. But
I was more interested in Madero, once, at least, a demi
god, viewing from this great height kingdoms and prin
cipalities given into his keeping.
His expression was soft and speculative as he gazed
about him, not of one who is tempted to gather things
to himself, for himself; and I must say that, as I looked,
I entirely acquitted him of personal ambitions. He
seemed strangely removed from the difficulties of his
situation, as materially and spiritually lifted above
them as he was above the shining plain; but in the
city, glistening in the distance, intrigues and dissolv-
222

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ing forces of all kinds were at work against him. The
far and splendid hills to which he perhaps may some
day flee showed horizons of cobalt and verde antique,
and they, as weU as we, were folded in a dazzling
ambience. However, you have little time for dreams on official
picnics — for just as I was, so to speak, partie — polite yet
firm-willed photographers began to shove the living
units into their proper places, with a special rounding
up of the high-fights of the assembly, domestic and
foreign, after which we descended.
I had my usual horrid sensation of falfing as I looked
from that great height down those huge steps between
me and the not less sofid earth. Mr. Madero gave me
his arm and, somehow, I got down. A fierce sun was
shining on us and reverberating from the dry plain as
we made our way to the newly opened museum, where
a very complete collection of objects, found around the
pyramids, was carefully arranged in handsome glass
cases ; for some years, so el Seiior Ministro told me, the
government had been excavating, and countless terra
cotta masks, similar to those which abounded on the
Isla de las Mugeres, off the coast of Yucatan, had been
unearthed. There was also a beautiful collection of jade
objects, effigies, and masks of dead rulers; on the brow
of one of the finest specimens was a diadem, or copilla,
as the ancient Mexican crown was called.
If I hadn't been simply done up by the heat I would
have been most interested in going over the coUection,
for the endless terra-cotta heads and masks, with entirely
different features, mark the different races who have
inhabited the plateau. My friend Humboldt, with whom
I spent the evening, also the early night hours, and who
had done the same thing just a hundred years ago, says
the teocaUi were orientes as exactly as the Egyptian
223

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and Asiatic pyramids, and that the race the Spaniards
found there attributed them to a stUl more ancient race,
which would place them in the eighth or ninth century.
They are composed of clay mixed with gravel, and cov
ered with a wall of amygdaloid. What seems to be a
system of pyramids is disposed in very large streets, fol
lowing exactly the meridians, and which end at the four
faces of the two great pyramids.
After an hour in the museum, which seemed quite an
hour, I must say, there was a welcome announcement of
lunch, and we walked along a path called "Camino de
Muertos,"1 "walk of the half-dead," one of the exhausted
foreigners called it, and descended into the cool dimness
of a great and beautiful grotto, where long tables, flower-
decorated and elaborately spread, awaited us.
The Corps Diplomatique sat at the President's table;
Von Hintze was between Baroness Riedl and myself, and
an unidentified Mexican official or member of the dynasty
was on my other side. The lunch was sent out from
town by Sylvain and was most excellent. We could
look out at a great patch of blue sky, and fringing the
brilfiant edges of the grotto were various cacti and rows
of peaked hats and a single graceful pepper-tree. The
Indians always spring up, as if by magic, from any
place where there is a gathering.
N. and Riedl, instead of taking seats at the President's
table, sat at a small table back of us, and we knew from
their unseemly mirth that they weren't talking about
the antiquities or improving their minds in any way.
After luncheon we all repaired to the Pyramid of the
Moon, which nobody had the energy to ascend, going
over a sidewalk made of ancient cement stUl bearing
traces of red color. One of the smaller mounds had been
opened by Senor Batres a few years before, and he found
1 Pathway of the dead.
224

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
around and over it a building now called the "House of
the Priests."
At this special place even the most enterprising of the
foreigners began to wUt, and some polychrome frescoes
are the last definite impression I received before we
started back to the buckboards. The  minister,
sitting too near the wheel, to pofitely make room, got
jolted out, but we picked him up and soothed him by
singing his national anthem as we went toward the
train. It was a long day, but one to be kept in memory with
its background of obsidian, red clay masks, idols of
jade, and works of a past race against which Mexican
history continues to unfold itself.
February 2gth.
It is not leap-year which is occupying our thoughts
down here. Orozco is openly in full revolt. With him
are some thousands of troops and the whole state of
Chihuahua.

XX
Madero shows indications of nervous tension — Why one guest of Mexico's
President did not sit down — A novena with Madame Madero — Pict
ure-writing on maguey — Picnic at El Desierto — San Fernando March 3d.
YESTERDAY Mr. Taft issued a wise proclamation
directing citizens of the United States to comply
strictly with the neutrality laws between our country
and Mexico tUl there is a change in conditions, which
gave rise to various expressions of satisfaction at a large
luncheon at Madame Simon's.
I sat by Mr. Chevrillon, a French mining expert since
many years in Mexico, and also having a wide experience
of our own southwest. He told strange mining stories;
one about an ancient whip he once found in a remote
chamber in an old mine, with a lash so long that it was a
mystery how it could have been used in the smaU spaces.
A detail, but it gave me a sudden, shivering glimpse into
the sufferings of subject peoples. However, it's no use
throwing stones at Spain for not having practised poHt
ical liberty in those centuries. As we know it to-day, it
was nowhere existent. It had not even begun to glim
mer on any horizon, and certainly Mexico has Hved
through a terrible century since its light dawned on her.
March 7th.
At the Chapultepec reception to-day one felt the
tension. Madero was walking up and down the terrace with
226

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
his new private secretary, Gonzales Garza, clad in some
sort of a dark suit, with a conspicuous peacock-blue vest,
doubtless a family offering. His glance was more than
usuaUy visionary and introverted, his unacquisitive
hands were behind his back; but can Mexico be gov
erned by a well-disposed President from Chapultepec
terrace? He has a way of avoiding facts, which, in the
end, are sure to hit somebody as the national destinies
take their course. One can only hope his sterling hon
esty will see him safely through the snares that are
spread everywhere.
As I talked with him on the sun-flooded terrace above
the gorgeous vaUey , with all Mexican creation at our feet,
though he had his usual smUe, I noted many wrinkles,
as he stood bareheaded, and it was difficult to fix his
eye, an honest eye.
The new Minister of the Interior, Flores Magon, took
me out to tea. He is a huge, square-faced Zapotec
Indian, rather portly — which they rarely are — with
straight, black hair, a strong jaw, and observant eyes.
The foreigner on the other side of me — whether his tale
be true or apocryphal I know not — related that on his
last visit to Madero, as he was about to sink into an
inviting armchair he was hastily asked not to take it,
for at that moment it was occupied by George Wash
ington! As his surprised person was suspended over
another and was half-way down, he was waved to still
a third, for in the second was sitting Jean Jacques
Rousseau! After which, fearful of incommoding other
Ulustrious dead, he remained standing. Si non e Verdi
e bene Trovatore.
Madero has a certain natural inclination toward the
French, fostered by those years at the VersaUles Lycee,
without, however, any of their logic or genius for facts,
and he often converses vaguely, but admiringly, about
16 227

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the French Revolution. They say he sleeps with _Le
Contrat Social under his piUow. He has not a single
suspicion of the Anglo-Saxon mind, nor of that com
posite and extremely personal affair we caU the national
conscience; and stUl he is supposed to govern his coun
try after our pattern. The whole seemed unrelated to
the situation.
In fact, I told Aunt L., as we came away, that I didn't
think the loggias and terraces are good for his psychol
ogy. You have no need for the firm hand when you are
looking out upon a valley swimming in a strange trans
parency, where the lulls seem of purest mother-of-pearl,
inevitably leading to golden streets, not black heaps of
earth peopled by passionate, starving human beings.
Am now off to the Red Cross. It is temporarily sta
tioned in a beautiful old Spanish house, with a garden,
and a large patio and fountain in the middle, and doors
opening on to it, in the CaUe Alamo, a once fashionable
part of town. Mexico was almost the last country to
join the Red Cross organization. March nth, evening.
At the reception at Chapultepec I found I had, by a
curious chance, arranged with Madame Madero to make
a novena with her to the Guadalupe shrine. Whatever
reliance she may have had on accidental spirits in the
past, I now see her having recourse to the one Great
Spirit, the Cause of Causes. I don't feel unassailable by
the chances of life myself.
She has been coming for me the past three mornings
in the big presidential auto. N. and Aunt L. are thank
ful to see me return; they think a bomb, aimed at the
conveyance fuU of piety, would not be beyond the
bounds of possibUity. I am sure Madame M. would
do the distance gladly on her knees, instead of in the
big car; her passionate solicitude for her husband's
228

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
welfare has no limits, and she means to compel what
ever powers there be to take the kingdom of heaven by
violence, if need be. Like all people who are playing
with great chances, she is, I fancy, superstitious. She
arises very early, attends Mass, begins her day's work,
and is at our house from the castle at 9.30, apparently
going the rest of the day at the same high pressure.
I gather they prefer De la Barra not to return ; indeed,
the faces of any darken at the mention of other possible
candidates for public favor. Jealousies and struggles of
individual ambition are more evident than struggles for
principles in this most personal of aU games, Mexican
politics. There was not a hint of any poHtical happening on
her part, nor on mine, as I got into the motor this morn
ing. She told me about the six children they have
adopted at one time or another, according to various
exigencies ; all the children too small to make an appear
ance, however, on the presidential stage.
An Indian boy ran across our path and was knocked
down by the auto, just as we were going through the
teeming suburb of Peralvillo. In a moment a crowd
gathered about us, giving vent to growls. We stopped
and got out of the motor. The boy, fortunately, was
not injured, and he was wearing few garments to dust.
We gave him money, and the mollified parents, pulque-
eyed and battered, received him tenderly, plus money
and minus hurt, so we were able to drive on through
the soft, shimmering morning, out the broad Calzadato
to Our Lady of Guadalupe. . . .
We came back through the old Plaza of Tlaltelolco,
where the Church of Santiago still exists, though now
the yards of the National Railways surround it, and it
is used to store cotton and grain, the customs, too,
having offices there. It was formerly connected with
229

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mexico City by canals instead of these dusty streets,
getting dustier every year, as the volume of water
decreases in the valley.
Here Cortes found the great market he described in
his letter to Charles V., and here Fray Gante taught the
Indians for fifty years. Here, too, the first Bishop of
Mexico is said to have carried into effect his unfort
unate idea of gathering a pile of Aztec hieroglyphics,
on cotton, maguey, or deerskin; and pUing them moun
tain high; according to the historian, Ixtlilxochitl, he
had them set afire. Now there are only squalid rem
nants of that civUization, here and there ancient corner
stones on which dUapidated mesones, lodging-houses for
men and beasts, show themselves.
But, somehow, when one peeps in at the little court
yards the Hfe itself doesn't seem so squalid. Any patio
you look into has a bit of color in the way of a chUd or a
flower or a bright bit of garment. I thought of the three
patrician women who, during the siege of Mexico, stood
for several days up to their necks in water with only a
handful of corn for nourishment, and of the last and
noble Aztec king, Cuauhtemoc,1 who, at the hour of
Vespers, fell into the Spaniards' hands, and was brought
1 This is the prince who was taken by Cortfe on his Honduras expedi
tion with the kings of Texcoco and Tacuba. As punishment for plot
ting to escape they were hanged head downward from a tree in the
wilderness. Humboldt saw this represented in a hieroglyphic painting
in the convent of San Felipe Neri, and even Bernal Diaz relates that the
companions in arms of Cortes were "much shocked" at the occurrence.
Now Cuauhtemoc stands in gold and bronze in one of the glorietas
of the beautiful Paseo, high on a marble column, with Aztec devices on
base and plinth, where he can keep watch on his hills and volcanoes and
lakes. He sustained the siege of Mexico for seventy-nine days, and the
inscription says, "to the memory of Cuauhtemoc and those warriors who
fought heroically in defense of their country MDXXI." Diaz and his
then Minister of Public Works, Riva Palacio, MDCCCLXXVII, ordered
it to be erected, and later it was finished under Manuel Gonzalez and his
Minister of Public Works, MDCCCLXXXII. 230

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
to Cortes as he was standing on the terrace of a house
in Tlaltelolco, watching the operations.
Cortes asked him to be seated, but the young king
put his hand on a poignard that Cortes carried in his
belt and asked him to kiU him, because, having done
what he could to save his kingdom and his people, it
only remained for him to die. He was the son-in-law
of Montezuma, and was escaping in a canoe with his
young wife, just emerging into womanhood, when he
was captured. History is so evident here and so in
relief — I have never Hved in a place where the past
follows and arrests one as here, though I doubt if Madame
Madero, trying to pierce the heavy curtain of the future,
gave it a thought this morning.
March 12th.
The Blair Flandraus are here now, visiting Madame
BoniUa. He is the "brother" in that delightful book,
Viva Mexico, that I sent you, and meeting him made
me remember a line where one brother says to the
other brother, "What very agreeable people one runs
across in queer, out-of-the-way places," meaning them
selves, and quite warranted, as I have discovered.
I had a luncheon to-day for Mrs. Flandrau, and
Madame BonUla, Madame del Rio, Madame Simon, and
Madame Scherer came. In the afternoon bridge at
Madame Bonilla's, at which husbands and also the
unattached and solitary appeared. In Mexico, when
you have spent one part of the day with people, it isn't,
as in more conventional dimes, a reason for avoiding
them the other hours.
We are all rather amused by the visible romance of
a young querido (lover) who stands for hours leaning
against the garden rail of a big, handsome house in the
Calle Liverpool, wherein his inamorata dwells. The irate
father has just built a trelfis above the waU, gardeners
231

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
are busy, and the quickly growing vines wiU soon make
it a rather bootless pastime for the young man to pelar
la pava. The girl is watched every moment, quite in
the way of old dramas concerning unwelcome lovers,
determined Dulcineas, and vigUant duennas.
March 14th.
Went to the French Legation this afternoon, where
one of Madame Lefaivre's pleasant "days" was in full
swing. I met there the Marquis de Guadalupe (Rincon
Gallardo), very pofished and agreeable, and we looked
at a most interesting old book of picture-writing on
maguey, which shut up like a folding screen, with a
piece of wood at each end to hold it fast. We opened
it out on Mr. Lefaivre's long study table. It was of
silky, papery fiber, as smooth to the touch as to the eye.
Across strong, blue-black grounds were pictures of hunt
ing scenes, or scenes of vengeance — hounds let loose
from the leash, springing at Indians whose eyes bulged
with terror. Forests were depicted and dark men enter
ing them, and footmarks ; a babe was being held to the
heavens, and groups of Indians were selling and buying,
bending over mats on which their wares were laid out,
as to-day.
The Marquis thought it wasn't Aztec, but must have
belonged to the period immediately succeeding the Con
quest, as there was a Moorish touch to head-dress and
garments. Mr. Lefaivre thought it was perhaps one
of the cunningly wrought impostures of the sixteenth
century. It was for sale for some thousands of pesos
and in exceUent condition. Life sometimes seems like
it here.
Secretary Stimson has poured oil on the troubled
waters by saying there is no thought of intervention
in Mexico for pacification and otherwise, but it's all a
232

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
playing with fire — and a good many American and
Mexican fingers are like to be burnt. It would seem
'twere better to let the Mexican revolutions quietly
simmer tiU they boU dry — we can't do a Httle; aU or
nothing. I must say I have some sympathy with Madero, for,
having aUowed him to "use" the border for equipping
and organizing his revolution, he now naturally wonders
at our coldness. It's all a puzzle, whichever way one
looks. I keep thinking of Don Porfirio's watch on
Mexico; what he knew would happen is happening.
Prophets may not only be stoned, but justified, in their
own country.
The Senate has wisely adopted a resolution authoriz
ing the President to prohibit shipments of war materials
into Mexico — at least we won't be feeding fuel to the
Mexican fires.
March 16th.
This afternoon I went out late with Madame Lefaivre;
she had come to inquire for Elim, who has had some
mysterious aUment which has kept me hanging over his
bed in terror for two days. We drove up the Paseo in
her victoria, and by the statue of the "Independencia"
got out and walked about the broad space surrounding it.
Night was near, though not yet fallen, and the sun
had disappeared behind Chapultepec. In the changing
Hght the stars shone in the heavens with a brUHancy I
have scarcely ever seen in deepest night. They illu
minated a pale-blue dome which had a sort of faded
sunset lining. I looked up and saw the Southern Cross,
the glory of these skies, hanging just above the horizon,
and came home touched and quieted by the beauty of
it all, to find my babe awake, in a gentle moisture, the
fever gone. So often in Mexico the natural changes
bring personal help. 233

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
March 17th, evening.
To-day a delightful picnic at the famous "Desierto,"
the old Carmelite monastery, deep in one of the splendid
forests of the Ajusco hUls off the Toluca road.
We met, about fifteen merrymakers, in front of Mr.
Potter's house, in the Calle Durango, one of the newest
of streets in the newest of the "colonias." AU were
loudly congratulatory when we appeared, about "St.
Patrick's Day in the morning." After a careful packing
in of baskets, bottles, and other paraphernalia which
always flow most lavishly from Mr. Potter's house, we
started out in a long line — where, however, the disad
vantages of companionship were soon apparent, as the
dust got the hindmost with a vengeance.
It being more necessary to keep the ambassador
dusted than lesser objects, he led off, arriving with his
luster undimmed. As we passed through Tacubaya, the
Sunday market was going its usual picturesque pace,
and the traU of equality and fraternity we left behind
dimmed many eyes and wares. Once on the high
Toluca road we could spread out more, distance lend
ing a decided enchantment.
At Santa Fe, in the great ravine where there has
been a powder-factory for a hundred years or so, were
unwonted signs of activity. After a stiff bit of steep,
broken road, we left the motors in a blessed, grassy,
dustless spot, and began a long and lovely walk, through
a forest of magnificent oaks and pines. The lovefiest of
ferns grew beneath them, and there were thick carpets
of green and gray mosses, patterned with bright, flowery
patches. There was the sweet sound of rushing waters,
so rare on the plateau, and occasionally there was a sud
den rustle to show that we had surprised some wild
living thing, and twice we saw some deer.
One scarcely ever hears of the Mexicans hunting their
234

AT EL DESIERTO, APRIL 29, I912
(Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and Elim in the foreground)

LUNCHEON AT THE VILLA DES ROSES
In front row (left to right) Mr. de Vilaine, Mile, de Treville, Ambassador Wilson,
Madame Lefaivre,. Mr. J. B. Potter, Mr. Rieioff (German Consul-general), Mrs.
Nelson O'Shaughnessy, Von Hintze, Mr. Kilvert. Mr. Seger

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
game, though there are occasional shooting parties tow
ard the lakes where the wild duck abound. Some one
remarked they would seem to be too busy stalking one
another. The Riedls, the Bonillas, Von Hintze (who is
not much given to picnicking on Sunday, generally
spending the holy day hunting the perpetrators of the
Covadonga outrage of last July), Mr. Potter, Mr. Butler,
their English friend Mr. Leveson, Mr. Seeger, the am
bassador and ourselves, made rather an imposing array as
we proceeded through the wUderness, which, however,
was "paradise enow."
As you know, when picnickers get hold of a joke noth
ing but separation or annihilation causes them to let it
go, and Mr. Potter started a gentle but persistent one
as we walked along, about not fearing snakes, as the
presence of the O'Shaughnessys in a forest on St.
Patrick's Day could not do less than rid the paths
of them or analogous reptiles. I was sorry we didn't
meet a boa-constrictor, so that he might have said his
neglected Sunday prayers. It was so delightful, under
the shade of the great trees, the sun filtering through
with such a fresh warmth, and the birds singing so
sweetly upon what seemed, indeed, a snakeless paradise
that we were positively sorry to come upon the deep,
flat space that holds the old monastery, near whose
walls a long table, evidently known to generations of
picnickers, was waiting to groan with our twentieth-cen
tury edibles.
After we had bestirred ourselves with the unpacking,
festivities proceeded as if on a stage. We were almost
immediately surrounded by dozens of Indians, men,
women, and chUdren, who furtively and fortuitously
inhabit various parts of the old cloister. During and
afterward they received the overflow from "Dives's
table." Several little tots found pieces of ice, which
231

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
they carried off in the greatest excitement — doubtless
never seen before, and overrated as to nutritive quafities.
We refreshed ourselves to the usual accompaniment
of quips about Hfe in general, and in particular what
each would do, especially the fair sex, if surprised by
Zapatistas — who give a spice of danger to festivities in
these parts — as "Emiliano's" capital is only over the
near-by blue hills. There was an exceedingly knotty
and delicate question hovering in the air, as to whether,
in the event of the Zapatistas performing their usual
rites of removing garments, "would it be better to be
with friends or strangers. "
Suppositions about Mexico's future bind every assem
blage together, and Riedl insisted on conversing only in
a strange and ingenious language of his invention, com
posed of Portuguese, picked up in Rio, Itafian in Rome,
and Spanish in Madrid and here — too amusing and clever
for words, and something new to the echoes of that spot.
As he said, "What's the use of travefing if you don't
learn something?" And he insisted on sitting near
part of his own contribution to the picnic, a long and
very special kind of salami (sausage) from his native
land, to be taken with some equally celebrated schnapps,
called Slimbowitz, also from his native land, and con
tributing to cordial relations.
After lunch we walked about the old ruined monas
tery, inexpressibly lovely in that sofitary spot. Trees
grow from what once were cloisters and ceUs; the
mother-church in its midst is crumbfing, pink, vine-
grown, delicious. Thomas Gage, an English monk who
visited Mexico in 1625, found it then in fuU blast. The
old retreat is a mass of lovely, unexpected detaUs, long
gaUeries, carved lintels, bits of sculptured vaulting,
romantic inclosures, and everywhere some natural
growth to fling a living charm about it all.
236

