THE DOWNFALL OF DIAZ
MEXICO PLUNGES INTO REVOLUTION
A.D. 1911
MRS. E.A. TWEEDIE
DOLORES BUTTERFIELD
On May 25, 1911, Porfirio Diaz resigned the Presidency of Mexico, under the compulsion of a revolution headed by Francisco Madero. This act ended an era, the Diaz era, in Mexican history. Diaz had been President for over thirty years. He had found Mexico an impoverished barbarism; he raised it to be a wealthy and at least outwardly civilized state. Some able critics, even among Europeans, had declared that Diaz, "the grand old man," was the greatest leader of the past century. All Mexicans honored him. But unfortunately for his fame he grew too old: he outlived his wisdom and his power.
Of the downfall of such a man there must naturally be conflicting views. We give here the story from the pathetic Diaz side by a well-known English writer upon Mexico, Mrs. Tweedie. Then we give the warm picture of Madero's heroic struggle against tyranny, as it appeared to Dolores Butterfield, a young lady brought up in Mexico, but driven thence by the more recent revolution which resulted in Madero's death.
MRS. E. A. TWEEDIE
Diaz has been hurled from power in his eighty-first year! The rising against him in Mexico has the character of a national revolutionary movement, the aims of which, perhaps, Madero himself has not clearly understood. One thing the nation wanted apparently was the stamping out of what the party considered political immorality, fostered and abetted by the acts of what they called the grupo cientifico, or grafters, and by the policy of the Minister of Finance, Limantour, in particular. Therefore, when Madero stood up as the chieftain of the revolution, inscribing on his banner the redress of this grievance, with some Utopias, the people followed him without stopping to measure his capabilities. His promises were enough.
It is one of the saddest episodes in the history of great rulers, and at the same time one of the most important in the history of a country. Mexico, which has pushed so brilliantly ahead in finance, industry, and agriculture, has still lagged behind in political development. The man who made a great nation out of half-breeds and chaos was so sure of his own position, his own strength, and I may say his own motives, that he did not encourage antagonism at the polls, and "free voting" remained a name only.
A German author has said that all rulers become obsessed with the passion of rule. They lose their balance, clearness of sight, judgment, and only desire to rule, rule, rule! He was able to quote many examples. I thought of him and his theory when following, as closely as one is able to do six thousand miles away, the recent course of events in Mexico. Would he in a new edition add General Diaz to his list?
Diaz has reached a great age. On the 15th September, 1910, he celebrated his eightieth birthday. He has ruled Mexico, with one brief interval of four years, since 1876. For thirty-five years, therefore, with one short break, the country has known no other President; and Madero, who has laid him low, was a man more or less put into office by Diaz himself. A new generation of Mexicans has grown up under the rule of Diaz. Time after time he has been reelected with unanimity, no other candidate being nominated—nor even suggested. Is it to be wondered at that, by the time his seventh term expired in 1910, he should have at last come to regard himself as indispensable?
That he was so persuaded permits of no doubt. "He would remain in office so long as he thought Mexico required his services," he said in the course of the first abortive negotiations for peace—before the capture of the town of Juarez by the insurrectionists, and the surrender of the Republican troops under General Navarro took the actual settlement out of his hand.
It was a fatal mistake, and it has shrouded in deep gloom the close of a career of unexampled brilliancy, both in war and statesmanship. The Spanish-American Republics have produced no man who will compare with Porfirio Diaz. Simon Bolivar for years fought the decaying power of Spain, and to him what are now the Republics of Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Bolivia, and Peru owe their liberation. But Diaz has been more than a soldier, and his great achievement in the redemption of modern Mexico from bankruptcy and general decay completely overshadows his successes in the field during the ceaseless struggles of his earlier years.
Had he retired in 1910 he would have done so with honor, and every hostile voice in Mexico would have been stilled. All would have been forgotten in remembrance of the immense debt that his country owed him. He would have stood out as the great historic figure of a glorious era in the national annals. It was the first time he had broken his word with the people. Staying too long, he has been driven from office by a movement of ideas, the strength of which it is evident that he never realized until too late, and by a rebellion that in the days of his vigorous autocracy he would have stamped out with his heel.