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The pink belfry stiU has its old bell, but now when it
rings it warns Zapatistas of the approach of gendarmes
instead of calling monks to prayer. Supporting it and
the church behind, roofless and overgrown, are low, very
broad flying buttresses, and several smaU chapels are
still domed and cupolaed. Fine trees grow everywhere,
and the whole is inclosed by pink, flower-grown, old
walls. The large patio, filled with bits of columns, stone
beams, and crumbled mortar, was made lovelier still by
some young and beautiful cherry-trees in full blossom,
that rose gently but persistently against the back
ground of decay.
About five o'clock the sun began to come slanting
through the trees, bringing a warning of night with
it, so we regretfully had the things packed to leave
the snakeless paradise, the day done instead of be
fore us — and there is always a difference. We found
ourselves going rather quietly through a blackly
purple forest, though overhead the sky was stiU pale
blue. When we got out into the Toluca highway we saw
that a great dust-storm was blowing over the vaUey.
There was no sight of the city; Lake Texcoco and the
hUls were veiled. We and the motors were shortly aU
of a Hght, yeUowish-gray tinge. The fine earth of the
road has not had a drop of moisture since last Sep
tember, so you can imagine. We didn't even try to wave
farewells when we got into town, but each rolled off in
the direction of his own roof, to remove the marks of
pleasure. Certainly the six or eight motors must have
been a scourge to the dusty villages through which we
passed. I do enjoy the evenings so, after these long outings,
in a tea-gown, with writing-pad or book on my com-
237

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
fortable sofa, knitting the little thread to cast across
the waters. . . . March i8lh.
De la Barra is now in Paris and preparing to return.
I notice a further darkening of faces at the imminent
prospect. A Latin- American said to me, d propos of this, "It is
a sign of degeneracy when nations arrive at a point
where they are willing to rend their country into a
thousand bits rather than tolerate the personal success
of another. ' ' Our beloved maxim, ' ' There's always room
at the top," could be changed here into "there's never
room at the top."
However, everything is interesting, and even the pam
phlet I have just looked over concerning the celebrated
Tlahuafilo case has the usual color to it. The river
Nazas flows down through the lands of the Tlahuafilo
claim, the aguas baldias overflow the banks at certain
seasons and are used for the irrigation of the Laguna
district. The T. Co. had contracted with the Mexican
government regarding its development, including irri
gation-works, placing of colonists, buildings, etc. The
Mexican proprietors round about wanted the water,
too, and the T. Co. found itself in the impossibifity of
fulfiUing its contracts, because it could not get the
water necessary to the cotton crops.
Lack of water is a terrible question in Mexico, cursed
with irregular rainfalls, and rivers few and far be
tween. The Madero family own much territory in this
part of Mexico, and wanted water for themselves. This
is an example of the complications arising when the
interests of a family are the same as the interests of the
government over against foreign capital, without which,
however, Mexico cannot exist. The case was pending
during the Diaz regime, and now apparently it is frito
238

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
since the Madero incumbency, with the inevitable judg
ment that they had had sufficient water to fulfil their
contract, but had faUed to do so.
Humboldt, with his usual up-to-dateness, said, "Tout
devient process dans les colonies espagnoles." There is
certainly no change between his time and mine. . . .
One has an impression that Cortes knew what he was
about when he asked the king not to send him lawyers,
but monks and priests, and of these latter he did not
want les chanoines. The separation of Church and
State is certainly a blessing to the Church.
So few have loved Mexico for her beauty; they mostly
only want her for what they can get out of her. I won
der even her geographical position is left.
The last two nights, for a change of air and scene.
I have been reading Vanity Fair, and it has changed
things. I found it with all the "bead" on it, as if it
had just been poured from the master's brain. I re
member when I read it first, in my early teens, asking
you why Rawdon Crawley threw the jewel at Lord
Steyne. Looking back on things, I am still of the
opinion that one should do one's classics very young;
the flavor never leaves one and no harm is done. March 24th.
This afternoon I went to call on Madame Madero.
She has been ill, and, of course, very anxious. I went
out of the glare of the hot terrace into the comparative
dimness of the room, where she was lying with a hand
some satin spread covering her, a rosary in her hands,
and some newspapers on the bed. Her eyes were bright
with fever, and a pink spot was on each cheek, but it
seemed something besides fever was burning there. She
is clever enough to know when to worry, and my heart
went out to her; the political mills are waiting to grind
239

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
her and the man whose destiny she shares and whom
she loves.
The newspapers were announcing in large head-lines
the operation of the Federal commanders around Rel-
lano — Trucy Aubert, Blanquet, and Gonzalez Salas, who
was once Minister of War and among the "232,"
being Madero's cousin. Orozco is headed apparently
fuU to the south toward Torreon, and, say the timid and
doubtful, to Mexico City. From where I sat I could
see through the slit in the half-drawn curtains the gfit-
tering volcanoes and the blue, translucent hiUs; the
deathless beauty of it all gave me a pang. Any human
destiny, even clothed in the supreme office, seemed in
significant, and only the "last four things " of account. . . .
March 25th.
Last night Gonzalez Salas, in a fit of despair, finding
himself cut off from his army, which had been scattered
and demoralized by the main army of Orozco, committed
suicide in the train that was carrying him from defeat.
All day long the city has been flooded with rumors,
and a not infrequent "Viva Orozco!" has been heard.
Squads of rurales had been patrolling the streets, pict
uresque, but giving an additional note of unrest.
A Cabinet meeting was hurriedly held in the Palace.
Can the disaster be retrieved? is what foreigner and
native alike have been asking themselves aU day. I
dare say a large proportion of the population are ready
to turn "Orozquista" at the slightest further indication
of fate. There's always a "mUitary genius" here ready
and generally able to upset whatever existing apple
cart there be.
Zapata looms large on the horizon, as he has chosen
this auspicious moment to declare that he would descend
upon the fold with his cohorts, not, however, gleaming
240

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
in purple and gold. The beauteous morning sun re
vealed various notices to this effect pasted up during
the night in the heart of the city by daring Zapatistas.
I haven't seen them, but a rumor is as good as a fact
for unsettfing the public. However, I did see that
LaPerla and La Esmeralda had their iron windows
drawn down upon their glittering treasures, when I
took a turn down the Avenida San Francisco a little
whUe ago — and many other shops had done the same.
I have no doubt the population of the submerged-
tenth quarter, through which Zapata would have to
pass, coming in via the Tlalpan and Country Club road,
would enjoy raUying to his call. Our street seemed at
one time already in the hands of revolucionarios in the
shape of hundreds of newspaper boys — babes who
could scarcely hold their papers, but whose bright little
eyes can distinguish the national currency at any dis
tance, and big boys and old women.
They scented large editions from the offices of La
Prensa, and there was much begging for centavitos right
under my windows to buy copies with. Shrieks and
howls mingled with cries of "La Prensa!" and "Viva
Orozco!" The troUey-cars were blocked, and we seemed
the focus of the Orozco victory as far as the capital
was concerned. It was late when an adequate police
force appeared on the scene and formed a cordon about
the lower part of the street. Even as I write they are
caUing an extra, which I am sending down for. It has
been an exciting day, and aU exciting days in Mexico
are blood-colored. March 31st.
Palm Sunday evening.
This morning I went to the Church of San Fernando.
The sun was shining softly as I passed down the street
of the Hombres Ilustres in through the Httle palm-
241

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and eucalyptus-planted plaza, in the middle of which,
surrounded by the most peaceful of flower-beds, is the
statue of Guerrero (shot in Oaxaca in 183 1). His body
Hes in the old cemetery near by.
A soft, shining peace was over everything, and I felt
inexpressibly happy and in accord with it. No hint
came to me, as I walked along, of any bloody sacrifice of
God or man. Little groups of Indians were waving
their palms, kneeHng at the door of the church, or walk
ing about, and a few were selfing elaborately plaited
branches. Though San Fernando is in a populous quarter, the
tide has set to other shrines. Once it was the center of
great activities, for from this church and the monastery
and seminary adjoining were fitted out all the missions to
the Californias. Padre Junipero Sierra and Padre Magin
Catala, and many other holy youths, burning with a
zeal we don't even dimly comprehend, came from Spain
to be trained here before starting out into unknown
wildernesses, "for souls and for Spain." It's aU so
mysteriously suggestive.
The church has a pinkish-brown baroque facade,
beautifully patint,e, and the old doors are carved in a
noble, conventional design. As I went in it seemed
rather empty, a few Indians and a few gente decente only,
praying before the purple-draped altars. Dreary, im
mense, uninteresting paintings decorate the walls now;
but its interior was once haUowed, dim, gleaming with
the gold of Churrigueresque altars and retablos, carv
ings, embroideries, and beautiful sUver and gUt candela
bra and vases.
Afterward I went to the cemetery adjoining the
church, known as that of the Hombres Ilustres, where
a somnolent custodian let me in. The most prominent
tomb is that of Juarez, dating from somewhere in the
242

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
eighties. He is represented with his head lying in the
lap of a weeping woman, symboHc of the sorrows of
the nation (and tears enough to make a river have
been shed by women here, since then). I asked myself,
by his tomb, what has it availed to scatter the treasures
of the church? AU are poorer and none, alas, the wiser.
Guerrero, of the little flower-planted plaza, Comon
fort, Zaragoza, lie near, all executed by the hand of
some one momentarily stronger. Generals Mejia and
Miramon, the companions in death of Maximilian 1 on
the fatal morning of June 19, 1867, repose here too.
In Mexico it is difficult to live for your country with
out the certain prospect of dying for it, but I must con
fess that to me the readiness with which the men of
Mexico give up their fives is impressive and affecting.
It is at least removed from the conventionalities of other
types of political men, where mostly each one intends
to live comfortably by as well as for his country, until
he dies of disease, or Anno Domini.
Inspired by the wonted passion for moving things,
a huge new pantheon is being constructed near by,
and some day aU these tired bones must make another
journey. I think the cemetery as it is would make a
good school-room for the study of the history of Mexico
since she began her struggle for "independence."
Later we went out to the Country Club, where there
was a luncheon of the usual contingent, and spent the
afternoon foUowing various friendly golfing squads over
the beauteous links, beginning with the ambassador,
Mr. Parry, Mr. McCarthy, and N. The volcanoes, now
in one aspect, now in another of their beauty, were
as gracious to the foreigner as to the indigene. The
short, wiry grass, something Hke the tough grass of
1 The body of Maximilian hes with his kin in the imperial vault of the
Capuchin church in Vienna.
17 243

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Scotland, made the most luxurious of carpets as we
strolled along, though now it is dried to the palest
yellow — the greens kept green only by exhaustive
efforts — a lot of Yankee push behind the hand that
wields the hose. At sunset we drove home through a
world of sifted gold. Such are the days of Mexico.

XXI
Mexico's three civilizing, constructive processes — A typical Mexican
family group — Holy Week — "La Catedral" on a "canvas" of white
flowers — Reply of the Mexican government April 3d.
YESTERDAY Aunt L. received a telegram neces
sitating her immediate presence in San G. Things
are getting lively there again. I saw her off in the
hurrying, crowded station with a pang, and the house
seemed quite empty when I got back. . . .
I have begun a very interesting edition of the letters
of Cort6s by Archbishop Lorenzano, from the latter part
of the eighteenth century. When all is said and done
there have been three civifizing, constructive processes
in Mexico. The Spanish conquerors, the Church,
through the marvelous energies of friars and priests,
and invested foreign capital.
Every visible sign of civilization comes under one of
those three heads, and is not to be blinked. Each has
evolved inevitably out of the elements of the previous
condition. Diaz, when he formaUy invited foreign
capital and gave guarantees, was the expression of this
last very concretely. He kept pace with events, or else
ran ahead. I have discovered, however, that it is per
mitted to be maficious, stupid, selfish, a bore, vain,
vicious, dull, hard-hearted, the oppressor of the poor;
but it is an unpardonable sin to be ahead of one's time.
To be behind it is an unassaUable patent of respecta
bility. 245

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
It seems to me, however, that he who looks forward
to a change in the affairs of the world, rather than he
who looks on them as changeless, is less likely to be
mistaken; and great rulers have always sensed evolu
tions.
April 4th,
Holy Thursday, evening.
The whole of Mexico seemed afield to-day, with a
hint of Sunday best as they made the rounds of various
churches for the visits to the Repository — the gente
decente, as weU as those sin hechos y derechos.1
I went through the shining Alameda, where again
Indian life was beating its full around the Httle booths
— preparing for the Resurrection morn. There is some
thing simple and affecting about the way they regulate
their commerce by these festivals of the year, this peace
ful, almost rhythmic flooding in and out of the city.
Now the booths are full of toy wagons, with screaming,
harsh-sounding wheels, rattles of every description — in
fact, any harsh combination of sounds which represents
the breaking of the bones of Judas.
The Indian must have gods — and it is better to
have him worshiping the image of one God, the God of
gods, and His attributes, than sacrificing to HuitzU-
opochtfi, Quetzalcoatl, and their Hke, in blood and terror,
or wandering in the colorless and empty places of un
belief. At San Juan de Dios I came upon a famUy group
so charming and so artless that I could scarcely take
my eyes from them. The mother, a straight-haired
Indian woman, with the usual smaU, loose upper gar
ment and the straight piece of cloth wrapped about her
hips, had the sweetest little baby peeping out from the
rebozo which bound it across her back. An old oU-can,
1 Without civil rights.
246

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
filled with what I know not what, was by her side. The
father carried a platter of dusty pink sweets, and a tribe
of soft, bright-eyed, smiling chUdren accompanied them.
The next youngest to the baby was on the father's
shoulder, who laid his hat before him with his platter,
on the altar steps. His eyes were upfifted. AU were
sUent and immobile, even the baby looking intently at
the altar of the Repository, banked with flowers,
ablaze with candle-light, and decorated with a few cages
wherein were some smaU, bright-plumaged birds.
The church is part of an old chapel erected in the
sixteenth century to Nuestra Senora de los Desam-
parados (Our Lady of the Forsaken Ones) ; but some
how that group fulfiUing its destiny did not seem for
saken, but a part of the mysterious human fabric of
which I myself was just as mysterious a bit. Before the
beautiful recessed portal in the rich baroque facade,
whose adjacent waU is ornamented in a Mauresque de
sign, a remnant of the earfiest colonial period, was a varied
assortment of beggars — also not disinherited, it seemed
to me — but called to partake of the sorrows of the Madre
de Dios whom they so loudly invoked as I passed in.
The feature of the church is the statue of St. Anthony
of Padua, which once was among the group of santos in
the fagade, but had been cast down during the anti-
church riots of 1857. For many years it lay covered
with mud and dust in a ditch by the Alameda. Now it
is a mass of votive offerings — milagros they are called —
in the shape of hearts, limbs, etc., whatever organ had
been damaged by the casualties of earthly existence. I
espied an ingenious presentment of a fiver in copper
hanging in its proper anatomical place on the person
of the santo. The Indians have the strange habit of
making their offerings to this shrine in groupings of
thirteen — thirteen candles, bouquets containing thirteen
247

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
flowers etc. — commemorative of the death of San
Antonio on the 13th of June (1531).
I can't see how the Indian is benefited by the sup
pression of rehgious ceremonies. Gods he must have.
And when one comes out into the Alameda, the sun
shining on the belfries and domes of the many churches
surrounding it, filtering through the lovely foliage of the
park about which the Indian tides sweep, fixed as the
laws that govern other tides, one feels the bounteousness
of the natural world, and a desire to render thanks to
something. The long, narrow, flower-planted atrium of San
Diego, from the early part of the sixteenth century,
flanks the charming old house where the presses of the
Mexican Herald turn out world news on the site of the
Aztec market-place, or tinquiz. But though the outer
seeming of Hfe is changed, I could but think me of the
changelessness of the human heart. Good Friday Evening.
A sickening heat was in the air aU day, with a some
thing withering and nerve-disturbing about it, though,
as the thermometer goes, the temperature was not high.
I went early to the Httle near-by church of Corpus
Christi. The singing of "Dulce Hgnum" made me think
of the great ceremonies at St. John Lateran, and much
that is no more. I returned at 2.30, when a strange-
faced priest with an "inner" look and a something burn
ing in his voice, a Spaniard by his accent, was finishing
the "Three Hours." Afterward, - in company with In
dians and black-rebozoed women, I followed the Stations
of the Cross. . . . Holy Saturday.
Mexico City is one vast "rattle," the most dreadful
sounds everywhere to commemorate the holy, stiU day,
and as for Judas, he is a legion in himself.
248

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The Calle de Tacuba presented a strange sight.
Stretched on wires or strings from one house to the
other were bright-colored, hideous figures, representing
the maldito 1 dangling in grotesque attitudes against the
blue sky. On various street corners he is being burned
in effigy. Firecrackers are exploding as I write, beUs
are ringing from every belfry. Grief is noisy in the
tropics, even for the laying in the tomb of the Son of
Man. When I came out of the cathedral I stopped at the
flower-market near by. It is a modern, ugly, round, iron-
roofed affair, but the flowers, the bright birds in their
bamboo cages, and, above aU, the dazzling air, fling a
charm about it. Every modern, ugly thing in Mexico
seems easily transmuted. In the old days the Indians
brought their flowers straight to the Plaza in canoes by
the Viga Canal.
An Indian, with what I can only call a "canvas" of
white flowers, on moss and wire, about two feet square,
was putting in an outHne of red and purple stocks.
When I asked him what he was going to represent he
answered, quite simply, with a look at the church, "La
catedral." A very young Indian carrying a tiny white
coffin on his head passed us, as I spoke to him, and he
stopped his work and made the sign of the cross.
In the arcades several "Evangelistas," scribes, were
surrounded by the unlettered and unwashed — and I
found some tattered children, so easily made happy,
looking at stands stocked with pink, syrupy drinks and
cornucopias filled with ices. But mostly the attention
of the crowd was concentrated on a huge magenta and
blue Judas who was going up in a blaze of infamy on the
corner. A domestic tragedy awaited me when I returned home.
1 Accursed one.
249

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
One of the servants, whUe praying before the image of
Nuestra Senora del Sagrario in the Church of Corpus
Christi, had her pocket-book removed. In it were some
coral ear-rings, a lottery ticket, and the remains of her
month's wages, just received.
She seemed more disturbed by the loss of the lottery
ticket than the other articles, and kept saying, "Qui4n
sabe, Senora?" and that she had chosen the number 313,
after a very precise dream of three white rabbits, one
black cat (this latter the same, I fancy, that disturbs the
slumbers of CaUe Humboldt), foUowed up by the three
children of her aunt, dressed in unaccustomed white. It
was almost convincing. As the door of the pantry opened
when supper was being served the words "Tres conejos"
(three rabbits) floated into the dining-room, with an
accompanying "Quien sabe?" Dia de Pascua, April 7th.
Happy Easter to my precious mother on this lovefiest
of Resurrection morns ! San Fefipe was crowded to suffo
cation — quite beautiful music in the rolling, gorgeous
style, and everybody, even the beggars at the doors,
with what they call here a car a de Pascua (Easter face) .
This is only a word while waiting to motor out to Tlalpan
to the Del Rios' for a dia de campo. April 10th.
To-day, luncheon here for MUe. de TreviUe, the singer,
and her mother, who are the guests of the ambassador.
We all miss dear Mrs. WUson, who has returned suddenly
to the States on account of the Ulness of her son, Warden,
at Cornell. Rieioff was among the guests and we are to
dine there on Saturday and have a musical evening after
ward. He was consul-general in Hong-Kong when Von
Hintze was out there as lieutenant on Prince Henry's
staff. Now, what the Mexicans would caU their cate
goria is reversed. 250

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
April nth.
I do hope, though probably vainly, that Madame
Madero doesn't see all the dreadful caricatures appear
ing about her husband. El Manana, edited by an
extremely clever Porfirista, has apparently set out to
grind him to powder, and there is one, El Multicolor,
edited by a Spaniard, sometimes quite ribald, which I
should say is preparing to bury the remains with scant
ceremony. There was a cartoon the other day, which I am send
ing, representing Madero being kicked down a long,
broad flight of stairs in the palace on to a transatlantic
liner bearing the fateful name Ypiranga,1 the historic
ship that bore Diaz across the bitter waters. The
Latin-American mind is at its best in satire, and with
the dart well poisoned they kiU off their public men by
the dozens. April 14th.
The Mexican government is decidedly upset to-day
at the receipt of a notification from Washington to the
effect that the United States wiU hold Mexico and the
Mexican people responsible for Ulegal acts sacrificing
or endangering American life or property. It is a simul
taneous warning to both Madero and Orozco, and the
bon mot of the situation here is, ' ' Is necessity the mother
of intervention?" April 16th.
I am stiU numbed and dazed by the reading of the
Titanic catastrophe. April 17th.
The Mexican government replies to our notification
of the 14th, first cousin to an ultimatum, in which
1 This ship has played a r61e in the destinies of two of Mexico's rulers,
for it not only bore Diaz into exile, but it was the ship containing the
ammunition for Huerta, to prevent the delivery of which we thought
we were obliged to seize Vera Cruz, April 21, 1914.
251

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
we caU categoric attention to the enormous destruction
of American property, ever on the increase in Mexico,
and the taking of American life, contrary to the usages
of civilized nations.
The United States expects and demands that American
life and property within the Republic of Mexico be justly
and adequately protected, and will hold Mexico and the
Mexicans responsible for all wanton and illegal acts sacri
ficing or endangering them.
We further insist that the rules and principles accepted
by civiHzed nations as controlling their actions in time
of war shall be observed. Any deviation from such a
course, any maltreatment of any American citizen, wiU
be deeply resented by the American government and
people, and must be fully answered for by the Mexican
people. The shooting of the unfortunate, misguided
Thomas Fountain by Orozco (said T. F. was having a
Httle fling seeing life, and death, too, with the Federal
forces) is deplored. Orozco "answers back" that natu
raUy he executed Fountain, who was "fighting in the
enemy's army." Several Americans, employed on the
Mexican railways, have also been murdered by the
revolutionists. The Mexican reply, drawn up by the long-headed,
very prudent Don Pedro Lascurain, the new Minister for
Foreign Affairs, says Mexico finds itself in the painful
position of not recognizing the right of our government
to make the various admonitions which are contained
in the note, since these are not based on any incident
chargeable to the Mexican government, or which could
signify that it had departed from an observance of the
principles and practices of international law.
The Imparcial was very fierce this morning, consider
ing us both rough and inconsiderate, and saying that
Mexico has merited better treatment at our hands.
252

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mostly they seem to think that we ought to take
things as we find them or depart. I don't think much
can be done in Latin America by threats or menaces. It
is either definite force or tactful coaxing; and, anyway,
the Monroe Doctrine can never be anything but a sort
of wolf in sheep's clothing to the Latin-American peoples.
El Pais, which is the official Catholic organ, says the
note is "the first flash of lightning," and, without doubt,
some gorgeous storm-clouds are rolling up.
Don Porfirio is more completely vindicated than he
could ever have hoped, or even wished.

XXII
The home of President Madero's parents — Sefior de la Barra returns
from Europe — "Zapatistas move on Cuemavaca — Strange disappear
ances in Mexico—Oil — The President and the railways April 23d.
HAVE been busy to-day looking over things and
getting boxes and trunks off to be repaired. A
feeling of migration is in the air. A lot of damage
was done getting to Mexico. A locksmith asked fifteen
francs to open that small trunk where I keep my papers
and give me a new key. He took the fifteen francs, but
brought no key until pressure was put on him, when he
sent back a key that fitted, having, however, a large,
ornamental wrought-iron handle from the viceregal
period. I should say that takes up more room than all
our other keys together. It would look better in a
vitrine. If the end comes suddenly, which I don't befieve, we
can get out comfortably and with the philosophy engen
dered by the fact that, after aU, these are not our Lares
and Penates.
We dine at the British Legation to-night. The Stronges
are very comfortably and handsomely installed, though
the drawing-room, with its pale-blue hangings, endless
modern chairs and cabinets and small tables, sent out
from England, make it less artistic, to my mind, than in
its former spare furnishing with Hohler' s lovely old
things. 2 54

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Just home from the Country Club, where I left N.
starting out on a "foursome" with Susana Garcia
Pimentel,1 Sefior Bernal, her brother-in-law, and an
unknown fourth. On those beautiful Hnks she seemed
more beautiful than ever, with a taU slenderness, an
exceeding and arresting straightness of feature, long,
ideafized "Hapsburg chin," and what we caU a "com
plexion" not often seen here. She was Diana-fike as
she started off in a thin, extremely expensive, white,
unmistakably French dress and an equally French
flopping Leghorn hat, the Httle Indian caddy following
with the arrow-case.
I caUed on Madame Madero, senior, yesterday, and
found more than a hint of the patriarchal — sons and
daughters and grandchUdren coming and going. They
seem quiet, dignified people. The father came in as I
was sitting there with various other visitors, and the
two daughters rose and kissed his hand and caUed
him papacito. The devotion of famifies and the per
manence of ties here is quite remarkable, a decided con
trast to the more airy conjugal relations in the United
States. After tea had been served we went into the big
drawing-room, where I sat with some anonymous, silent,
big-hatted, smaU-footed Mexican women, while Angela
Madero sang charmingly and easUy, without the tiresome
urging so often necessary. She speaks of going abroad
or to New York to study, when political affairs are quite
settled. The house,2 recently built in the handsome
1 Died in New York, August 23, 1916, of a maladie de langueur.
How could she resist a winter exiled in Harlem, after the flight from
Mexico in 1915 — the world, her world, in ruins? As well put an orchid
in a cellar in the autumn and expect to find it blooming in the spring.
2 This house was burned and sacked during the Decena Trdgica,
February, 1913, by what the newspapers called la furia popular, and
remains to this day a mass of crumbling and charred walls, roofless and
windowless, sic transit. 255

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Colonia Juarez, Calle Berhn, is comfortable but banal,
without the good things of the "old" families. Few
books — in fact, like most of the modern Mexican houses.
As I came out the air was darkened by one of the
great dust-storms that sometimes come up toward
twifight at this time of the year. The strains of "The
Rosary," which Angela twice sang with real feefing,
followed me, together with thoughts of a family who,
once rich, obscure, and happy, now find themselves
perched on the dizzy, uncertain peak of Mexican politics.
I wonder if the elder members don't sometimes sigh for
the good old days. April 24th.
Yesterday the ambassador gave a large musical in
honor of MUe. Treville, who is leaving soon, at which
Mrs. Schuyler and I presided. The rooms were fiUed
with Easter lUies. Miss de T. sang reaUy beautifully
the aria of "La Folie," from "Ophelie," "Super vor-
reste," some songs of Mr. McDoweU's, and, as her last
encore, gave the ever-popular Mexican song of home
and homesickness, "La Golondrina." Her voice has a
beautiful, bird-like quality and her (.cole of the best ; she
studied in Paris and Brussels.
Madame Madero came, looking a Httle thin, in a nice,
black lace dress, over some shining white, with a sister
resembling her, though without any suggestion of
Madame Madero's banked fires; her two sisters-in-law,
Angela and Mercedes, also accompanied her. Madame
Ernesto Madero, always very pretty, with a bright,
fresh look, in spite of her many chUdren, was in black
lace, with a large picture-hat. Indeed, I was fearful at
one time that the unusually large assortment of black
picture-hats, in conjunction with the Easter lilies, would
make the room somewhat funereal in spots.
256

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The whole Corps Diplomatique, which had not been out
in force for some time, was there. The governor of the
Federal District, Don Ignacio Rivero, now a great friend
of N.'s and most useful in many ways, came with his
wife, whom I hadn't met. The Guatemalan minister
presented his handsome bride, the Cuban minister, Gen
eral de Riba, who, it appears, is breaking hearts galore
with his tenor voice and handsome face, was there; and
Madame Simon, as always, sparkfing and interested,
surveyed the scene with her long lorgnette.
The clou of the occasion was the appearance of Mr.
de la Barra, just back from Europe. He was amiable,
tactful, and inscrutable, but I wonder what he really
thinks of the slopes of Avernus, down which the gov
ernment seems to be sliding, and not gently, either. He
has taken a big house, quite ex-presidential-looking, in
the Calle Hamburgo, and the largest of packing-boxes
are being emptied in front of it. The Embassy staff
were out in full force, of course — D'Antin, interpreter
and legal adviser since many years; Palmer, now diplo
matic secretary to the ambassador and very capable;
Parker, first clerk; and others.
Mr. Potter and Mr. Butler came in late and stayed
late, and we spoiled our dinners sitting around the
dining-table, eating sandwiches and sweets and talking
about the party. We screamed with laughter at Mr.
Potter's cutting from one of the big New York daifies,
which quite solemnly states that Zapata is a natural
product of the Diaz rule, and is merely avenging the
innocent and oppressed ones. We all had a conviction
that they had rather be unavenged. What twaddle the
people have to read, anyway. As for me, school begins
with my first waking moment and continues without a
recess till I pass from this land of the unexpected and
unsuspected to that of dreams. 257

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
April 25th.
The newspapers have been having large head-lines the
past two days regarding the Zapatistas, for "the AttUa
of the South" is moving on Cuemavaca from the north,
and it seems but a question of time before the lovely
town falls into his hands. The Federal garrison is esti
mated at only a few hundreds, whUe the Zapatistas have
between four and five thousand men.
The inhabitants are anxious to be allowed to sur
render, as Zapata has declared that if there is resistance
he will sack and burn the town, "piously" leaving noth
ing standing but the cathedral, according to his solemn
promise to the bishop. There was quite a tidy bit of
warning at HuitzUac, when that town was stormed, as
to what might happen to Cuemavaca, which is full of
refugees from Guerrero and the southern part of Morelos.
This most fertile and lovely state, wherein may be seen
"all the vegetable kingdoms of the world in a moment of
time," is practically ih the hands of the Zapatistas, shad
ing off into "Salgadistas" and endless other "istas,"
coloring the country-side independently. In aU this the
women and children seem the pity of it. At home or
afield, they are continuaUy being caught up into mys
terious traps of destiny. Even here in my house there
are, from time to time, curious disappearances.
Josefina, the silent, consumptive seamstress who comes
to sew and mend, has one of those vanishing sorts of
lives. She has wonderful hands, and can copy with her
slender, tapering fingers the most complicated French
clothes. In fact, if one were able to get the stuffs
here, one couldn't tell the copy from the original,
cut and aU. She has just been copying that rather
intricate Jeanne Halle purple-and-black blouse. Ex
cept for the inside waistband, whose origin is name
less, like Josefina, you can scarcely teU them apart,
258

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
not a sixteenth of a centimeter's difference in length,
breadth, or width.
She sits in the sun by an open window, and has egg
and sherry at eleven and before she goes home, but the
sands of her life are slipping fast. She fives in a room
with three other consumptive sisters. The eldest went
out one night to get some oil for their lamp. It is now
ten days, and she has not returned. Is she working in
the powder-mUls, or what? Who wiU care, and who
could if he would inform himself of her fate — just gone
out into the night.
Madame Bonilla, from whom I got Josefina, has
been an angel of mercy to her and her sisters, and
tried unsuccessfully to rearrange their housing, in
viting Josefina to Hve at her country place and
supply her with work. But one can only battle so
far with Indian situations. After a certain point
everything seems to slip away into mystery, racial
and individual.
Does not constitutional democracy seem a snare and
a delusion if two-thirds of the population are composed
of such? It brings a smile, but of despair, to the face.
My very good Indian washer-woman, not long ago, left
me. The usual excuse of an aunt or a grandmother, or
some one being ill or dead, was not used. She just
stood there with her three children, clutching the ends
of her rebozo, that the last, fat little baby was rolled up
in, and repeated that she must return at once to her
pueblo whose Indian name I didn't catch. She had a
sort of an antique, troubled look. I asked Cecilia if she
knew what the matter was. She answered the usual
"Puts qui6n sabe, Senora?"
We got some things together for the chUdren, and I
gave her a few pesos, and she went off, out of my life,
out of the security of food and lodging that was hers, to
18 259

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
melt into the endless generations of Indians; I felt
uncomfortable for long after.
Talking about housework, I wish some of the airy
stipendiaries of other climes, or even the women of
those sections of my native land where they don't have
"help," could reaUy know what it is here, where half
the female energies of the nation are engaged in the
grinding of corn. They don't do it occasionaUy, but
every day, and hour after hour, or the nation would
starve. It's one of the most appaUing things in Mexico, this
grinding of the mother fiteraUy between the upper and
nether stones. How can a nation advance when the
greater part of the women pass their fives grinding
corn, making tortillas, and bearing chUdren? There is
no time or strength left to sketch in the merest outfine
of home-making, let alone a personal Hfe, or any of the
rudiments of citizenship. April 26th.
Yours about the catastrophe in the Bay of Tangier is
received. My heart aches. To think of parents being
brought back out of the darkness of death by drowning,
to call for three children and find nothing! It is Greek,
terrible. You remember them from Berlin days and
those lovely Httle ones.
Last night we dined at Mr. Walker's with our mUitary
attache and Mr. Knoblauch; they are all keeping bach
elor quarters in Mr. W.'s handsome house next door to
the British Legation, in his wife's absence. The talk
turned on oU. Though the Aztecs used it for their
temple floors, the Spaniards left it in the rich breast of
Mother Earth. Now it looks as if it were going to be
the center of foreign interests in Mexico, replacing in the
inevitable evolution of things its romantic mining
history. 260

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mr. Doheny, the pioneer of the industry, has had one
of those careers only possible to the man of genius. He
appeared on the scene of the future oil-drama (the state
of Vera Cruz),1 looked about him, installed a plant of
many miUions, and when he was ready, the oil gushed
up — a sort of twentieth century striking of the rock —
to say nothing of Moses.
Lord Cowdray's enterprise was not less spectacular
nor less profitable. Nature did not, however, wait on
his preparedness, for suddenly from his lands the great
est oil-weU in the world, Las Dos Bocas, gushed out, and
for months burned upward in a great column of smoke
and fire, and flowed out to the sea, a burning waste of
light and heat, before it could be capped.
Now that modern-sounding thing, an oleoduct, carries
a vast stream from one of the other great wells (Potrero
del Llano) to Tampico, to the sea, where navies and
merchant-ships await it, and we have begun a new era
in the mechanical activity of the world.
Mr. Walker enlivened it all with amusing tales of
Indian laborers and their ways when driven by Anglo-
Saxons who suffer not the word manana. Underneath
it is the beat of world-passions and world-needs, and
Mexico, lovely and uncertain, finds herself at once the
stage of mighty interests — and their battle-ground.
After dinner we betook ourselves to the big living-
room, where the phonograph was turned on, giving forth
such national lyrics as "You Have Another Papa on the
Salt Lake Line," and "My Wife's Gone to the Country,
1 The American interests are chiefly situated in the district of El
Ebano, on the frontier of the states of Vera Cruz and San Luis Potosi.
The English are in the district of Tuxpam in the state of Vera Cruz, and
the total of the interests represented is about a hundred million dollars
for the American, seventy-five millions for the English, and between two
and three millions for the Mexican. The figures do rather sustain the
adage that "Mexico is the mother of foreigners, but the stepmother of
Mexicans." 261

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Hurray, Hurray!" The nearest we got to the classics
was the air from "Martha."
Burnside drove us home, after a turn in the dim, mys
terious park. The immense and splendid "Ship" was
stretching low across the starry heavens, and there were
great spaces of intensest black between the groupings
of the constellations. These stars, under which I was
not born, have a strange and quieting influence on me.
One cannot look other than with stiUness and awe on
their luminous rhythm, compared to the restless and
confused "who knows whence, whither, or what" of the
Indian destinies they shine on. All that "vast and won
dering dream of night " which "rolls on above our tears."
Mr. J. B. P. gives a big luncheon at the ViUa des
Roses to-day, and has sent me the fist to seat. You see
that we do move about, though somewhat warily, in
these regions of political quicksands.
The ambassador has always had the gravest doubts
as to Madero's competency. Nothing any of us have
seen, up to now, has been encouraging. It is one thing
to inflame a country by promises of everything to every
body; it's another thing to rebuild a state, as he set out
to do, from ruins, or even to sustain law and order, as he
knew it, and benefited by it, in his youth. That dreamy
face of his makes me think of the school-boy's definition
of an abstract noun, "something you can't see," and
those hands, with their soft and kindly gestures, are so
unfitted for grappling with this special Leviathan — and
consequences are pitUess. Alas for the peu de politique
et beaucoup d' administration of Diaz!
I discovered a decided hint of original sin in EHm
yesterday. When I told him to kneel in church he
said his leg hurt him; when I told him to make the
sign of the cross he said his arms hurt him, and his neck
was like a ramrod when I told him to bow his head.
262

Photograph by Ravell A BEAUTIFUL OLD MEXICAN CHURCH

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
April 27th.
A year ago to-day we set out on our tropical advent
ure, and the end is not yet. I said to the ambassador
yesterday, a propos of picnics, "What shall we do next
Sunday?" He answered: "You may be on a war-ship
next Sunday."
However, the cfimax may not come for months, and
it may not come that way when we do leave, but it
would be a fine finale! Later.
Your letter from Mentone of April 15th has just been
handed in — twelve days only; did it fly through space?
I ask myseff.
I have been reading an account of the death of the
great viceroy, Bucareli, which teUs of the famous courier
who was sent to announce the nomination to his suc
cessor, Mayorga, then in Guatemala, building a new
capitol near the old, destroyed by earthquake. He did
the distance, over pathless mountains and deep valleys,
in seven days, spurred on by the motto of "the king is
dead, long live the king" — in this case translated into an
old Mexican saying of "No es lo mismo virrey que viene
que virrey que se va" ("A viceroy that comes is not the
same as a viceroy that goes").
The Mexican post, in the old days, was auctioned off
to the highest bidder by the state, not a confidence-
inspiring way of communication, and it ended by
wealthy people having their own runners. Now, in
twelve days, a letter takes its flight from the shores of
the Mediterranean to the Mexican heights ! Autre temps,
autres mceurs.
There is from the time of the wars of independence
the picturesque tale of the "Courrier Anglais"; noth
ing English about it, except that an Indian horseman
by the name of Verazo would leave Mexico City in
263

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
time to reach Vera Cruz for the arrival of the packet
from Southampton, and in his saddle-bags would be
the whole diplomatic and mercantUe correspondence of
the capital.
He never stopped, except to jump from one horse to
the other at the relay stations, and was aUowed privi
leges of safe-conduct by aU shades of combatants, regu
lar and irregular. Once arrived at Vera Cruz, he would
eat copiously, sleep for a couple of days, and then return
with the mails to Mexico City, ready to repeat his
exploits the next month.
Do you remember that poem of Bret Harte 's, "The
Lost GaUeon"? I came across it the other day, finger
ing a volume of American poetry. It, too, evokes pict
ures of runners bringing mails and valuables from the
Orient up from Acapulco, and begins :
In sixteen hundred and forty-one
The regular yearly galleon,
Laden with odorous gums and spice,
India cotton and India rice,
And the richest silks of far Cathay,
Was due at Acapulco Bay.
The luncheon at the VUla des Roses was very pleas
ant. The place is kept by a Frenchwoman with a fine
touch and an excellent cellar. She has some wonderful
paM de foie gras in a great terrine, just out from France,
and her macs' doine de fruits was arrosGe with an ancient
and meUow maraschino. The table was spread in a long
glass veranda, with thickly blossoming rose-vines, crim
son rambler, trailing over it. The Lefaivres, the Riedls,
Von Hintze, the ambassador, Rieioff, De Vilaine, KUvert,
Seeger, the Schuylers, and ourselves made up the party.
Mr. Potter's lavishness as to menu made us feel some
what "boa-constrictory" as we rose from table, but we
264

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
were able to get into the garden and have ,our photo
graphs taken by Baroness R., which I send you.
April 2gth.
Burnside goes to the "front," which now means
Huerta's army against Orozco's; changes of front are
among the natural phenomena here. It appears General
Huerta is full of resource and has contrived to enlist
and equip a large force in this short month.
I did not tell you of the dinner at the German Lega
tion the other night for the new Minister of Foreign
Affairs, Don Pedro Lascurain. Mrs. Stronge presided,
with him on her right, and I sat on his other side.
He is a tall, spectacled, near-sighted-appearing man
with a pleasant expression, but I understand he can
see farther than most down financial and poHtical vistas.
He has a natural flair for business, having made a large
fortune by real-estate purchases in the new section of the
town, is moderate in the poHtical sense, honorable and
very pious.
He told me about the Sagrado Corazdn, the church
he is buUding almost entirely out of his own pocket for
the Jesuits in the Calle de Orizaba near his house. It
had been so badly cracked in what is now simply known
as the "Madero" earthquake (June 7, 191 1), not as a
"sign from heaven," that work had to be suspended on
it while the foundations were strengthened. N. said he
remarked quite simply to him, in the course of a con
versation, "Why do you Americans talk of intervening
in Mexico? You own it already."
He has replaced Calero, sent as ambassador to Wash
ington. I predict that Calero will know a good deal
more about us than we do about him before he is done.
After much hesitation, Aunt L. has rented the big
house near the station to General Garcia Hernandez
265