It is a sad picture to look on, especially when I turn to that other one of the simple palace-home in Mexico City, with the fine old warrior, with dilating nostrils like a horse at the covert side, his face aglow, his eyes flashing as he told me of bygone battles, escapes from imprisonment and death, and deeds of wild adventure and romance. These inspiriting recollections he freely gave me for the "authentic biography" which he had given me permission to write. Up to that time he had refused that favor to every one; and in spite of his grateful recognition of the "honesty and veracity" of the volume I had written about his country five years before, he was long in giving his consent. "I have only done what I thought right," he said, "and it is my country and my ministers who have really made Mexico what she is." In the days of his strength, corruption was unknown in his country, and even now no finger can point at him. He retires a poor man, to live on his wife's little fortune. Diaz had the right to be egotistical, but he was modesty itself.
Yet he had risen from a barefoot lad of humble birth and little education to the dictatorship of one of the most turbulent states in the world, and this by powers of statesmanship for which, owing to want of opportunity, he had shown no aptitude before he reached middle life. Before that he seemed but a good soldier, true as steel, brave, hardy, resourceful in the field, and nothing more. It was not until he was actually President, when nearing fifty, that his gifts for government asserted themselves. Such late developments are rare, although Cromwell was forty before he made any mark. Chatham, again, was fifty before he was heard outside his own circle, and yet a few years, barely months, later, the world was at his feet.
It is rather the cry nowadays that men's best work is done before forty; and even their good work no later than sixty; but among endless exceptions General Diaz must take high rank.
His real career began at forty-six. Up to that time he had been an officer in a somewhat disorganized army, and his ambition at the outset never soared beyond a colonelcy.
He was nearly fifty when he entered Mexico City at the head of a revolutionary force. Romance and adventure were behind him, although personal peril still dogged his steps. He had to forget that he was a soldier, and to be born again as leader and politician, a maker and not a destroyer. In that capacity he had absolutely no experience of public affairs, but such as he had gained in a smaller way in early years spent in Oaxaca. Yet Diaz became a ruler, and a diplomat, and assumed the courtly manners of a prince.
Paradoxical as it may seem, his overthrow is the result of a revolution mainly pacific in its nature, and in substance a revolt of public feeling against abuses that have become stereotyped in the system of government by the too long domination of one masterful will. The military rising was but its head, spitting fire. Behind was an immense body of opinion, in favor of effecting the retirement of the President by peaceful means, and with all honor to one who had served his country well.
In 1908 General Diaz had stated frankly, in an interview granted to an American journalist, that he was enjoying his last term of office, and at its expiration would spend his remaining years in private life. There is no reason to doubt that this assurance represented his settled intention. The announcement was extensively published in the Mexican Press, and was never contradicted by the President himself. Then rumors gained currency that Diaz was not unprepared to accept nomination for the Presidency for an eighth term. The statement was at first discredited, then repeated without contradiction in a manner that could hardly have failed to excite alarm. At length came the fatal announcement that the President would stand again.
Hardly had the bell of Independence ceased ringing out in joyous clang on September 15, 1910, in celebration of free Mexico's centenary, hardly had the gorgeous fêtes for the President's birthday or the homage paid him by the whole world run their course, when the spark of discontent became a blaze. He had mistaken the respect and regard of his people for an invitation to remain in office.
By the time the Presidential election approached, signs of agitation had increased. A political party rose in direct hostility, not so much to General Diaz himself or Limantour, as to the Vice-President, who, as next in the succession, in the event of the demise of the President, would have been able to rivet the autocracy on the country.
Corral was the Vice-President. What little I saw of him I liked; but then he had hardly taken up the reins of power. He did not make himself popular; in fact, a large part of the country hated and distrusted him. But for that, probably nothing would have been heard of the troubles which ensued. As the party anxious for the introduction of new blood into the Government increased in vigor, the people showed themselves more and more determined to get rid of Corral. They wanted a younger man than Diaz in the President's chair: they wanted, above all, the prospect of a better successor.
But the official group whose interests depended on the maintenance of the Diaz régime was, for the moment, too powerful, and it succeeded in inducing the President to accept reelection.
To the general hatred of this group on the part of the nation, Madero owed his success. He was almost unknown, but the malcontents were determined to act, and to act at once, and they could not afford to pick and choose for a leader. As a proof that the country thought less of the democratic principles invoked than of the destruction of the official "cientificos," may be cited the fact that it at first placed all its trust and confidence in General Reyes, who is just as despotic and autocratic as General Diaz, but has at the same time, to them, a redeeming quality—his avowed opposition to the gang. Reyes refused to head the insurrection, and it was then Madero or nobody.