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of the "military zone." They would have taken it if
she hadn't. It's certainly ideal for strategic purposes;
it commands a view of the whole country and the raU-
way is comfortingly near at hand. The large fly in the
ointment is that quantities of dynamite have been stored
in it. She has been waiting for days to go to Juchitan,
where things are lively again. She does not dare to
drive over, and the train has not been going for some
time, a commentary on the regeneration of Mexico. If
the taxes are not paid there are fines, and they have to
get to Juchitan to pay the taxes or the usual devU gets
the hindmost. Batches of wounded from there have
been brought in to San G.
Yesterday we went a-picnicking again to El Desierto —
three motors full — Mr. Potter, Mr. Butler, MademoiseUe
de TrevUle and her mother, Burnside, Seeger, the ambas
sador, and ourselves. We all met at the Embassy, where
there was an immense amount of telephoning between
N. and the governor, Rivero, as to whether the first
detachment of soldiers, supposed to have gone early in
the morning to prepare the scene for festivities by clear
ing the brush of Zapatistas, really had departed.
After circling round and round the Embassy, the sun
so broiling we could not sit still in it, we finally started
off, the gentlemen bulging with pistols, the motors heavy
with cartridges. We were preceded by a military auto
containing two officers and eight men. They nearly
choked us with their dust, and only when we got off the
highway into the lovely forest stretch did we begin to
"take notice" again. Then the glinting of uniforms
through the great trees, Miss de Tr6ville boldly trilfing
some lovely variations on "The Star-spangled Banner,"
the general feeling of adventure, not unmixed with pride as
to our boldness, made us once more "rejoice in the green
springtime of our youth," according to Nezahualcoyotl.
266

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
By the time we reached the luncheon site we felt our
selves perfect daredevils and ready for anything. The
only risk we did mn (I hate to relate it) was when a
pair of excited mules, driven by a wUd-eyed Indian,
coming from quie'n sabe where, dashed upon us as we
were sitting innocently at lunch in the idylfic spot I
wrote you of. They were prevented by a big tree, only
some four yards off, from completely demofishing us.
The wagon was smashed, and the picnickers fled in all
directions. The first thought of each was that it was
the prelude to a Zapatista play, and we were on their
stage. However, aU's well that ends well: and here I
am on my sofa again.
The political mess thickens. So much might have
been done, if all the efforts of the government had not
been expended on keeping in office. War-ships are
announced, some of ours, and the EngHsh and French
and Germans wUl take a look, too.
A curious compfication about the railways has come
to a head, involving not alone money, but life. Shortly
after Madero came in he endeavored to get rid of the
American railroad servants, who tried to get the matter
taken up in Washington, and there was a lot of unofficial
talk besides. Madero had ordered that, after a certain
date, all orders must be written in Spanish ; the trainmen,
whUe speaking Spanish, in the majority of cases, could
not write it sufficiently well for prompt and efficient
service. Mr. W. has been so convinced from the begin
ning that Madero could not fill the position that he has
lost interest in personal communications. So he sent
N. up to Chapultepec to see Madero and explain to him
the bad effect this would have. There were even threats
of boycott on the northern frontier by union trainmen,
who considered it would be an unjust act, as many of
the men had been in Mexico since childhood, andthere
267

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
were many of them over age who couldn't get jobs in the
United States. N. told him it was very impolitic, etc.,
etc. Madero thought it over and said in French: "You
can teU the ambassador that the order very probably
will not go into force, though it is impossible for me
to revoke it." N. reported this to the ambassador.
Several days afterward, on April 17th, he met Mr.
Brown on the links. Mr. Brown said, with a smile,
"That order went into force to-day" (Mr. B. had to sign
it as president). N. hurried off to the ambassador, who
was naturaUy very annoyed, and said N. must have mis
understood Mr. Madero. N. thought his goose was
cooked; that Madero would go back on him and throw
the interview in with a lot of other Mexican apocrypha.
But Madero was most decent about it aU and said:
"Yes, I did tell Mr. 0' S. so, but I was unable to prevent
the order from going into force." The result has been
that a large body of trained men who couldn't negotiate
la lengua castellana have been obliged to leave the coun
try, to their own and Mexico's detriment.
Madero's idea was to "democratize" the national raU-
ways — i.e., to load the system with as many employees as
possible. At the end of the Diaz regime there were a few
dozen competent inspectors; under the Madero regime
they had been increased tenfold.
The green parrot I brought from San G. is chirping
in the next room — quite a member of the family, but
dreadfully backward as to languages.

XXIII
The" Apostle" begins to feel the need of armed forces— A statesman
who is always revealing something to somebody" — Nursing the
wounded at Red Cross headquarters May 4th.
AS you wUl see from the inclosed cHpping, posters
*»• all over town containing the same, Madero is in
a bad condition. Reports from Huerta's army are that
disease, typhus, and black smaUpox are rife. Bum-
side is up there now watching operations.
Huerta states that he wiU not lead his three thousand
troops to certain death against Orozco's myriads, strong
ly intrenched, until his preparations are complete. Some
kind of end is perhaps in sight. The only diplomat at
Madame Madero's reception Thursday was the Belgian
wife of the Japanese charge. I intended to go, but was
trying to mend a broken night with a siesta, and it
sfipped my mind tiU too late. Battle of Puebla, May 5th.
(A year ago to-day we landed in Vera Cruz.)
The town is flagged and there has been a big military
parade, with the beautiful Mexican brass echoing
through the streets. It is the most popular of the lay
festivals, commemorating the victory of General Diaz
and General Zaragoza over the French at Puebla (1862). 1
1 In the palace in the Salon Rojo is a large picture of the battle of
Puebla, with Diaz prominently figured. The picturesque dress of the
Puebla mountain Indians gives it a familiar note. There is nothing
wanting to show the prowess of Mexicans, and it portrays the French re
treating down-hill in terrible disorder — chasseurs d'Afrique and chasseurs
de Vincennes giving it a European touch not in keeping with the bits of
maguey in the landscape. 269

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
There is a hint of "Praetorian Guard" creeping into
the presidential surroundings, and other signs that the
"Apostle" is beginning to feel the need of armed forces
at his back. Appeals to virtue are not proving any
more sufficient for government here than they would
be elsewhere. It's the uselessness of governments try
ing to change the formulas of the human heart that
strikes me most; and the Mexican heart, undisciplined,
passionate, multiform, iUustrates it so completely. May 7th.
Your letter with the Impressions d'ltalie program
has come. I, too, long for the beautiful land. So much
reminds me of it here, and yet there is reaUy not the
remotest likeness between Mexican and Itafian atmos
phere. They are expecting a battle, a big one, within twenty-
four hours. Every one and everything is hanging on the
turn of that event.
Madero is as simple as a chUd in many ways, and as
impulsive, but simplicity isn't the first requirement for
manipulating government in the land of the cactus.
A Spanish proverb took my attention the other day
to the effect that "an official who cannot He may as
well be out of the world," and Madero is as honest as the
day. If language is given to conceal our thoughts, he
makes Httle use of the covering. It is complained of
him that he is always revealing something to somebody.
Of course all business enterprises are deadlocked, and
many dark, as well as light, complexioned ones, having
"things to put through," doubtless long for inter
vention. May ioth.
Things social have "slumped" since some weeks.
Nobody in the face of all the uncertainties feels con-
270

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
vivial or has any courage about planning for something
that may not materiafize in the very precarious future.
Our bucolic and innocent picnic at the Desierto, where
the only harm took the shape of mules, has been turned
into a sort of orgy by some of the San Antonio and El
Paso papers, in which champagne, Spanish dancers,
frisky foreign diplomats, cold-eyed and depraved Ameri
can "interests," are in the foreground, while the back
ground is occupied by a faithful but scandalized Mexican
guard. Of such is the kingdom of history.
The dinner that the governor of the Federal District
gave last night for the ambassador is the only official
thing for some time. It was the usual conventional
Mexican diner de c6r6monie with its French menu, many
courses, and appropriate wines for each. It does not
give the effect of having the least resemblance to what
they do when en familie, but presents rather a set, very
expensive, restaurant effect. I sat between the gover
nor and De la Barra, who took me out.
To his refreshment, I think, the talk revolved about
the Eternal City rather than the eternal Mexican situa
tion. As ex-President of the republic he received many
honors in Italy, decorations from the king and the Holy
Father, and is plus catholique que jamais. Any one like
De la B., who has practical experience of government,
however, knows that aU is not quiet on the plateau, let
alone the situation in the north. Madame de la B.,
looking very pretty but pale, wore a handsome blue
pailleUe dress, so good that it was doubtless got in
Paris, en route to Rome.
Ernesto Madero and his wife were also there. She
loves going out, and always has a pleased, not at all
blase' look on her handsome face, which is most attrac
tive. I imagine Don Ernesto is trks-fin with real gifts.
We always say the Madero government reminds us of
271

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the Medici, with the fine arts and the strong hand cut
out. One of them is President, one of them almost
more than President, Don Ernesto is Minister of the
Treasury, Rafael Hernandez, his cousin, Minister of
Fomento. Another brother, Emilio, is with the army,
etc., etc., etc., down through the generaUy computed two
hundred and thirty-two members. It's the most com
plete system of nepotism since the aforementioned
Florentine days.
Huerta is reported to be making good progress driv
ing Orozco back north of Bermejillo, where Captain
Burnside now is. May 14th.
To-night deep nostalgia possesses my heart; the
seasons have swung round again. At four o'clock the
first rain drenched the city.
This morning to the Red Cross, where a sofid three
hours' work awaited Madame Lefaivre and myself,
looking neither to the right nor to the left. A larger
number than usual waiting to be attended to, the
wounded coming in, not only from the real seat of battle,
but as the results of skirmishes aU round, and, of course,
the usual casualties of the city.
We will have a lot in next week from the battle of
Tuesday; it takes about six days for the wounded to
get in from the north.
The doctors are very gentle, and the patients so very
patient — scarcely a whimper or a groan. Sometimes
only a contraction of the features when suffering agony.
True Indian stoicism. The Spanish flows, and my
"medical" Spanish is now in competition with my
"kitchen" Spanish.
Madame Lefaivre and I are the only ones who keep
to our schedule days. The Mexican ladies can't ; either
the rooms are filled to overflowing with them, picture-
272

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
hats coming and going, darkening the horizon, or they
don't appear at aU.
Aliotti, the new Italian minister, has arrived, and
was among my callers this afternoon. His beautiful
wife is not with him, as she could not stand the altitude.
He is just from Rome, from the Foreign Office, and is
extremely clever. He finds Mexico somewhat far from
his special "madding crowd."
A letter from Aunt L. says a man from Istlaltepec had
come dashing in a few minutes before to tell the general
that the rebels were sacking the hacienda of Don Pan
filo Ruiz near Istlaltepec, the banker I met at Juchitan.
Various inhabitants of a town beyond had been killed,
and people were arriving at San Geronimo on foot or
on horseback, fleeing for their lives under a broiling sun.
The mounted troops and the infantry were got out
and departed for the scene of trouble, and the band
played as usual at four o'clock on Sunday, the music
tending to calm the people, though aU were wondering
what was going on on the other side of the Istlaltepec
hUl. Five mUes, it seems to me, is a little too near for
comfort. Aunt L.'s house was surrounded by soldiers
ready to surrender or attack. "Viva Mexico!"
Several days ago a pastoral letter from the Arch
bishop of Morefia was pubfished. In it he gives his
flock the salutary advice to keep out of politics alto
gether. I think every one realizes that Diaz enforced
protection for aU and everybody, and it wUl take years
for things to settle down.
There is a fair amount of politics in these letters,
but if one happens to be so inclined one finds oneself
taking politics in with the air. They are everywhere,
yet it seems to me, of the threads of destiny that are
being spun, I get only a few loose ends. Great foreign
interests, oil, ore, and transport, play themselves out
273

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
with many a shift and twist, against the Mexican politi
cal film, shaking, unstable, distorted, now too big, now
too small, out of proportion as they come down the
stage or go off. But always of breathless interest. May 20th.
The King of Denmark is caUed into another king
dom, where he is not king. How suddenly the sum
mons came, when he was strolling about Hamburg in
the evening, unattended! The end of mortality, kingly
or otherwise ; but I have lost an irreplaceable friend. . . .
Peace to his soul! I am so sorry you did not see him
on the Riviera. Do you know that  too has gone?
I remember that luncheon she gave for him in  and
didn't ask me, and how surprised and displeased he was
when he came in for a moment in the morning and said,
"I wiU see you at lunch," and I answered, "Not asked."
We had to laugh, it was so ridiculous.
How tragic, too, the death of the young Cumberland
prince with Von Grote, his aide-de-camp!1 We used
to see them both so often in Vienna.
The Mexican episode may be drawing to a close, but
quien sabe? All life down here assumes a mysterious-
ness, even in its simplest manifestation. The natural
phenomena, the things we consider quite impersonal in
New York or Paris or Berlin, seem to perform their
operations here in an astoundingly intimate way. A
sunset is a more than daily occurrence, due to the cold
fact that the earth revolves on its axis just so often;
that moonlight experience of last autumn remains in
memory, and a consciousness is always with one of an
intimacy with natural decrees.
The faultfinding Americans who come here, and reaUy
love it, though they talk loudly about the national fail-
1 The heir to the Hanoverian throne killed in a motor accident.
274

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ings and sigh for "honest Americans," are under the spell
of this intimacy with the natural world, though they
don't often analyze it; this delicious, satisfying sensation
of being included in the operations of destiny, not being
hung solitarily between birth and death.
I never look up at the Southern Cross without my
heart, too, leaping up — and thinking, with Humboldt,
of the lines he quotes from Dante, "Io mi volsi a man
destra e posi mente all' altro polo, e vidi quattro stelle."1
The rainy season is fuU upon us, for which all are
thankful. There has been a great deal of illness in the
town, the dust-storms were unusually severe, and the
collection of microbes carried hither and thither would
break a microscope. The mornings seem made in heaven,
and, after weeks of being dust-veUed, the volcanoes are
out again in all their splendor. Tuesday, 22d.
Many people calfing to-day; among others charming
Manuefito del Campo, just married to the handsome
niece of Madame Escandon, of the Puente de Alvarado'.
They are making bridal visits. She wore a regardless
beige gown, with Paris written all over it, and beauti
fully put on over a lovely, small-hipped figure. I wish
them weU.
Mr. de S. stayed after aU had gone. He is very sad
at the disintegration of government, and in fact why
should any Mexican be cheerful? The past is destroyed,
1Io mi volsi a man destra e posi mente
AW altro polo, e vidi quattro stelle,
Non viste mai fuor ch'alla prima gente. .
Goder pareva il ciel di lor fiammelle;
O settentrional vedovo sito
Poi ehe privato se' di mirar quelle!
"PURGATORIO" I
This is the passage that commentators take to mean the Southern
Cross, the knowledge of which Dante got from Marco Polo.
19 275

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the present tottering, and the future hidden. He is
always most understanding and simpdtico.
A short, terrific thunder-storm came on as we sat
talking and afterward everything was drenched and
dripping in the corridor and patio. As I stood at the
door with him we were led to talk of destinies. I said
that, for my part, I had no hunger, all glories and all
miseries were known to me, and I was learning to feed
upon myself. But he remained sUent, stroked Elim's
hair, called him buen mozo, and went out. As always,
it is each one to his own path, and one is lucky to meet,
even for a second of time, some one going the same way.
To-day I closed forever the covers of Strindborg's
hideous, haunting Froken Julie, that horrid conflict of
souls in a kitchen. But once read, can I ever wipe it
out of memory ? May 23d.
The ambassador says we will all go home on a war
ship if "the break," as the possible event is coUoquiaUy
known, does come. Can't you see us all stowed away,
according to the protocol, on one of the war-ships, and
various dissatisfactions, however carefully things are
arranged, as to rank and previous condition of servitude ?
May 2$th.
Orozco acknowledges defeat in the north, laying it at
the doors of the United States. The neutrality laws
prevented him from getting in the required arms and
munitions. The government is very cheerful, full of smUes at the
progress of the Federal troops under General Huerta,
who have wiped out, in much blood, the blot on the
Federal escutcheon; for Rellano, lost by Gonzalez Sala,
is now retaken by Huerta. Orozco, in his retreat, is
destroying railways and bridges, and there will be big
276

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
bills for some one to foot. Huerta, it appears, has
shown generalship of a high order.
¦ But I have been under gray skies, following the great
procession that carried Frederick the Seventh to his last
resting-place. The three Scandinavian kings, Gustavus
of Sweden, Haakon of Norway, and the new ruler and
son, all so taU, like vikings of old, walked side by side,
heading the procession, the first meeting of the three
since the dissolution of the union between Norway and
Sweden in 1905.
Queen Alexandra, the Dowager Empress of Russia,
and King George of Greece,1 always so agreeable, were
there to mourn their brother, and many another of the
famUiar figures on the Copenhagen screen of memory.
It was a breaking up of family ties to them — to the
world, only a new king of Denmark.
You remember that cold, bright December day, with
its sparkling snow, and frosty, glistening trees, when we
went to Roskilde to see the ancient church where the
kings of Denmark sleep their last sleep? And now, on
a May morning, to the strains of the great organ, that
captain and that king departs whose friendship I had.
Again, peace to his soul! . . .
Several days ago I discovered at an old bookshop at
the Calle del Reloj, off the Zocalo, a first edition of
Madame Calderon de la Barca's book, 1843, Boston,
decidedly worn as to its leather binding, but in exceUent
condition otherwise — unf aded print on unyellowed paper.
I wish she could cast that pleasant objective eye of hers
on my Mexico ; I believe she would recognize the political
housekeeping !
Around about the Zocalo are many second-hand shops;
also in the Volador old books are to be found. But they
are mostly yellowed manuscript-copies of the accounts
1 Assassinated at Salonica, 19 13.
277

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of the administradores on the old Spanish estates, books
on medicines and herbs, records of lawyers' fees, and the
like. Generally the title-pages are missing, and always
aU the engravings.
I have a copy of Periquillo Sarniento, the "Gil Bias"
of Mexico, but it is difficult reading for a foreigner, full
of satiric allusions to political events of the period and
to purely local conditions. It was pubfished in Havana
in 1816, when the author, De Lizardi, El Pensador Mexi
eano, was there to escape the consequences of his satiric
jibes. He wrote, curiously enough, another book (La
Quijotita) dealing with the higher education of women,
which, in Mexico, has scarcely been repeated in the
hundred years. May 28th.
I wonder, as I write, if you are walking the green fields
of RankweU ; my heart accompanies you.
Things are going on very pleasantly from day to day,
as far as we, personaUy, are concerned, but the national
machine seems clogged and creaking, in spite of the vic
tories in the north.
Oaxaca is in a state of complete revolution. Six
thousand Indians have risen, and the whole country is
seething with brigandage, flourishing greenly under the
weak central rule. It wUl take years for things to settle
down. On Sunday another picnic is being got up. The
ambassador, of course, J. B. P., Mr. Butler, the BonUlas,
Professor Baldwin, who is giving a course at the uni
versity here, Aliotti and Mr. Brown, president of the
National RaUways. I always take Elim for the dias de
campo. He is quite a feature of the gatherings and good
as gold, playing by himself.

XXIV
One Indian's view of voting — Celebrating the King's birthday at the
British Legation — A single occasion when Mexican "pillars of so
ciety" appear — Reception at Don Pedro Lascurain's
Sunday evening, June 2d.
WE had a very lively picnic to-day at the Pena Pobre,
aU gathering at Calle Humboldt, where we waited
vainly for Professor Baldwin. At last, after fruitless tele
phoning, we started through the shining city, out the
Tlalpan road, past the Country Club, where the Hnks
were black with golfers, through the trds-coquet Tlalpan,
to the Pena Pobre hacienda.
I drove out with the ambassador, the Italian minister,
Mr. Brown, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Butler. We got the
necessary permission from the obliging administrator at
the door of the hacienda, and then passed on through
the lovely rose-garden to a wilder, gorge-Hke spot, where
a long, weather-stained table was built under the shade
of some eucalyptus-trees.
The ambassadorial butler took charge of things at
this special, strategic point, and we wandered about the
lovely spot. The paper-mills are so discreetly hidden
that one wouldn't know they existed. The Pena Pobre
is near the celebrated Pedregal, or Malpais, a prehistoric
lava-stream, which the crater of Ajusco is supposed to
have contributed to the landscape, and which has been
for centuries, with its caves and retreats, the beloved of
bandits and aU shades of definquents. Montezuma is
279

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
supposed to have hidden there his gold and silver treas
ure, and Cortes is said to have fotmd it and shipped it to
Spain. As aU the picnickers were in good form, we had a par
ticularly cheerful lunch, enlivened by the usual discus
sion of the perfectly patent truth that self-government
is not native to the Mexicans. There were those who
knew what they were talking about in the assemblage.
. . . Don Benjamin Butler gave his touching story of
one of his peons coming to him with a piece of paper
and asking what it said. "It says you have a right to
vote." The peon thereupon put the artless question,
"For whom shall I vote?" Don Benjamin further
explained that Esteban Fernandez was the only candi
date in their state (Durango). "I'U vote for him if you
want me to, but I'd rather vote for you," was the
answer. It's Indian, charming, but it bears little relation to
the simon-pure Anglo-Saxon democracy that they are
trying to try down here.
The party was further enlivened by the curious
case I discovered in a home newspaper of the old
gentleman, found dead, whose body was identified
by two sons, of around about fifty years of age,
who had never met until the inauspicious occasion.
For half a century he had had families in adjoin
ing towns. I thought he must have been a bright
old gentleman. Mr. Potter thought he must have
had some money, too.
We got as far on the return trip as the Country Club,
when it began to pour, the golfers dashing in from all
points to take refuge in the celebrated "nineteenth hole,"
not dry, either. The sun showed itself for a moment
before setting, and flung a few lovely flame-covered
scarfs about the dazzling heads of the volcanoes; but
280

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the world we were in remained damp and dark, and we
turned home quite willingly.1
I found an invitation, on returning, from the chef du
Protocole, in the name of the Minister for Foreign Affairs
and Senora de Lascurain, for a reception at their house
on Friday afternoon en obsequio del Honorable Cuerpo
Diplomdtico. June 4th.
Yesterday a large reception at the British Legation in
honor of the King's birthday. The Union Jack was
flying high over the entrance as we went in, the house
was filled with beautiful flowers, and there was much
health-drinking and good wishes. The official world,
Mexican and foreign, of course out in full force, and the
colony — altogether a very pleasant occasion, with that
special English feeling of "empire" behind it all.
Mrs. Stronge has been ill, but she was seeing a few
friends up-stairs in the charming comer room, with its
view of the volcanoes. The old quotation came, as so
often, to my mind, Si d morar en Indias fueras, que sea
donde los volcanes vieres.
The pet of the Legation, a bright green parrot, or, to
be more precise, a green, bright parrot, brought from
Bogota, was helping her receive. I came home with the
ambassador, who goes to Washington for two weeks over
the northern route, and Schuyler is to "enjoy" his
absence. Now I must close; Tuesday visitors are begin
ning to arrive. June 5th, evening.
This morning at 8.30 I heard dear Aunt L.'s voice
outside my door. She had arrived from Orizaba with
1 Pena Pobre has been occupied and evacuated countless times by
Zapatistas, and is now completely laid waste — the great paper-mills, the
gardens, the hacienda buildings. Since writing these words a vast and
blood-stained scroll has been unfolded, and I think many a one ha.s
modified his political creed. — E. O'S., 1917,
281

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Laurita, who has masses of beautiful red-gold hair. She
is now sitting in a big armchair, doing nothing, I am
thankful to say, though The House of Mirth is within
reach when she feels Hke reading. So glad to have her
here.
June 7th.
The reception at the Casasuses last night was a most
gorgeous affair. He is one of the few cientificos stiU
visible in Mexico City, a man of much cultivation and
erudition. He has preserved his relations with the
Madero family, also his money, but there is that in his
eye which makes one feel that he has not preserved his
illusions. The reception was to open his splendid new house in
the Calle de los Heroes, which has been building since
some years, and also for the contrat de mariage of his
eldest daughter. A fine band was sounding as we went
in through the zagudn. The great patio was covered
with a sort of light-blue velum, and behind it were
myriads of star-like lights. The great fountain was
ablaze, too, and everything was decorated with wreaths
of marguerites, recalling the name of the fiancee, who is
to marry, a son of the famous Justo Sierra, Minister of
Public Instruction under Diaz.
Madame C, large and impressive and a blaze of
diamonds, was flanked by her two pretty, sfim daugh
ters, very jeune fille as to dress, but rather sophisticated
as to expression. The novia was in white, and the
younger girl in a simUar costume of blue.
AU strata of society were there, even the "pillars,"
holding up things for this single occasion; charming-
looking and beautifully dressed women I had not seen
before — some of that invisible chicheria I suppose;
the official set, the mUitary, etc., etc. There were some
fine jewels — great plaques of emeralds much in evj-
282

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
dence — and one lady wore a strange necklace of very
large, very lustrous, almost square pearls.
The rooms are elaborately furnished in the modern
French style. The brocade-covered waUs hung with
expensive modern French paintings. Portraits of Mon
sieur and Madame Casasus, by one of the great French
artists, I forget which, were in the large pink-and-gold
salon. The magnificent fibrary, with thousands of vol
umes, the collection of a lifetime, was furnished from
London by Waring and had long tables bearing atlases
and big in-quarto volumes, deep leather chairs, and read
ing lamps, most inviting.
The supper was lavish to a degree; it was whispered
about that the cost of the entertainment was fifty
thousand doUars. Madame C. presided over the huge
square table of the diplomats, loaded with great cande
labra, beautiful imported fruits in massive silver dishes
and rare flowers in tall silver vases. I was taken down
by a general whose name I didn't get, in the fullest of
regimentals, who had lost an arm in some one of the
interior campaigns — I think Madero's.
The champagne flowed; French pdtes, asparagus, all
sorts of things which had come from long distances, were
passed by liveried servants. Don Sebastian Camacho,
sighting his ninetieth year, was the beau of the occasion,
carrying his years lightly and gallantly, entoure' de dames.
We came away at one o'clock, leaving things in full
swing, the music and the pounding of the dancing feet
echoing through the great patio.1 Now I am off to the
Red Cross.
1 Of the Casasus house nothing but the walls remain. Everything
has been pillaged and scattered. People have happened on an occasional
old volume of the great library, and an occasional piece of the gilt-and-
brocade furniture has been seen in the second-hand shops.  told
me that a matter of importance took him to the house when used as
a barracks by Carrancistas. In the great patio were only a filthy cot
and an old brasero near which a poor soldadera was sitting. The fountain
283

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
June 8th.
Yesterday Red Cross aU the morning, and the recep
tion at the Lascurains' in the afternoon. The heavens
opened punctually at five, and an unusually bountiful
supply of water fell upon the sons and daughters of the
nations en route to the function. We descended with
the Chermonts at the door during a baby cloudburst.
The house is a big, handsome dwelling consisting of
one very high-ceilinged floor of rooms, with a charming
urned railing, lifted up against the sky, and hung with
Bougainvillea, wistaria, and honeysuckle, blooming in
their turn. Inside it reminded me of the Carlton Hotel
in London, but must be most comfortable to live in,
though the Honorable Cuerpo seemed to spread out
rather thin over its large spaces.
Its great feature is the wonderful aviary, on the side
away from the street, where dozens of the rarest and
most gorgeous birds live together in peace and apparent
happiness. Don Pedro, whose special hobby they are,
showed them to me, but I only remember the names of
a few, and a mass of flying, singing color. "Mexican
caciques," the lovely yellow-and-black oriole of the
tropics, most beautiful bluejays, much more gorgeous
than ours, for to their brilliant coat of blue-and-white
are added crests and plume-like tails — and huacamaias
and parrokeets, who made their part of the inclosure
look like carnival time.
Mr. Lefaivre took me out to the very elaborate tea,
spread in an immense dining-room. The baby cloud
burst, which in his victoria he got the fuU advantage of,
was dry and full of refuse, and some soldiers were standing about waiting
for their officer, who came in violently disputing with a woman of the
town. From under the cot, after a few moments, the woman drew out
a small, beautiful old chest clamped with silver and inset with coral,
with which she departed, "the living symbol of the aspirations of the
downtrodden masses," as one of his followers calls Don Venustiano. —
E. O'S., 1917- 284

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
and the continual destruction of French property in one
part or another of the republic made him rather pessi
mistic. He says they always give him the fullest prom
ises, when he lodges his complaints, and then nothing
further happens any more than if he had lodged them
outre tombe.
Don Pedro has a bright-eyed, agreeable, clever daugh
ter who helped her mother receive. She brought out a
fine linen square on which we wrote our names to be
embroidered by her nimble fingers later on.
I feel about Lascurain a note of sincerity and a lack
of personal aims and ambitions. Certainly nothing save
patriotism could have led him to accept a place in the
Cabinet. He has wealth and position, and only fatigues
and uncertainties, storms and dangers, await him in the
ship of state. Legation d'Autriche-Hongrie, Sunday, June gth.
Am writing this, as you see by the letter-head, at the
Reidls', waiting for the picnic party to assemble. I am,
unfortunately, always on time, a bad habit, and not
cured by over a year of manana.
The R.s have a sun-flooded house on the corner of
Havre and Marsella in the new part of town, and I
am scribbling this at the desk in the drawing-room,
done up in yellow brocade, flower-filled and comfortable,
and with its reminiscences of other posts in the way of
signed photographs and bric-a-brac.
The chiffon scarfs arrived yesterday, having survived
the temptations of the customs, the pink, blue, purple,
and petunia, just as you had done them up. This is the
land of scarfs. No lady is complete without one or
many and I wiU baptize the "pink 'un" at Mr. Potter's
to-morrow night at dinner. I never go anywhere Sun
day evening, as after the all-day bouts in the country
285

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
my sofa and my books are my best friends. We are to
go out to Xochimilco and the clans are now approaching
to the sound of motor-horns, etc. There wiU be a
repacking in of merrymakers and baskets when all
are assembled.
June 10th.
I have just come from taking Aunt L. up to Chapul
tepec. The view from the castle was entrancing, the
volcanoes touched with rose and aU the other mountains
swimming, blue and purple, in the sunset Hght. I stopped
at the British Legation on the way back to see Mrs.
Stronge, who is much better. Now I must dress to go to
Mr. Potter's for dinner. June nth.
I wore the petunia-colored scarf last night at dinner.
Mr. Potter was in great form and quite outdid the
champagne in sparkle, and we quipped and quirked tiU
a late hour. My last sight was Don Benjamin Butler
giving a few steps of the jota in the hallway. Am now
sending EHm and Laurita with GabrieUe up to Chapul
tepec Park. A beautiful, cloudless, dustless morning.
Josefina, a Httle paler, a little thinner, and, if possible,
more deft, is here concocting me a tea-gown out of a
pink satin evening dress and a white lace one. Nothing
can be cleaned here. There is a place calling itself
Teinturerie Frangaise et Beige — but I bade an imme
diate and regretless fareweU to the things that returned.
June 18th.
Am waiting for my Tuesday caUers in a reaUy lovely
tea-gown, constructed of the two evening dresses. Jose
fina may soon, however, be making robes for angels
instead of mere mortals.
There has been a little political upheaval. One of our
best friends, the governor of the Federal District — i.e.,
386

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mexico City and suburbs — had a tUt with the Minister
of Gobernacion, Flores Magon, with the result that he is
no longer governor. During all the troubles Mexico City
has been as peaceful under Rivero's regime as Zurich,
all due to his sagacity and energy, and now the usual
earthly reward of virtue, somewhat Mexicanized, is his.
He was a rich hacendddo before coming into the poHtical
arena, and his friendship for N. has been most useful to
all.
June igth.
One of the lovefiest of morns — a true "bridal of the
earth and sky," and it is the date on which, nearly fifty
years ago, MaximUian, Miramon, and Mejia were led
out to be shot.
History records that as the guard opened the heavy
door of the prison, saying, "Ya es hora" ("The hour has
come"), the three men stepped out into a world of sur
passing loveliness; no cloud was in the faultless sky, no
wind disturbed the shining air.
They embraced, taking a last look at the blue and
lovely dome above. At the foot of the HU1 of the Bells
the firing-squad awaited them. They fell dead at the
first volley. MaximUian had begged to be shot in the
body, that his mother, in cruel suspense in far Vienna,
might look again upon his face. His last words were,
"Viva Mexico!" Mejia was silent. What Miramon said
I know not, but their hearts were open to God.
Mr. S. and his daughter, a beautiful girl, arrived early
this morning. As we are probably soon to leave Mexico,
they are good enough to let us stay on in our present
quarters for the remaining time, and wiU occupy the
smaU apartment down-stairs. I had a great bunch of
pale sweet-peas put in her room.
Going to Chapultepec this afternoon with Aunt L., also
taking Miss S. and Mrs. Parraga, a Mexican friend of
287

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Aunt L.'s, to be presented, after which we go to Madame
Lefaivre's.
June 20th.
Administration faces were wreathed in smiles at the
reception; the Orozco revolution is not only dying the
usual unnatural death, but it seems likely to be interred.
General Huerta knows the value of a few weU-placed
blows, but nothing seems to stay "put" here. Nearly
every shade of Mexican has fitted himself out with one
or more grievances, and underlying it aU is that quite
peculiar organization of Latin-American society whereby
one set of opinions may be uniformly expressed in public,
while the intellectual classes, in secret, hold entirely
opposing ones.
A terrible downpour during the reception. From the
windows of la vitrina, as the long, glass-inclosed
balcony leading out of the "Salon of the Ambassadors"
is called, Mexico City was a damp, duU thing, buildings
and streets showing as great dark scratchings. There
was no light in the sky and the hUls were obscured by
curtain-like, formless clouds with coppery linings.
When we got home it was stUl raining in torrents, and
we descended in the adjacent garage. In doing so I
caught my skirts, hung in air, and finaUy fell to the
ground, my dress torn to bits and myself shaken to the
same. When I looked at my hands to see if they were
still hanging to my wrists, I saw that my big emerald
was missing from its setting.
It was not simply raining. The sky was opening and
letting the water out, and it was quite dark in the garage.
About a dozen Indians and several employees stood
about. I cried, "Mi esmeralda!" and we all proceeded
to look. I was passing my hand over the floor near
various Indian hands when suddenly I felt the smooth
ness of the stone. An Indian said to me, "Dios es con

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
usted" ("God is with you"). Well, it was not fated to be
lost that time. I have just left it at La Perla to be
well reclamped into the setting, thankful that that com
panion of my wanderings is stUl with me.
The sweet, full letter from Rankweil is received. I
long to smeU the sunset meadows with you. June 23 d, evening.
After a day of skimming over the valley with Aunt L.,
the Seegers, Mr. Butler, and Mr. de Soto.
I had long wanted to go out to Huehuetoca to see the
famous tajo de Nochistongo, the great cut in the moun
tains, the most interesting point of the wonderful system
of draining the lakes of the Valley of Mexico. It was a
problem to Aztec rulers, viceroys, and presidents, finally
solved, like a good many other things, in the Diaz epoch —
and always bound up with the joys and sorrows of the
valley. The Lake of Texcoco, the largest of the six
lakes, hospitably receives the waters of the other lakes
to such an extent that once it was considered to
have a "leaky bottom," draining down to the Gulf
of Mexico.
There were immense floodings of the city in old days,
and in 1607 one so great that for several years the
streets were traversed in canoes, and the saintly Arch
bishop of Mexico used to be poled and rowed about,
distributing food to the starving.
The Huehuetoca road runs out through Atzcapotzalco,
once a teeming Toltec and Aztec center, now only the
haunt of Indians and an infrequent archaeologist. Any
and every turn of the soil there reveals traces of lost
races. At the next town, Tlalnepantla, though we were
all feeling more in the mood for general effects than
detailed inspections, we did our duty and went into the
interesting old church, finding it full not only of sacred
289

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
relics, but of profane, in the shape of carved Indian
stones and various sorts of monoliths. In the cold,
ancient baptistry is a strange prehistoric cyfindrical
vase. There are stUl traces of the earthquake of several
years ago, whose rendings revealed a wealth of buried
objects. Several Indians, gathered about the motor as
we came out, furtively drew from their knotted shirts
some objects which properly belonged to the govern
ment — obsidian knives and a few masks, Hke those in
the museum at San Juan Teotihuacan. We bought
them out, and proceeded to Cuautitlan, the old posting-
town I have written you about.
Mr. de Soto says that tradition has it that here was
born Juan Diego, the Indian to whom the Virgin of
Guadalupe appeared. You see how interesting it is
along these roads. Each step is always historic or
legendary, as weU as beautiful. The next village is
Teoloyucan, where one branches off to go to Tepozotlan.
Since leaving the posting-town we could see the
belfry of the church looking pink and lovely against
especially blue and lovely hills. The foreground was
of maguey and maize fields stretching away to the
mountains. Hedges of nopal, graceful wiUows and
pepper-trees, and Indian life, mysterious, yet simple,
living itself out on road and field. We were held up
for quite a whUe by a dozen burros laden with fresh,
shining skins bulging with pulque. A great deal of
unnecessary prodding of the unfortunate animals went
on, the usual audience appearing from the hedges at
the noise.
The hacienda of the former governor of the Federal
District, Landa y Escandon, now in Europe, is out here.
It contains most beautiful works of art, Spanish and
viceregal, and many priceless Chinese and French porce-
290

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
lains, these last presentations when various ancestors
were at various French courts.1
We thought for a moment of asking the administrator
to show us over it, but succumbed instead to the invad
ing magic of the road and the pleasant inertia of the
automobile. As you wiU see, it wasn't a day to improve
one's mind, but rather to bathe one's soul. As we got
into the mountains near the famous "cut of Nochis-
tongo," we spoke the name of the grand old Indian now
a- wandering in exile, and talked of the solemn dedication
ceremonies when the engineering marvel was com
pleted in 1900 under his auspices.
In connection with the making of the "cut" and the
canals winding through and between the lakes are an
cient, sad tales of forced Indian labor, drivings, expos
ures, and deaths ; a sort of mita where each had to lend
not only a hand, but often give a life. In the old days
the viceroys made annual visits to Huehuetoca, lasting
several days, conducted with regal splendor.
Nature seemed inconceivably gentle and beautiful
there, with its vistas of translucent hills, all gradations
of green and gray and blue softly rolfing, meeting the eye
and faUing away. The volcanoes were of clearest white
in the pure air, and the shining valley was a gem set
within it aU. We stopped by a delightful old bridge
with its battered viceregal coat of arms, a relic of the an
cient post-road to Zacatecas, over which a silver stream
flowed into the Casa de Moneda (Mint) in Mexico City, to
flow again in shining piastres across the ocean to Spain.
I suppose I will be sorry I didn't examine the "cut" a
Httle more carefully, but the day was such a flood of
soft Hght that details were quite swept away, so tant pis
for Huehuetoca. As it was, we didn't get back to town
1 These treasures were scattered and destroyed during the first Car
rancista occupation.
20 291

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
tiU nearly three o'clock, when we repaired to the Auto
mobile Club where "Martinis," sandwiches and fruits,
partaken of on the veranda, restored us, and we
started out again to San Angel.
A perfect afternoon, no sign of rain, and anything as
opaque as a house seemed unspeakably repugnant to our
souls. At San Angel we wandered about in a deserted
garden-like orchard. Roses, heliotrope, and fifies mingled
with fig, quince, apricot, peach, apple, and pear trees, and
soft crumbling pink walls inclosed them all. Beyond were
more beautiful blue hills linked to those of the morning,
and now swimming in the afternoon haze the volcanoes
towering above in a splendor of mother-of-pearl.
These old Mexican gardens are beautiful beyond
words, but I think one must feel the magic of them in
the flesh — not out of it — to know the full enchantment.
Later we went into the inn, once a great monastery,
now transformed into a "hotel with aU modern con
veniences," as the prospectus says, and where, for a
moment, I thought of going when we first arrived.
Some of its ancient beauty is left; old chests and
ecclesiastical chairs, and long, carved refectory tables
fill the corridors, and pictures of saints and priors hang
on the thick walls. There is a charming patio sur
rounded by cloisters, where monks once walked, saying
their breviaries and their beads, and where now tables are
placed from which tourists renew and strengthen the flesh.
Above is a terrace bounded by a lacy, intertwining
design of grayish-pink balcony. In the center of the
court is an oval double-basined fountain, with a Httle
palm planted in the middle of the top one, and water-
lifies in the lower one. Masses of crimson rambler were
in their last luxuriance, and shining lemon and orange
trees, with fruit thick upon them, grew in the Httle
flower-beds. There is a large, new, glass-inclosed room
292

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
where the proprietor, quite a character, likes to have his
patrons go. A corner of the old refectory was sacrificed
to do this modernizing, but we had the tea served at a
table in the patio, and watched the patch of blue sky
get pink and the colors of the flowers darken. When we
finally turned homeward in an indigo-colored world it
was to find the volcanoes like two great flaming torches,
casting strange lights upon the dark-blue earth over
which we sped. Nothing but night could have induced
us to leave the beauty of it all for brick-and-plaster
man-made dweUings. June 27th.
Professor Mark Baldwin and Mr. Butler came for
lunch — and very pleasant. The application of the
American mentality to the elusive Mexican equation
is always a more or less stimulating process, and one
generaUy feels comfortably, somewhat smugly, superior
in spite of the fact that one never gets beyond the X.
Professor Baldwin sent me his book, The Individual and
Society, made up of lectures given at the university here,
and dedicated to Ezechiel Chavez, Sub-Secretary of Pub
lic Instruction. It is most interesting and I am posting
it with this. June 29th.
Peter and Paul's Day. After which our beloved friend used to leave
Rome.
A sweet letter from Aunt Louise inclosing one of dear
Mr. Stedman's poems, "The Undiscovered Country."
I have tucked it into my mirror, where I can look at it
whUe having my hair done. It begins :
Could we but know
The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel,
Where lie those happier hills and meadows low —
Ah, if beyond the spirit's inmost cavil,
Aught of that country could we surely know,
Who would not go?
293