In the spring of 1910 Francis I. Madero came to the front. He was a man of education, of fortune, of courage, and a lawyer by profession. He had written a book entitled the Presidential Succession, and although without experience in the management of State affairs, he had shown that he had the courage of his convictions. He consented to stand against Diaz in a contest for the Presidency of the Republic.
The malcontents had found their leader. Madero not only accepted nomination, but began an active campaign, making speeches against the Diaz administration, denouncing abuses, more especially the retention of office by the Vice-President and the tactics of Limantour, and showing the people that as General Diaz was then eighty years of age, and his new term would not expire until 1916, Corral would almost certainly succeed to the inheritance of the Diaz regime.
Energetic, courageous, and outspoken, Madero had full command of the phraseology of the demagog. His only shortcoming in the eyes of his own party was that he had not been persecuted by the Government. The officials, alas, soon supplied this deficiency. A few days before the Presidential election in July, 1910, when making a speech in Monterey, Madero was arrested as a disturber of the peace and thrown into prison, where he was kept until the close of the poll.
The election resulted, as usual, in a triumphant majority for General Diaz, though votes were recorded, even in the capital itself, for the anti-reelectionist leader.
As soon as opportunity offered, Madero escaped to the United States, and from that vantage-ground kept up a correspondence with his friends and partizans. Though the election had been held in July, the inauguration of the President did not take place until December, 1910. A fortnight before that date, a conspiracy, at which Madero probably connived, was discovered in Puebla. The first victim was the Chief of the Police at Puebla. He was shot dead by a woman who at his knock had opened the door of a house wherein the revolutionists were holding a meeting. The revolution had begun. Risings took place in different parts of the Republic, but were quickly quelled, with the exception of one in the State of Chihuahua, where the rebels had a special grievance against the all-powerful family of the great landowner, General Terrazas. These large landed proprietors are a subject of hatred to the new Socialist party.
Trouble followed trouble in the north, which, be it remembered, runs to a distance of over a thousand miles from Mexico City itself. But nothing very serious occurred, until suddenly, in the early weeks of 1911, President Taft mobilized a force of 20,000 American troops to watch the Mexican frontier. From that time events developed rapidly till the end of the Diaz regime in May. One thing became clear, that the revolution was rapidly making its way to victory, and that Diaz, prostrate with an agonizing disease, an abscess of the jaw, was in no condition to rally his disheartened followers in person. He saved his honor, as the phrase goes, by a declaration that he would not retire from office until peace was declared, and he kept his word. He was too ill to leave his simple home in one of the chief streets of the city, where he lived less ostentatiously than many of his fellow citizens, but this did not prevent the mob from firing upon his home. On the afternoon of May 25, 1911, he resigned, and Señor De La Barra, formerly Minister at Washington, became provisional President until the next election, fixed for October.
Madero was the hero of the hour. He entered Mexico City in triumphal procession, June 7, 1911. His entrance was preceded by the most severe earthquake the capital had known in years. Many buildings were wrecked and some hundreds of people killed. An arch of the National Palace fell, one beneath which Diaz had often passed.
Three days after signing his abdication, General Diaz was well enough to leave Mexico City. In the early hours of the morning three trains drew up filled with his own solders and friends, in the middle one of which the ex-President, his wife, the clever and beautiful Carmelita, Colonel Porfirio Diaz, his son, with his young wife, several children, and their ten-days-old baby, were seated. Along the route the train came upon a force of seven hundred rebels. A sharp encounter ensued. The revolutionists left thirty dead upon the field; the escort, which numbered but three hundred, lost only three men. The old fighting spirit returned to the old lion, and, unarmed, the ex-President descended from his car and took part in the engagement. He entered Mexico City fighting, and he has left her shores with bullets ringing in the air. This was but the second time that Diaz had left the land of his birth.
His work is now imperishable. Mexicans, I am sure, will regret the pitiful circumstances under which his fall has come about, and he will live long in the hearts of his countrymen. Nothing can alter the fact that he made modern Mexico. It was no easy task; the Mexicans are a cross-breed of Spaniards and countless Indian tribes. There are still half a million Aztecs. Diaz has given this strange mixed race education, and a high order of education for such a people; he has brought his country to a financial position in which the Government can, or could, borrow all the money it wanted at four per cent. Railways intersect the land in every direction. The largest financial interests are American, the next in importance are British. Except Germany, no other foreign country has much capital invested in Mexico.