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Aunt Louise was just back from church, and the text
made a sacrilegious smile overspread my face, "Look
to the hills whence thy help cometh."
Trouble is what comes from the hUls here. However,
I will blight no illusions when I answer. She had picked
a single, beautiful Carl Bruschi rose in its perfection
from her rose-corner, to put upon the Sunday dinner-
table, with a bit of feathery green. I can see her doing
it and "rescuing seedlings from the clutch of weeds,"
and dusting the peach-tree, and straightening the hoUy-
hocks, and "feeding much upon her thoughts."
With her letter came a long letter from Senator
Smith, and his Titanic speech in fuU.

xxv
Orozco and his troops flee toward the American border — A typical
conversation with President Madero — Huerta's brilliant campaign
in the north — The French fetes — San Joaquin July 4th, 4 p.m.
HOME from a motor trip and luncheon with Aunt L.
at the Country Club, and now getting ready for a
rather inexplicable reception at Chapultepec. In the
evening there is to be a big theatrical representation to
celebrate the glorious Fourth. July $th.
Orozco1 and his troops are fleeing to the north toward
the American border. When we got up to Chapultepec
yesterday we found out that the fact that it was our
"Fourth" had been overlooked in the governmental
rejoicings. Finally, however, the situation cleared, and
there were congratulations all around, everybody free
and equal, we congratulating them because of the defeat
of Orozco, they congratulating us on general and special
principles. Bulletins had been coming in all day about
Orozco' s flight from the battle-field of Bachimba, with
General Huerta in full pursuit. Madero appears stUl
untroubled, but he has grown visibly older. "Uneasy
lies the head that wears the crown," even if it is in the
clouds. Refreshments were served at small tables on the great
1 Orozco was arrested with General Huerta by the United States au
thorities on June 27, 1915. A few days later he escaped his guard at
El Paso, and shortly afterward was killed during a raid on the border.
295

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
terrace, but the strangest wind came up, and everything
was blown about, table-cloths flapping, vases over
turned, and an uncanny, transient darkness faUing. The
immensely tall man, Adolfo Basso, Intendente del Pa
lacio — "beber Toluca 6 no beber" we caU him, looms high
at every reception.
I was glad to see Madame de Palomo there. She is of
the "other set," which appears sometimes for charity,
but not for Maderista social happenings. She is the
head of the Mexican Red Cross, and I have seen her in
that way. She has an old house in the Colonia de San
Rafael, CaUe Icazbalceta, once fashionable, and some
interesting old furniture and bric-a-brac. One very
elaborate and beautifuUy carved confessional, in her
family for generations, iUustrates the history of St.
John Nepomuk. In an artistic flight of fancy on the
part of him who designed it, the head of the king is
represented peeping in through a convenient aperture
at the back, trying to hear what the queen confides
while at confession. It's not very theological, but it's
human and, from the point of view of the collector, quite
unique. Mrs. WUson and I had rather a typical Mexican
conversation with the President. It was a propos of
Cuemavaca, which the Zapatista scares have always
prevented me from visiting. To-day, as we stood
talking with Mr. Madero, he said, "Order is now
complete," and added that the Zapatistas were weU
in hand. We then said we were immensely refieved,
as we wanted very much to motor to Cuemavaca.
He assured us it was perfectly safe and wished us a
pleasant journey.
I had barely got home when Carmona came over from
the Foreign Office to say that the President begged the
ladies of the American Embassy to postpone their trip,
296

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
as it would be better not to run the risks of travel on
unfrequented roads just now.1
To-day the soft-voiced Zambo that brings me objetos
antiguos appeared with several handsome old coins,
and an embroidered shawl, a manta, white on pale
saffron. This last is now hanging out on the little ole
ander terrace to be sunned and aired, and the three
coins have been scrubbed. One was of him of the "Iron
Horse," Carolus IV 1792 Dei gratia Hispan et Ind., Rex,
showing his receding forehead, aquiline nose, and pleased,
voluptuous Bourbon mouth; his ear is deeply stamped
with a counter-mark.
It appears these coins are still to be found throughout
the Orient; each banker through whose hands they
passed would stamp his own Httle mark on it. The
other was more ancient and bore the date 1741 with the
device " Utraque Unum," showing the piUars of Hercules
surmounted each by a crown, and two hemispheres in
between, joined by another crown. This was Philip V.'s
modest device. There was also a little medal of the
Virgin of Guadalupe, so defaced (I suppose it had been
worn around generations of necks) that I could scarcely
see the date, which appeared to be 17 10.
AU this seems very simple, but any foreigner Hving in
Mexico would know that I had had a "good" morning.
How the objects came into the possession of the co-
merciante en objetos antiguos would be quite another
story.
1 A young mining engineer lately come out of Mexico on one of the
intermittent trains, over the once favorite northern route, tells me that
everywhere the stations are destroyed. Overturned rolling-stock lies
rotting in the ditches; at one point where the fuel gave out the train
men got down and chopped up the seats remaining on what once had been
a station platform, and at another a Pullman car was smashed and fed to
the engine. What intending travelers and the stockholders in the com
pany think of Carranza's passion for reconstruction is said to be too fierce
for expression! — E. O'S., January, 1917.
297

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Mexican numismatic history is as romantic as its
mining history, and bound up with it. Effigies of va
rious rulers of the nation appear and disappear with a
dramatic but disconcerting rapidity. The Iturbide
coins are extremely rare, but I saw one the other day,
and it is on them that the eagle and the cactus first
appear. On the other side, around Iturbide's bold pro
file with projecting jaw, is graven Augustinus I Dei
Providencia, 1822. Now we have simply the eagle and
the cactus, and the redoubtable word "Libertad"
stamped in the Phrygian bonnet. July 7th.
To-day we picnicked at the Casa Blanca, out beyond
San Angel. It belongs to an Enghshman, Mr. MorkiU,
now engaged in business in South America. When we
got there, in spite of explicit telephonings, there was no
key to be had. One person went to fetch the caretaker,
who lived qutin sabe where, and some one went to fetch
him and so on, an endless chain. We must have been
outside for nearly an hour, looking up at the lovefiest
and pinkest of walls, above which showed tops of palm-
and fruit-trees and delicious known and unknown vines.
FinaUy, a very old woman and a very young boy
appeared with the key to the door of that especial para
dise, and we went in, with a loud sound of locking after
us, and a "Pu6s quUnsabe?" in a belated, breathless mas
culine voice. The garden, as all unfrequented gardens
in Mexico are, was a riot of loveliness. We spent an hour
wandering about its enchantment, and some one quoted
that lovely poem —
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Fern'd grot —
The veriest school of peace —
298

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
interrupted at this line by appropriate and aU too ready
jibes about peace in Mexico.
Within the larger garden was a sort of inner taber
nacle, a sun-bathed, inclosed fruit-garden — peach and
quince growing with orange and lemon and fig, and the
little pathway was fringed with HHes. The house showed
the unmistakable quick results of inoccupancy here ; the
doors sagged, the windows stuck, and it was dismantled
of most of its furniture.
We got out some tables and spread our luncheon in a
Httle mosquete and jasmine-blossoming porch, even with
the ground, opening from one of the salons. Continual
whiffs of perfume came from the garden, and the air
was now damp with threatening rain or indescribably
briUiant as the clouds passed. Mrs. Wilson brought
some especiaUy good things in the way of jellied chicken
and one of the large cocoanut cakes for which the
Embassy is famed. Mr. Potter's motor we called "the
cantina," for obvious and refreshing reasons.
Afterward, while we waited for the rain to pass, we
went to the mirador, built in a corner of the high wall of
the bigger garden, overlooking the maguey-fields, which
stretched away to the lovely hills, on which great, black
shadows were lying between sunlit spaces. When we
came down we picked armfuls of flowers, and there were
some particularly beautiful trailing blackberry sprays
with which we innocently decorated ourselves, but which
I have discovered left indelible marks on our raiment.
As we fiUed the motors with wet, sweet, shiny flowers and
leaves, we sighed that the owners of anything so lovely
should be so distant.
July 15th.
The Schuylers have gone — a week ago — and N. is at
the Embassy bright and early these mornings. The
ambassador is more and more pessimistic, and there
299

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
is a huge amount of work to be turned over every
day.
The situation is heavy with responsibility for him, and
the road thorny and fuU of the unexpected. Am now
waiting for Madame Lefaivre, to go to the Red Cross.
Burnside has returned from the north, where he has
been with General Huerta's army. He says Huerta
conducted a reaUy brilliant campaign against Orozco, in
spite of illness among the troops, smaUpox, typhus, etc.,
and the difficulties of communication. The amiable sol-
dadera deputed to look after his morning coffee, with her
nursing baby in her arms, asked him, with unmistakable
intent, the first day, if he would have it with or without
milk. Needless to record, he took it black. July 15th.
The French fetes are beating their full at the Tivoli
Eliseo. They seem to celebrate the 14th of July from
the 6th to the 20th. The Lefaivres invisible, except to
their colony. For the sake of la nation amie, I put
my head inside yesterday — and was met with a cloud
of confetti and swarms of vendeuses. Bands were play
ing, and there was dancing at one end, and everywhere
a lively selling of objects for the French osuvres de bien-
faisance in Mexico. The celebrated Buen Tono cigarette-
manufactory had outdone itself in generosity, its booth
being the clou.
Last night there was a patriotic performance at the
Teatro Colon. Kilometers of tricolor and a very demon
strative colony filled the huge place to overflowing.
We got there just as the Mexican national hymn was
sounding, and the President and his wife, with the Vice-
President, were being ushered into the great central
loge, where Monsieur and Madame Lefaivre were wait
ing to receive them bowered in red and white and blue
flowers and lights, with a great tricolor floating beneath,
300

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
After the last singing of the "Marseillaise" we went in
to speak to them and found the President saying to the
minister: "C'est Liberty, jEgaliU, FraterniU que je vou-
drais voir dirigeant les destinies du Mexique," whUe a
look as remote as the poles came into his eyes. Mon
sieur Lefaivre, for the sake of the vast French interests
to be safeguarded, has always cultivated the friendliest
relations with Madero — hoping against hope that the
situation may develop elements of stability. Madero is
obsessed by French political maxims, but without any
understanding of that very practical genius which enables
the doux pays de France to turn ideas into actualities. The
Encyclopedists, however, are having quite a revival in
"glorious gory Mexico." We came home unconvinced,
yet vaguely hopeful, under a blaze of constellations set
in wondrous relief against great black spaces. July 17th.
I have just closed George Moore's Ave Atque Vale.
A new book by him continues to be a delicious inteUectual
repast. I read it in rather a miserly manner, knowing
there cannot be many more, not tearing its heart out as
I so often do with books. He is nearing the inevitable
departure on that last journey — and he will not return
to write epigrams about it. July igth.
I am scribbfing this in the lovely old patio of San
Joaquin, out beyond the hacienda of Morales, sitting on a
comfortably slanted grave-slab, on which I can just dis
tinguish a bishop's miter and a faint tracing of the date —
17 something and requiescat in pace. Delicate mosses,
bits of cactus, and a tiny, vine-like, yeUow flower make
it a thing of beauty.
Madame Lefaivre and Elsie S. are sketching; all is
peaceful, sun-flooded, with much singing of birds, and
3°i

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the trees are dropping solid bits of gold through their
dark branches. There is a fine old five-beUed belfry
that pierces the perfect sky ; the top beU and one of the
next lower pair are missing (in what vagary of Mexican
history they disappeared I know not).
This was once a Carmefite monastery, and stUl has a
wonderful garden and a celebrated peach and pear and
chabacano orchard. The wall inclosing the orchard is
so high that scarcely anything green grows taU enough
to show above it, though the mirador has a few vines
twisting about it. The wall, however, is beautiful in
itself — pink, crumbling, sun-baked, with moss and flow
ers and bits of cactus clinging to it, and a fruity odor
was wafted over to us as we passed on the broken, ditch
like road with the motor at an angle of forty -five degrees.
There is a large space, planted with Hve-oaks, outside
the patio of the church with its lovely, broadly scaUoped
pink wall. Once through the carved door, one is as if in
a bath of sun and beauty. Before another time-worn,
carved door leading into the church stand two straight,
black, immemorial cypresses. The inside waU of the
patio has, here and there, an old carved coat of arms
cemented into it, and colored growing things abound.
The Hve-oaks outside bend above the scaUoping of the
waUs, on which are ancient numbers above flat-carved
symbols for the "Way of the Cross."
Elsie chose a corner inside, and Madame Lefaivre is
sketching outside, so I got the guardian, who is also
the administrator of the orchard and hacienda, to unlock
the church. Several gilded Churrigueresque altars stiU
remain — intricately designed, time-softened, lovely, and
on the altar steps were some charming old candlesticks,
five or six feet high, in the same lovely style of gilding
and twisting. How they have remained there during a
century of suburban vicissitudes I know not. Various
302

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
saints in ecstasy, San Joaquin in special, were por
trayed, almost life-size, their garments floating, fall
ing, blowing about, with the special unquiet but lovely
Churrigueresque touch. Winged, open-mouthed cheru
bim and seraphim hold up the vaulting with its wealth
of lovely, conventional motifs; throughout Mexico, in
churches where everything else is gone, one finds the
out-of-reach vaultings intact.
There is a school of a sort, held in what was once the
seminary behind the church; and some barefooted,
bareheaded, and otherwise scantily clad wrestlers with
the "three R's" came out from one end of the church
and passed through, followed by their teacher, a shabby,
bored-looking young Mestizo of doubtful cleanliness and
dubious competency. Calle Humboldt, Later.
I left you in the patio of San Joaquin. When I went
to see how the artists were progressing, I found them both
looking miserable and discouraged. No "fine frenzy" to
the roll of their eyes, though they were "glancing from
heaven to earth." The beauty here isn't one to record
on canvas, rather on memory and soul, which, having
remarked to them as gently as I could, they began to
clean their palettes.
We took a last, regretful look at all the pinky loveli
ness, the tiled dome, the silent belfry, the slender heads
of the two straight, coal-black cypresses, and the inex
pressibly lovely wall, wrapped ourselves about with the
shining air, and bumped homewards. "Quick, thy tab
lets, memory." July 20th.
We dined last night at the Ernesto Maderos' in their
handsome house in the Paseo, large enough to lose the
six chUdren in. Madame M. has been in mourning
3°3

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
(something that seems to happen to women oftener in
Mexico than in other places) and now is "out" again.
The official Mexicans spare no expense on the occa
sions when they open their houses, but it is always with
ceremony, without individuality; enftn Mexicans receiv
ing foreigners. The Riedls were there, and the Simons;
I have an idea Mr. S. finds his task a big one. He rarely
goes out, but this, to the Secretary of the Treasury, was
strictly within his orbit. Madame Simon wore a beauti
ful black paillette gown, with subtle touches of "point de
Venise," recently out from Paris.
She has driven us aU nearly crazy, anyway, with the
ravishing croquis and e'chantillons DrecoU and DoeuUlet
have been sending her, and which lie, temptingly, among
the latest French reviews and newest books on her table.
I sat by Lascurain, talking pleasantly of things not
political; that ground is volcanic and no place for for
eigners, even well-disposed. The new Belgian charge,
LeteUier, was on my other side.
A letter to-day from Madame de la G. from Chalons-
sur-Marne, where the Marquis is in command of the gar
rison. She wiU always be, to me, typical of the grandes
dames de France as they have appeared throughout the
centuries — those highly born, highly placed, highly cul
tured women with many natural gifts, whose wit and
beauty are the common heritage of us aU.
I bear that picture of her in her armchair, so beauti
fully dressed, especiaUy in that white chiffon gown we
liked so much, with a single dusky rose at her slender
waist, her dark hair so perfectly coiffe', her charming
welcoming smUe, with its hint of suffering borne, remote
from miseries, yet knowing pain. I can see the back
ground of bookcases; near by her shining tea-table,
and the little low table with its vase of flowers and
bibelots, and the latest book with a paper-cutter in it,
304

Photograph by Ravell

MEXICAN NUNS GOING TO MASS

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
or some consoling volume whose pages were cut by other
generations.1 With a change of costume, change of hours of visits
and dinner, she pictures to my imagination Madame de
Sevigne writing to Madame de Grignan, Madame de la
Fayette talking to La Rochefoucauld — all that flower
ing of an elegance of mind with its roots of culture, not
alone in books, but in the heart. Her mind is receptive,
yet so giving, her conversations so sparkling, with its
fond of phUosophies and politics, its richness of nuance,
its elastic impersonality, yet French, though dipped in
a thousand dyes and run in a thousand molds.
Her three boys go into the army, and of Marguerite
she says: "Gretl est vraiment mon ange gardien, ne me
quittant jamais, et me soignant, toujours gaie, toujours
divoue'e." "Chdlons etant d deux heures de Paris, les amis viennent
facilement." She gave me news of the Paul Festetics,
who had recently been there — "Fanny toujours V esprit
aussi alerte et aussi charmant" ; of the De B.'s, to whom
my heart goes out, " Tres-courageux, mais vous pensez si
c'est dur de continuer une route ainsi ravagee"; and for me
"Nos chemins se Croiseront-ils jamais d nouveau? It does
not look Hke it, helas." July 21st.
This evening, from the hUl of Tepeyac, I watched the
sun go down into a world of purple shadows rising from
the mysterious plain of Anahuac. The valley had been
stretched out before us like a chart, the hills in light and
shadow. We could name each glistening road leading
from the great city, and yet, little by little, one suc
cumbed to the mysteriousness of it all — until the whole
spectacle became an inner rather than an outer thing.
1 Marquis de la G., then military attach*; at the French Embassy in
Berlin. 3°5

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
No rain except for some sUver clouds with strange,
fugitive effects, just before sunset, that sifted a diamond
like rain for a few minutes over the face of the plain.
No wind, but something Hke a great, cool breathing was
about us.
We passed by the richly tiled Capilla del Pocito (Chapel
of the Well), of which he who drinks returns, and went
up the romantic old stone stairway leading to another
chapel. Half-way up are the celebrated "stone saUs of
Guadalupe," their origin dateless, the hands that put
them up unrecorded. They can be seen for miles about,
and near by they have a belle patine, and mosses and
bits of cactus and a flower or two grow from them.
They commemorate the escape from sea perils of Mexi
can mariners who had prayed the Virgin of Guadalupe
to bring them safely into port. When this had come
about, tradition has it that, continuing to befieve after
they were safe in Vera Cruz, they fulfilled their vow by
bringing up on their shoulders the rigging of their ship,
afterward encasing it in a covering of stone.
There are hooded, shrine-like resting-places as one
goes up the broad, flat steps between the beautiful, high-
scalloped wall, often a Via Dolorosa, for a cemetery is
on the very top behind the chapel that was buUt on the
spot where Juan Diego gathered the flowers, suddenly
springing up to be given as testimony to the unconvinced
bishop. A great wooden cross is in the Httle atrium, and we
found an Indian family sitting about it, eating their
supper, wrapped in their colored blankets, doubtless
preparing to spend the night "at the foot of the cross."
There was once a temple to the Aztec Ceres, ' ' Tonantzin,
our Mother," on this same spot.
In the cemetery lies buried the body of Santa Anna,
he who led his troops against ours.
306

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
There is a continual operative magic, some peculiar
proportioning of the subjective and the objective here,
with correspondences between the seen and the unseen
forever making themselves felt.
The domes and spires of the city shone in the after
noon Hght. Where one once saw the great aqueducts,
and the still more ancient canals, now rise the slender
steel frames bearing the wires of the light-and-power
company, charged in Necaxa, a hundred miles away,
down in the Hot Country. The lakes were yellowish-
sUver mirrors, the eternal hills swam in their strange
translucence, the great volcanoes pierced a lovely sky;
all quite relatable, except just what it is that pulls your
soul out of you as you look upon the deathless beauty
and think of the dark, restless, passionate races whose
heritage it is.
As we turned to descend the old stone way, the shin
ing city afar was as if suddenly dipped in purple, but
the sky above was of such pure and delicate tints —
lemon, saffron, and pale pink — that we wondered whence
the "Tyrian" purple could have come. We drove si
lently home in a many-colored twUight.
July 23d.
Yesterday I found a curious book, "par un citoyen de
VAmtrique nteridionale" ("by a citizen of South Amer
ica") (vague enough not to get him into trouble), caUed
Esquisse de la Revolution de V Anterique Espagnole, Paris,
1817. It is a saddening, mighty spectacle, the presentation
of that immense area in the throes of revolution. A few
enlightened viceroys at Mexico, Bogota, Buenos Aires,
might have saved the day. They were not ready for
self-government, but for Spain the hour had sounded
when she was to lose her great colonies; and Mexico,
the dearest, the richest, the most accessible, the most
21 3°7

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
beautiful, was to enter on her century of horrors, hero
isms, sacrifices — and the end is not yet.
I feel at times as if I were behind the scenes of
a mighty drama. I have read so much that I know
many of the repliques; have sorted some of the
red threads of the century-old plot, and, if I am not
behind the scenes really, I am in a sort of avant-scene,
where some of what goes on behind the curtain can be
surmised. This is the second summer of books read to the
pouring of tropical rains. Mr. S. has brought me sev
eral volumes of Jean Christophe — V Aube, La R&volte —
unread before and deeply relished. With aU his other
gifts, Romain Rolland 1 has the international mind
and keeps his seat extremely weU, a cheval as he is,
between France and Germany. To-day I finished Le
Buisson Ardent. During two strange, restless after
noons, I followed Anna's story in the darkness of the
tropical downpour, an earthy freshness coming up
from the flowers in the patio, and a sound of heavy
water faUing from rain-spout and roof. July 27th.
A lovely morning on the roof with E., drying our hair
in matchless sun, looking at the volcanoes and talking.
She said I reminded her of the art nouveau inkstand,
that for my sins I won at bridge the other day, which
has the hair drawn down to the feet of the figure for the
pen to rest on. She looked as if she had stepped out of
some lovely old Persian tile with her masses of dark
hair standing out about her handsome head. There is
a poet brother, whose portrait of some years ago hangs
in one of the rooms, a large-eyed, straight-featured boy,
with a speculative forehead and remote eyes.
1 Et comment fera celui qui a re(u du sort le don superbe et fatal de voir
la viriU, et de ne pouvoir pas ne pas la voir? — Romain Rolland, Vie de
Tolstoi. (January, 1917.) 308

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
From what I gather, he is evidently a genius, not
meant for harness, feeling the world owes him a living
(which it probably does), that he may toss off a sonnet,
when so impelled, or feel free to read Euripides in some
choice edition bought with his last dollar, in the com-
pletest insouciance as to the date and amount of the
next remittance. He used to take long, lonely, timeless
walks about these hiUs and valleys, reappearing after
hours or days, with a poem that he wouldn't show, or
a thought not convenient in famUy life.1
1 Killed in battle at Belloy-en-Santerre, July, 1916.
A friend and companion of Alan Seeger's Harvard days, Pierre Abreu,
himself extraordinarily fitted for the understanding of the "humanities"
in every sense, told me of him one windy twilight crossing to France on
the Espagne that autumn after his death. I had just seen, in my North
American Review, that most charming of all his poems, "I Have a Ren
dezvous with Death."
He was evidently a free, romantic being, Latinized in temperament and
mentality, receptive and creative. Abreu met him first at a Sophocles
course — he was a brilliant, original classical scholar, with an elasticity
of culture that made him also able to translate a gem of Clement Marot,
or Ronsard, into perfect form at sight. For the impressionable years of
gifted adolescence, what more suggestive setting than that magnetic
valley of Mexico?
Now he hes in France. His high, adventurous spirit was meant for
wars and chances, doubtless in the old, romantic sense of battle.
"Heroes battling with heroes and above them the wrathful gods."
For this type there could be but one consummation. But it seems to
me all can be fulfilled as well at twenty-eight as at threescore and ten,
and. the completion of no man's destiny is dependent on his years. —
E. O'S., January, 1917.

XXVI
Balls at the German Legation and at Madame Simon's — Necaxa — A
strange, gorge-like world of heat and light — Mexican time-tables —
The French trail August 17 th.
UNWONTED festivities here. For two nights run
ning we have "tripped the light fantastic." Night
before last Madame Simon gave a big baU, and last
night there was one at the German Legation. The
dancing world was out in full swing, bumping into a
varied assortment of waU-flowers, tropical and tem
perate. Handsome favors and elaborate suppers at both these
oailes de confianza, and the later it got, the wUder and
more spirited became the music. I gave the coup de
grdce to the pink velvet Buda-Pesth court dress at
von H.'s.
The Benoist d'Azy are here from Washington. It
always adds to the gaiety of nations to have etrangers de
distinction make their appearance. They have all the
interest of events. It isn't often the capital sees two
smart balls, one after the other.
A long-expected box of suits and things from Peter
Robinson's for Elim has just arrived. He didn't fancy
trying on, and in the struggle asked me suddenly "Who
was Jesus Christ's tailor?" I was a bit taken aback. I
must say I had never put those words or ideas together.
When I recovered my mental activity, I told him
that Jesus' Mother made his clothes for him, whereupon
310

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
he answered: "These only came from London," and
wouldn't lift his feet from the floor when I wanted him
to try on some little trousers. He doubtless needed a
spanking which he didn't get. Mama was feeling
decidedly slack after two nights of dissipation at an
altitude of nearly eight thousand feet. Madame Montes-
sori says a psychological change comes over children at
the age of six. I look forward to it.
Necaxa, State of Vera Cruz
August 23d.
Station of the Light and Power Company.
I have only time for a word. We arrived here at five-
thirty, after a twelve-hour journey through indescrib
able beauty. We left the house in a clear dawn — Rieioff,
the Seegers, Burnside, and myself — and all day have been
winding through mountain passes, deep barrancas, with
a sound of rushing waters, and great forests of pine-trees,
red and white cedars, and delicate ferns almost as high,
through which our little geared-locomotive would have
seemed a pioneer had it not been for the sight of the
delicate steel towers that support the wires of the Light
and Power Company.
In the afternoon great masses of shifting light flooded
broad valleys or stamped the heights with shining patches
as the rain-clouds passed and repassed between brilliant
bits of sunny heaven. We came as the guests of the Light
and Power Company, and the manager and chief engineer,
an Enghshman, Mr. Cooper, met us and brought us to the
club-house, very comfortable, according to Anglo-Saxon
ideas, with easy-chairs, verandas, etc. After a bounti
ful repast, according to the same ideas, we walked about
the little plateau, in an enchantment of changing Hghts,
till night suddenly fell and everything was blotted out,
and we bethought ourselves that beata solitudine was
311

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the only fitting finale to it aU. We have planned a fuU
morrow, which is near, so good night.
Sunday, 25th.
I did not write yesterday. In the morning Mr. Cooper
took us down to the dynamos, reached by a cog-raUway,
through a great, dark tunnel-like incline with a bright
speck of Hght at the far end. We issued out of the cool
dimness to find ourselves in a strange gorge-Hke world
of heat and light, with a great mass of faUing water, the
distant edge of the waterfaU outlined against a high,
shining heaven; against it, again, thousands of smaU,
briUiant blue butterflies, and on aU sides the most gor
geous plants and trees. There was an effect of some
circle of Paradise, and something mysterious and magic
in the very practicafity of it all, when one thinks that
these falls, nearly six hundred feet high — and a hundred
kUometers from Mexico City — supply the Hght and motor
power of the town.
Doctor Pearson is the genius who controls it aU, and
his name is breathed with awe at Necaxa.1 As we stood
looking up at the falling waters, bright birds and heavy
scents about us, "the white man is lord and king of it
aU," I kept saying to myself.
To-day has been stiU fuller. In the afternoon we
visited the great dam that is just being finished to pro
vide an immense storage reservoir against the dry season.
Water is as precious as gold in Mexico, and in many
places scarcer.
Some one remarked that there seemed to be little or
no manana about it, and Mr. C. told the story of
one of his first experiences in Mexico, when he was still
under the spell of the time-table.
1 Dr. F. S. Pearson, to whose genius this astounding engineering feat is
largely due, lost his life on the Lusitania. 312

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
He was waiting at a station where the only passenger-
train was scheduled to pass every day at 9 a.m. He
arrived at the station a few minutes before nine, to see
the train just disappearing. On complaining to the
jefe de estacion about this running ahead of time, he
received the bland response that it was yesterday's
train that had just passed out and there was every
reason to suppose that the train of to-day would be
delayed, perhaps as long! He cooled his heels till the
next dawn. But Necaxa wasn't built at a cost of a
hundred miUion pesos on that principle, he added.
We had started out after breakfast to explore the
"French traU" — a son of Gaul was once owner of
Necaxa — plunging perpendicularly over the side of the
Httle plateau, to find ourselves on the most romantic
of footpaths, formerly the only road through the gor
geous wilderness.
It got hotter and hotter as we descended, and though
Rieioff kept insisting that, technically, we were not
yet in Tierra Caliente, all its abundancies seemed to
surround us: giant ferns, ebony and rosewood trees,
lovely orchids hanging from high branches, convolvuli
of all colors; and under our feet mosses, by the yard,
of rare and lovely fabric, each patch holding a world
of tiny forms and tints. I started to follow one bit-of
morning-glory vine, but was obliged to give it up. I
could nor bear to break it, and it would have led me,
like an endless thread, through a labyrinth of sarsa-
parUla, myrtle, and fern.
The brightest of birds and butterflies were flying
about — the sort of things one finds under glass in
northern museums — and a huge, scarlet flower of the
hibiscus type was everywhere splashed over the green.
Here and there an Indian appeared from quien sabe
where. It was all his and yet not his.
313

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
We came up in the cool dimness of the cog-raUway,
and after cold douches and luncheon, enlivened with
entomological discussions (that lovely wilderness is alive
with invisible biting specimens), we went with Mr. Cooper
to the reservoir.
We have spent the evening mostly meeting the officials
of the company and playing bridge. (!) Though it
was the least noblesse oblige allowed, it seemed a lot after
the long, full day — on paie ses plaisirs. . . .
However, they were all so nice and so pleased to
see people from the outside world that, once in our
"bridge stride," it wasn't so hard. Rieioff, who hates
cards, after a while went to the piano, bursting into
"Du meiner Seele schonster Traum" — foUowing it up
with the "Moonlight Sonata"; so, in the end, we
found ourselves sitting in a dimly-lighted room, with
Beethoven floating out on the soft Indian night —
and all was well.
I am dead with sleep, and early to-morrow we depart.
42 Calle Humboldt,
August 26th, late evening.
We were awakened at 5.30 in a dawn of such exceed
ing beauty that, as I stepped out into it, I was tempted
to faU upon my knees rather than hurry to our Httle
train. On one side were the hills, so veiled in splendors
of filmy pearls and blues and pinks that their forms
could only be imagined; on the other was an abyss of
gold and rose and sapphire into which our train was to
plunge. All day long we went from glory to glory; but I got
home to find that something human and dreadful had
happened in my absence: Little Emma C, playing over
the roof with Laurita and Elim, escaped for one unex
plained second from Gabrielle — fell from it to the stone
314

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
patio — her fall, for an instant, broken by a balcony
railing. I hurried to her mother's. The child is afive, but
dreadfully injured, and, it is feared, for life. Nature
was too beautiful at Necaxa not to exact some sort of
toll from those admitted to it. I am dreadfully upset.

XXVII
A luncheon for Gustavo Madero — Celebrating the Grito at the
Palace — The President's brother explains his philosophy — Hacienda
of San Cristobal — A typical Mexican Sunday dinner September 3d.
THE funcion I gave yesterday went off with a good
deal of snap. Everybody in town was there, and
the house filled to bursting. Elsie S. and I brewed the
classic Grosvenor punch ourselves and arranged masses
of flowers everywhere. Probably it wiU be the last
gathering I shaU have, sic transit, etc.
Madame Madero came with her two sisters-in-law.
She seems more worn, thinner, and older; a year heavy
with anxieties has passed over her since I first saw her
in the flush of hope and triumph at the German Legation.
The Porfiristas — all the old regime — hold the United
States responsible for Madero's success, because of our
permitting him to organize and finance himself on our
border, and there are others who think, rather para
doxically, that it is due to us that he has not had more
success. As for the Maderistas, they don't understand any
thing, feel no obligation to us, and wonder why we don't
do more. The active anti-Maderistas feel very bitter
that in any revolt aimed against Madero they can't
"use" the border. Nobody has any political love for
us. We loom up as uncertain in our mode of action,
but powerful as arbiters of destinies.
I have not been watching as carefully as I might the
316

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
great, threefold presidential race at home. It's a con
soling thought that any one of them will make a good
President and under any one of them the United
States wUl pursue its vast and brilliant destiny. Me
thinks, however, as regards two of the candidates,
that, after the White House, no other place can ever
really seem luce home.
September 4th.
Luncheon here to-day for the Gustavo Maderos. He
came in with rather more energy and magnetism than
usual, and kept things lively. He produced from his
pocket and presented to the various assembled guests
some small, gilded statues of St. Anthony, in little
glass, bottle-like reliquaries. He said San Antonio was
his patron saint, and quite frankly stated that he was
superstitious. His wit is of the ready kind — readiness in all things is
doubtless his greatest quality. He seems not only ex
cited by his prosperity and prominence, but intoxicated
by it aU. There is no gainsaying the fact that he does
give a magnetic hint of possibilities by that abounding
energy and life, overflowing and communicative, if he
only wouldn't give the effect of taking everything in
sight for himself or his friends. He is continually en
veloped in clouds of incense by the expectant who form
his circle.
There are questions, from time to time, of the seven
hundred thousand pesos he got from the treasury for
the expenses of the revolution, but, to do him justice,
it appears there are national, as well as family reasons
which make it inexpedient for him to fully explain.
As he was smoking his cigar in the library after
lunch he said to me, with an intellectual flash : ' ' Senora,
we Latin-Americans think of everything you think of,
but we don't put our thoughts into action. I am differ-
317

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ent. When I decide on something I act immediately,
which is why I ought to succeed."
I thought there was a whole world in that remark.
One of the difficulties here is the turning of their very
briUiant ideas into action at the psychological moment.
Madame Gustavo M. is handsome in a rather more
artificial style than the other dynastic consorts. She
has done something to her hair. But aU the Madero
women have qualities of good looks, freshness, and
amiabUity. As they said good-by, standing on the veranda, the
perfect square of blue heaven above us, I thought how
typical Gustavo Madero was of Latin-America in many
of its aspects, and that he was gifted with some quafi-
ties not often found here. He is above medium height,
with reddish-brown hair, and incfines to the flashy in
dress and gesture — the type of the clever rasta. He is
known as ojo parado, but after lunching with him on my
right in that sun-flooded dining-room I couldn't teU
which was the glass eye and which the mortal orb.
They were both of an astounding brilfiancy. September nth.
The War Department orders two regiments of regulars
to the Mexican border to reinforce the soldiers on duty,
but they don't like it down here. The Intransigente, fiv-
ing up to its name, had an editorial which rather took
our breath away, to the effect that nothing can be done
while the American fist is threatening Mexico.
It speaks in the name of every Indo-Spanish nation,
decrying the smiles of ambassadors and the hypocrisy
of official notes, and saying that our affections, at the
best, can only be diplomatic, that we can have treaties
for the carrying on of commerce, etc., — that anything
where the spirit of the two peoples does not touch can
3i8

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
be provided for. But "our soul is against their soul,
their cupidity against our pride; our faith is the Latin
faith, the faith of the Scipios and the Guzmans; theirs
is the fides punica of the Maine and the Panama Canal!"
Now that what all really feel has been said, perhaps
the air wiU clear for a day. I had some time since con
cluded, with Thomas Jefferson, that "the press is a
fountain of Hes," but this was for once the crystal truth.
The collegues were quite excited about it, and I have no
doubt the statement was sent in full to their various
foreign offices as indicative of the underlying sentiments.
Mr. Stronge, who is most conciliatory, and a natural
uniter of factions, somewhat belying his Irish blood
(when I asked him, "Irish diplomacy, what is it?" he
didn't know the simple answer, "See a head, punch it"),
considers this only a passing flare-up. But qui4n sabe,
qutin sabe? September 16th.
We went, last night, to the palace to celebrate the
Grito, and again I saw those tens of thousands of
upturned faces, as we stood upon the balcony over
looking the Zocalo.
I was taken in to supper — the usual ceremonious,
standing affair — by the Minister of War. He showed
me a telegram confimiing the capture of Orozco, who
was not captured at aU. They are very previous about
accepting congratulations concerning good news, whether
true or false. The President was receiving felicitations
all the evening, and the Minister of War said, "We wUl
of course shoot him immediately if Los Estados Unidos
wUl extradite him." He was supposedly to be taken
on American soU. This morning we saw there had
been a big defeat of the Federal troops; El Tigre mine
taken, etc.
Prince Auersperg was at the palace, too. He was try-
3IQ

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
ing to interest the Mexicans in a patent cartridge-belt,
just the sort of toy they all naturally love. I referred
him to the Minister of War, and turned to the "green
isle of Cuba" on my other hand.
Afterward, as I watched the vast concourse, I felt
a serrement de cceur. A something came out of the
crowd — a quality of uncertainty, destructiveness, force,
suffering, heroism, irresponsibility, persistence. The
words of Holy Saturday recurred to me, "Popule meus,
quod fecisti tu?" What have you done, — what wiU you
always do?
There is a something so irresistible and strong in
life here. They are simply ground out, these genera
tions, renewing themselves with terrible ease. The
begetting, the mother-pain, the life pUgrimage, the
death-pains — there is such an abundance of it aU, but
though just as tragic and mysterious, not as unlovely
as in the slums of great cities.
I am to press on to other things. What can one do,
save leave it to God? But I felt unspeakably sad as I
turned back into the great sala, where I saw the pale,
Ulumined face of the priest Hidalgo looking down upon
it all from its heavy gold frame. I stood by Mr. Lefaivre,
as we were waiting for the motor, and he said, "II
[Madero] veut gouverner avec des vivas." It is the situ
ation rather in a nutsheU.
I am sitting out here in the park, with only this scrap
of paper, which is so crisscrossed that you won't be
able to read it. But, oh! this heavenly, washed morn
ing — this freshness of light filtering through the trees!
Elsie and Elim are coming in sight, making such a
charming picture across the green spaces with the glint
ing sunlight — a magic world.
My "day" this afternoon, and then dinner at the
Embassy. The Schuylers return shortly. I have told
320

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Gabrielle to put out the white satin dress. Its days
are numbered, Hke mine.
September 17th.
Last night a great crowd at the station to say good-
by to Sefior Rivero, former governor of the Federal
District. He has now been sent as minister to Buenos
Aires, and goes via Spain — a rather zigzag route; neither
he nor his wife nor any of the six children nor accompany
ing servants were ever out of Mexico before.
Again in the park; shining, fresh, the band playing,
the children running over the grass with their butterfly-
nets; but I must go home, as I am having people for
lunch. September 18th.
Some one is playing the "Liebestod"; it floats in through
the open windows. It is now nine o'clock; my thoughts
are turning from this strange and gorgeous Indian
plateau to other climes — to things my spirit is famifiar
with. Madame Lefaivre is pressing me to go with her
on the Espagne. We would like to make the voyage
together. Played bridge this afternoon at her Legation with
Auersperg and De Soto. Mr. Lefaivre and Elsie S.
immersed in chess. It was raining the proverbial "cats
and dogs."
It is very pleasant seeing Auersperg — some one with
all those traditions, and yet who has been through the
American mUl. A German-speaking lunch yesterday —
Von H., Auersperg, Riedl, Rieioff. Auersperg regaled us
with a description of his first and only eating of an
iguana, a sort of cross between a lizard in looks and a
pig in taste, at some hacienda near Cordoba. He was
screechingly funny and sang:
"Nur die Jugend giebt uns Sckwung,
Nur die Liebe macht uns jung."
321

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
A far-off look replaced the twinkle at any reference
to Vienna. He is short and stout, but the God of wit
lives within, looking out of his brown eye, smifing about
his wide mouth, and he carries with him an atmosphere
of deep kindliness at all times. He departed from
Vienna in his earliest youth, came to New York, studied
medicine, got his diploma "all by himself," which shows
the pluck and ability which may be concealed under the
cover of the "first society" and "protection." Baroness
R. left last week.
I see that Demidoff has been appointed minister to
Greece, where he wiU find a Russian queen. Athens is
fortunate to have him.
Last night we had supper at the Gambrinus restaurant
with the Gustavo Maderos, the Darrs, and Colonel Edu
ardo Hay, this last a figure of the Madero revolution.
The place started out by being a German affair, but
no matter what nationality opens a hotel or restaurant
here, it ends by being Mexican. Gustavo Madero
repeated his famous remark that of a family of clever
men the only fool among them was chosen for Presi
dent. He has a sense of humor that does not care
much who or what it demoHshes, and a sort of prevision
about a joke.
He incidentally spoke of El Cocodrilo; when I
asked who the individual might be, they told me it was
Diaz! How terrible is the stuff of dreams when it is
spilt over a whole nation ! It sometimes seems as if the
entire government had eaten marihuana.1 Gustavo
Madero was elected Deputy in the last July elections,
and has the majority in the House where he "wants"
them — under his thumb.
He was amusing, but cynical (as he weU may be), about
the cry of "free land," saying that it would engulf, in
1 A Mexican herb inducing insanity.
322

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the fulfilment of its high purpose, any man in any party
starting out under its banner. "And the people won't
get the land," he added; "they never do, anywhere. It
isn't only in Mexico, as foreigners seem to befieve."
We caused a cloud to come over his face when we
asked if he were soon starting for Japan. He has been
delegated to thank the Mikado for participation in the
Diaz centenary celebration of 1910. You see how fast
Mexican events move, and how infinitely unrelated to
one another they sometimes are ! He said, with a rather
sharp look in his eye, that Japan was muy Ujos (very
far), and it certainly is far from these Mexican political
fields, apparently white for the harvest.1 September 21st.
Recently a band of Mexican regulars made the jour
ney from El Paso, via the United States, to some point
in Sonora. Several of the more up-to-date papers at
home are worrying for fear, unless our Monroe
Doctrine be more extensive and comfortable, the "house
guests " won't stay. There is one consoling aspect to the
Zapatista outrages, as far as Madero is concerned. They
always relate to his own people, and so can be dismissed.
But the outrages in the north are not so easily disposed
of where American and Mexican meum and tuum is
involved. A letter from  , dreading Hfe, fearing death. His
is a ravaged existence and "pain's furnace heat within
him quivers." I sent him the inclosed verses, which
came to me in the night. It is the simpficity of death,
after aU, that is its wonder.
1 Gustavo Madero was apprehended, as he was lunching in this res
taurant in the Avenida San Francisco in company with General Huerta,
February 18, 19 13, and was shot while attempting to escape early the
next morning. Vide A Diplomat's Wife in Mexico.
22 323

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
To 
Why should I fear to die?
When all I love do tread
Among the quickened dead?
If they, then why not I?
If their wills have reposed
From acts the sense hath known,
Why then myself alone
Affright and uncomposed?
Shall I not rather deem
If they give back no groan,
They lie not there alone,
In some cold, heavy dream?
But have returned home,
As one at eventide
By his swept fireside
Sitteth, but not alone.
So steadfast are the laws
That bind us each to each,
They scarcely give us pause
To weep that which they teach. Sunday evening.
A long day. N. is at the Embassy; the house is quiet,
except for water still dripping heavily from the roof.
My Mexican sands are sfipping, and this morning my
eyes looked their last on the so-famifiar beauty of the
plateau. Early Mr. de S. and Mr. S. and myself started
out from the city, down the shining Avenida San Fran
cisco, through the Zocalo, past the palace, through the
Calle de la Moneda, where the French troops entered in
1863, out past the San Lazaro station, on to what was
once the ancient Aztec causeway.
There we met three fishermen, clad only in small
breech-clouts, with long poles over their shoulders, on
324

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
each end of which were smaU nets full of Httle fish. They
were moving along sUently, swiftly, the sun gfistening on
their wet bodies, just as from the night of time dark
men have moved over that causeway.
We passed the sun-baked Penon Viejo, with its clump
of trees, its bits of cactus growing on its grassy sides, and
the old Church of Santa Marta on a farther hUl. On
one side the road is bounded by the white tequesquite
shores of Texcoco, with Httle piles of soda gathered up
at intervals. On the other are the green, sweet-water
shores of Lake Chalco, and the little lake of San Martu,
so near the Texcoco lake that there is just room between
for the railway and the motor road. At Los Reyes,
about eighteen kilometers out of town, we branched off
to Texcoco over a highway running through maize-
planted fields, under the great cypresses and eucalyptus-
trees of the Hacienda de Chapingo, along more corn
fields, tiU we bumped into Texcoco.
The usual Sunday market was in full blast around the
portales of the Plaza, and there was a coming and going
in the old church as I stepped in for a moment. Here
Cortes lay by his mother and his daughter for over one
hundred and fifty years. The little near-by chapel,
with its antique baptismal font, was buUt by the Con
queror himself, and shows how limited were the means
he had at his command when bivouacking in the "Athens
of Mexico." As I bid farewell to these scenes of his
romantic deeds and the long-time resting-place of his
venturesome heart, I bethought me of his watchword:
Por el rey infinitas tierras
Y por Dios infinitas almas.
We went on toward the beautiful Httle village of
Magdalena, entered through some wonderful plantings
325

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
of organos cactus, and at the entrance was the little
pink-and-blue pulque-shop, with its motto, so true of
all things earthly, "Paso d paso se va llegando."1
The sim shone through the cypress and eucalyptus
in the atrium of the lovely old church, and Indians,
in clean, white clothes were going to Mass. There was
an assortment of wide, flounced petticoats, quite strik
ing in these days of tight skirts. All was as I had first
seen it, except that some feet would never tread these
paths again, while others were beginning to toddle
about, and nature had blossomed and reblossomed,
and I myself was to pass. That was all.
As we went on we seemed, for a whUe, to lose the
volcanoes, but higher up on the great ridge they showed
themselves again in all their splendor and the air got
quite cold, communicating a sensation of excessive
Hghtness and purity. The hiUs around are bare of
vegetation. Mr. de S. said that the first conquerors wanted to
make the beautiful plateau resemble in aU things the
Castilian soil, which in so many places is arid and tree
less. However that may be, every authority the country
has ever had has taken fiteraUy "a whack" at the trees,
tUl these hills are bare and dry. Great stony, waterless
gorges separate the immense stretches of maguey — end
less, symmetricaUy planted fields, stretching to barren
hiUs, from which the French, during their occupation,
cut the last timber.
There is a feudal aspect to the old, high, wall-
inclosed haciendas, with their battlements and turret-
holes, always the beUry of a chapel showing above.
Everything that is needed for the Hfe of the Indian —
which isn't much — is contained within their waUs,
together with the much more costly and compficated
1 "Step by step one reaches the end."
326

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
machinery of the pulque industry. "Pulque fino de
Apam" is inscribed on each Httle blue-and-pink cantina.
The view, as we turned back, was enchanting, showing
us Mexico as it appeared to the conquerors when Cortes
first looked upon it and caUed it "La mds hermosa cosa
del mundo" ("The most beautiful thing in the world").
Beyond — far beyond the enchanting hills to the east,
is the drop into the land of coffee and pineapple and
banana and a thousand heavy scents unknown to this
thin air.
Gorgeous but ominous masses of clouds began to roU
up on the wide horizon, and shortly afterward over the
shining green plain moved a misty wall of fast-approach
ing rain, and there were deafening peals of thunder, with
great white flashes of Hghtning. In a moment, it
seemed, even before the chauffeur could button down
the curtains, we were deluged, and the road was a rush
of gray water, with a pelting of hail on the motor-top.
Some Indians, in the long, thatch-like capes of grass
that they wear as raincoats, passed us — the water
dripping from the bamboos on to their bare feet.
Then began a slipping and skidding down the hiU and
a search for the nearest shelter. The view toward the
great Apam plain was dark and splendid, with here and
there a heavy bar of light faffing on the fields of maguey.
At last we found ourselves within sight of the rather
sizable viUage of Calpulalpam, and decided to ask
shelter at the San Cristobal hacienda known to Mr.
de S., slipping down the hUl in a second cloudburst that
made the auto feel Hke a fly in a mUHace.
In inconceivable mud, not even an Indian in sight,
we went in through the great gate in the feudal-like
wall, with a church of baroque design built into it,
where we found ourselves in a roughly paved court
with an old fountain. The gate was fortunately near
327

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
the entrance to the dwelling of the administrador, a
Spaniard, as the administradores nearly always are.
He welcomed us warmly into la casa de ustedes,
appearing with El Pais in his hand. He pressed us to
stay for the comida. We deficately answered that we
had sandwiches, and only wanted shelter, but we al
lowed ourselves to be persuaded. His once-handsome
wife shortly appeared, dressed in a white sack and a
blue rebozo, accompanied by several boys and a really
beautiful girl of about eighteen, and we aU went into
the long, low-ceifinged dining-room. The administrador
and his spouse sat cozUy side by side, the chUdren near
them, and we three at the other end, together with a
friend of theirs — some local functionary. The room was
dusky, the windows curtained outside by sheets of water,
but the table was bountifully spread with such a typical
repast of well-to-do Mexicans of that class that you wUl
be interested in the menu.
We began with a sopa de frijoles,1 followed by plates of
hot tortillas, and a big dish of rice decorated with fried
eggs, sfices of fried bananas, and bacon. Mole de gua-
jolote2 was the pikce de resistance." I inclose the
receipt for it, which Madame Lefaivre sent me the
1 Bean soup.
2 Turkey stew with Chile gravy.
Receipt for the famous "mole de guajolote"
Pepper and salt Cinnamon Grains of sesame
Chile ancho \
Chile mulatoj Three kinds of peppers
Chile verde )
Anis Almonds One piece of chocolate
One piece of sugar Laurel Cloves
All ground separately on the metate, then ground together and put into
the saucepan, where the turkey already boiled is waiting, cut up in bouillon.
I don't know if mole must be made from the second joint of the
turkey leg, but my pieces always prove to be that when scraped. The
sauce is so thick that the anatomy is completely masked when one helps
oneself. 328

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
other day. Taking it from the phUosophie point of
view, it is the image of their politics; meU, melo, mole,
and the result very indigestible.
Pulque was served in lovely old engraved glass-jars,
and was very Hberally poured out to us in only slightly
smaUer glasses. It was the far-famed Pulque fino de
Apam, but seeing that we did no more than politely sip
in spite of aU the urging (if one could lose one's sense of
smeU, one could go ahead), the administrador disappeared,
and came back with a dusty bottle of Xeres of some
old mark.
There were various sweets on the table: cajetas de
Celaya,1 celebrated aU over Mexico, guava jeUy; and a
sweet looking somewhat like it, caUed membrillate, made
of quince-juice. The Httle local functionary seemed
somewhat annoyed to find us there. I suppose he
looked on that Sunday dinner as his special appear
ance, and strange people had come in and monopofized
the stage. His contribution to the conversation was
the complaint that when Americans come to Mexico
they continue to speak English. I pointed out that
most of us would give half our kingdom to possess in
return la lengua castellana, and that we did not all use
it all the time because we couldn't. At this point Mr.
S. humbly said he was speaking what he thought was
Spanish, and he answered, "You are an exception," but
he continued a somewhat muffled conversation with Mr.
de Soto.
The more I looked at the daughter the more I saw
she was of an extraordinary loveliness; not Spanish, not
Indian, but some third thing — was it Arab? — showing
distinctly through these two. She looked at us as if we
kept the keys of the gate of heaven, i.e., escape from the
hacienda. The only door open to her, however, is mar-
1 Boxes of sweets from Celaya,
339

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
riage, and that wUl lead to a stone waU, as far as horizon
is concerned.
She said she longed to see Mexico City, if only once,
and asked me about the tight skirts — hers were long and
flowing. Enfin, she is ready for Hfe, but the functionary
seemed to have a proprietary eye on her.
They were all as nice and pleasant as possible, and so
hospitable. After lunch we made the rounds of the
hacienda buUdings. The family to whom the vast estate
belongs must have been absent not only one, but two gen
erations — from the look of the rooms. It was the quintes
sence of "absentee landlordship."
We went through what seemed acres of corridors and
half-dismantled rooms, with an occasional piece of good
furniture or an old, faded brocade curtain. The fibrary
had rows upon rows of yeUowing books and countless
volumes of accounts of bygone administradores of the
estate, the same thing that one finds pUed up in every
bookshop in Mexico City. In the days before it was
easy to get away, some one, however, had loved the
classics, for one case was fuU of richly bound Latin
books. There were numberless fascinating Httle courtyards.
One had a cypress-tree pressed against an oval, barred
window; another, only half -inclosed, had a fig-tree
growing higher than the top, and out beyond was the
great Apam plain, Hght and cloud rapidly passing over
the green, maguey-planted stretches. There was some
thing sad and lovely about it aU, and Guadalupe seemed
a sort of "Mariana in the moated grange." There were
vast granaries, too; wheat growing easUy at this alti
tude, in addition to the pulque.
We went at last into the Httle chapel where there
were some old, carved prie-Dieu, covered with faded
brocade, and the altar was a charming example of
330

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
Churrigueresque, with smaU, gUded saints in elabo
rately carved and gfided niches, surrounding a large,
central figure of Saint Christopher. It was aU, some
how, melancholy-inducing, and made us remember that
the "whole round world is but a sepulchre," as Neza
hualcoyotl put it.
We took a photograph of Guadalupe, standing on a
Httle outer stairway leading to the entresol, where the
family sleep and the girl dreams her dreams. I was only
sorry some Prince Charming had not been with us. She
had a distinctly yearning expression as we drove away
into the great world; there was, probably, far back,
some venturesome blood, but she wiU doubtless get the
functionary.
September 2gth.
Last night, one of Von Hintze's big dinners. He has
been such a good friend from the first, and we have been
a part of aU his dinners, which have been many. Paso
d paso se va llegando, and this is Hkely to be the last.
I felt as if I were back in Vienna, as Auersperg sat on
one side of me and Riedl took me out. A handsome
Captain Bazaine was also there. That name found in
Mexico awakens historical thoughts, and now that I am
to leave it all, perhaps forever, the least tap on memory
and a thousand things spring into consciousness.
Mrs. Stronge presided; Hohler was there, the Hugo
Scherers, Mr. Carlos de Landa, Mr. Hewitt, the Von
HiUers, and we played bridge till late. Conditions are
going from bad to worse here, and I feel an increasing
sadness at leaving aU this touching, appealing beauty
of Mexico to the powers of darkness, or if not of dark
ness, of such uncertainty that evil only can come.
The "Apostle" has become the mono de Coahuila.
The favor of republics is more short-lived than that of
princes. How true a word La Rochefoucauld spoke when
33i

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
he said, "On loue et on bldme la plupart des gens parce que
c'est la mode de les louer ou de les bldmer."
Gustavo, ojo parado, would perhaps like to be Presi
dent, and feels himself superior in intelligence and wiU
to his brother, who is, as a fact, decidedly under his
dominion. If "Panchito" did not feel that he is upheld by the
world of spirits, and I should add by a passionate, reso
lute consort, he might abdicate; everything here is
possible except peace, and it is stiU "up" to the heavens
to perform miracles and so relieve the Mexicans them
selves of the tedium of installing a stable government.

XXVIII
Good-by to Mexico, and a special farewell to Madame Madero — Vera
Cruz — Mexico in perspective October ist.
WE take the Mexico of the Ward Line on the ioth.
So sorry not to be going with Madame Lefaivre
straight to France, but we think it will be well to wrap
the Stars and Stripes about us for a space.
This is only a word. I sit among open boxes in what
wUl never again be my home, ' ' things I have known and
loved awhUe." Through it runs my Mexican Gtape, my
"rosary of the road." October 3d.
Madame Lefaivre and I have each received diplomas
and testimonials from the Red Cross, and a very pofite
note from Madame de Palomo. It was a curious and
salutary experience in things human.
The ambassador sent N. a really beautiful letter of
appreciation. He has a quite perfect epistolary turn —
finished off by a very chic signature, and has been all
that a chief could be during the long, strange Mexican
months, whUe Mrs. WUson has been the kindest, most
considerate of friends. October 5th.
This morning I went up to Chapultepec to say good-
by to Madame Madero. As I drove up the winding
way in the white morning the flowers were shining
softly along the embankments, the trees were feathery,
unsubstantial, the birds singing "like to burst their lit-
333

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
tie throats." It might have been the road to Paradise
instead of to the abode of care.
I went in through the great iron gate, the guard
saluting, across the flat, stone terrace where some
cadets were at drill, and got out at the glass doors
leading up to the big stairway. The President was
standing there as I drove up, his auto waiting to take
him to the palace to a Cabinet meeting. I thought he
looked slightly — very slightly — troubled, though I had a
feeling that his head was still in the morning clouds of
the dazzling day. He wished me a bon voyage and prompt
retour and drove away. Our personal relations with
them both have always been most friendly. 1
I imagine there has been little or no change in his
psychology along the lines of practical statecraft. His
true habitat is the world of fancy, where he feels himself
protected and led on by benign powers as definitely as
was Tobias by the angel. A state of mind like that can
be very compelling, and he may witness what the unkind
say is his pet ambition — his own apotheosis.
The dim progression of Mexican events seems to have
left his spirits untouched, though his fleshly being must
be a mass of black-and-blue spots from the hard facts
he bumps into. "One man with a dream at pleasure,"
but I felt Hke leaving him a pocket edition of Le Prince.
I thought Madame Madero showed the strain of that
cfimb from obscurity and prison up the via triumphalis
to the presidential peaks. The flood of morning Hght,
as we sat on the terrace, did not spare her worn and
anxious face. I have an idea that she is very practical,
but it is not her practicality, but her husband's dreams,
1 Francisco I. Madero and Jose* Maria Pino Suarez were killed when
being transferred from the palace to the Penitenciaria on the night of
Saturday, February 22, 1913. Vide page 215, A Diplomat's Wife in
Mexico. — E. O'S. 334

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
that brought them to Chapultepec. It's a situation to
discourage common sense.
She was, as always, courteous and friendly, but a
puzzled look was on her face, and I felt that there were
questions that she would have liked to put to me, that
the circumstances forbade. We spoke of the work she
is just now especiaUy interested in, for the amelioration
of the Mexican woman's lot — the organizing of the lace
and embroidery industry, d la Queen Elena, in Italy,
several years ago. There is a really lovely product here,
the drawn linen work — deshilados, it is caUed — introduced
by the Spaniards and practised through generations in
cloisters and religious schools.
She told me that in Puerto Rico one hundred thousand
women had been organized, and she wanted to do the
same here, asking me if I could not interest people in
New York in the industry.
I felt how fraU her body, but how determined her wUl
as we embraced in the dazzling morning. About us
was the perfume of the rare and lovely shrubs of the
patio, the splash of the fountain, the singing of birds,
the lustrous hUls, the shining volcanoes; that crystal
air enfolded us, closer than human touch, but beneath
us was the restless city and the shifting will of the
Mexican people. On board the Mexico in Vera Cruz Harbor.
October ioth.
We got down last night over the International; so
many friendly faces at the station — une belle gare —
reminding me of the unforgetable going away from
Copenhagen. The Minister for Foreign Affairs, and
the Chef du Protocole, nearly all the colleagues, Mr.
and Mrs. Wilson, Aunt Laura, and many American
friends were there. 335

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
The train departed at last without the slightest warn
ing, but, the hour being at hand, we were standing near
the steps, and as it quite slyly began to move out I
was pushed into it by friendly hands with my load of
flowers. Various other passengers had only time to
scramble into the baggage and rear cars; and so,
without any sound except those of friendly adieux,
we slipped out of the station into the starfit vaUey,
toward the hills that hold the splendors of this Indian
world. I had a feeling as of some one who leaves treasure
behind, and the thought that my eyes wUl probably
never again rest on the beauty of Mexico gives me a
clutching at the heart. "Heureux ceux qui n'ont pas vu
lafuntee de la fete de .'Stranger et qui ne se sont assis
qu'aux festins de leurs pires."
It is seventeen months since we landed, but changing
governments have not changed Mexico.
On arriving, at 7.30, we repaired to the Arcades of the
Hotel Difigencias of somewhat branded reputation, in
one of the little rickety cabs. If its back flap is loose,
you have a lovely breeze. If not, you feel as if you
were in a "hot country" not of earth.
I asked for tea, but when it was poured out I decided
'twere better to do in Vera Cruz as the Veracruzanos
do, and ordered, as a farewell tribute, "chocolate Mexi
eano," which, though it brought my own temperature
up to the boUing-point, was very good.
The dissolving sensation is not unpleasant after hav
ing one's nerves screwed up to the last turn by aU those
"high" months. Something thick and stiff, in very
small cups, being served on an adjacent table to a couple
of indigenes, was "chocolate espanol."
Afterward I went across the palm-planted Plaza,
that I had only seen in the dim Hght of my arrival,
336

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
to the old cathedral — wind-swept, sun-enveloped, rain-
deluged, the patine of centuries making it lovely be
yond description, with its flying buttresses and quaint
gargoyles, and its pink belfry, in which swing old,
green-bronze bells.
Inside, the modern Veracruzanos have let them
selves "go" as regards art. Cheap stained-glass win
dows, "made in Germany," and realistic portrayals of
saints in agony, one more appalling than the other, en
cumber the chapels, and, I hate to record it, only paper
and tinsel flowers were on the altars. But I turned my
thoughts to One who walked upon the waters, and
prayed for a safe voyage.
They teU me there are fish as beautiful as flowers to
be seen in the market, but instead of continuing the
investigation of Vera Cruz in the garish Hght of its
October day we went back to the ship. On our way
we met an Oxford friend of N.'s, a young Englishman,
perfectly turned out in spotless white, who might have
been caUed suddenly before the viceroy (I find myself
getting a little wUd) without the sfightest change in his
raiment. He hadn't spoken with one of "his kind" for
weeks, and was not expecting any one. England's true
conquest of the world, it seems to me, identity, habits,
customs, unchanged by that most potent of all alchemies
— the tropics.
The German and Russian ministers take the Mexico
as far as Progreso, whence they depart on some
sort of hunting expedition, and promise aigrettes and
similar vanities. We have aU been sitting on the breezy
side of the boat, sipping lemonade, talking of Mexico in
perspective and "letting him who will be wise." Vera
Cruz is a memory of color, green and pink and white,
mercUess sun, refreshing breeze, and the Veracruzanos,
of all shades and origins, coming and going, carrying on
337

DIPLOMATIC DAYS
their heads the abundances of earth and sea. I post
this in Havana.
October 12th.
Last night, in the dim prow, some Indians were chant
ing in mournful, wailing voices, a half-sensuous, half-
imploring air of sad peoples. As it floated toward me in
the soft, thick darkness it possessed me with its melan
choly — but I must trim my lamp for other nights.

THE END