Thus closes one of the most wild and romantic episodes of the world's history—a peasant boy who became a soldier, a general who became a President—a President who became a great autocrat, who raised a country from obscurity to greatness, and was finally driven from power by the very people he had educated, and to whom he had brought vast blessings.
The great Diaz in his eighty-first year has passed from power, the power he used so well. Verily a moving spectacle from first to last.
DOLORES BUTTERFIELD[1]
[Footnote 1: Reproduced by permission from the North American Review.]
In contemplating the present situation in Mexico there is a tendency of late to deplore the Madero revolution and the overthrow of Diaz, and to overlook the fact that the Diaz regime itself not only made and forced, by its political abuses, the revolution that overthrew it, but, by its economic abuses, prepared the country for the anarchy now rife in it; and also that it is the very same ring of men who surrounded Diaz and finally rendered his rule unbearable who are now financing and fomenting the present rebellion against a Government not in sympathy with them nor subservient to their interests.
Porfirio Diaz attained the presidency of Mexico thirty-five years ago by overthrowing Lerdo de Tejada. He put an end to brigandage, which was at that time wide-spread. Such bandits as he could not buy he exterminated. His political opponents he also bought or exterminated, so that without the slightest disturbance to the national peace he could be unanimously reelected whenever his term expired. Out of bankruptcy he established credit; he put up schools; he invited foreign capital into his country and made it possible for foreign capital to go in; and so he gradually built up a material progress which won him the name of "nation-builder." There were railroads and telegraphs; the cities were graced with beautiful edifices, with theaters and parks, with electricity and asphalt. There was the appearance of a civilization and progress, which, considering the time in which it was compassed, was indeed marvelous.
But all this was only a shell and a semblance. The economic condition of the Mexican lower classes was not touched—the process of "nation-building" seemed not to include them. In the shadow of a modern civilization stalked poverty and ignorance worthy of the Middle Ages. And it was notorious that in the capital city itself, under the very eyes of the central Government, was where the very worst conditions and the most glaring extremes of poverty and wealth were to be seen. On the one hand, splendid paseos lined with magnificent palaces, where, in their automobiles, the pleasure-seeking women of the rich displayed their raiment worth thousands of dollars; and, on the other, streets filled with beggars, their clothes literally dropping off them in filthy rags, reeking with the typhus which for years has been endemic in the City of Mexico.
Let it be said to Diaz's credit that he did try, in a measure, at first to better those conditions. Hence the public schools which, though inadequate for the scattered rural population, have accomplished much in the cities. He also attempted years ago a division of the lands, but dropped it when he saw that the great landowners were stronger than he and that to persist might cost him the Presidency.
It was natural and inevitable that a Government in which there was never any change or movement should stagnate and become corrupt. Porfirio Diaz was not a President, but, in all save the name, an absolute monarch, and inevitably there formed about his throne a cordon of men as unpatriotic and self-interested as he may have been patriotic and disinterested—as to a great extent he undeniably was. These men were the Cientificos.
The term is, of course, not their own. It was applied to them by the Anti-reelectionists, meaning that they were scientific grafters and exploiters. The full-fledged Cientifico was at once a tremendous landholder and high government official. To illustrate, the land of the State of Chihuahua is almost entirely owned by the Terrazas family. In the days of Diaz, Don Luis Terrazas was always the governor, being further reenforced by his relative, Enrique C. Creel, high in the Diaz ministry. In Sonora the land was held by Ramon Corral, Luis Torres, and Rafael Izabal. These three gentlemen, who were called "The Trinity," used to rotate in the government of the state until Corral was made vice-president, when Torres and Izabal took turn about until the death of the latter shortly before the Madero revolution. In every state there was either one perpetual governor or a combine of them.
Thus in each state a small group of men were the absolute masters politically, economically, and industrially. They made and unmade the laws at their pleasure. For instance, Terrazas imposed a prohibitory tax upon cattle which forced the small owners to dispose of their stock, which he, being the only purchaser, bought at his own price, after which he repealed the law. They adjusted taxation to suit themselves, assessing their own huge estates at figures nothing short of ridiculous, while levying heavily upon the small farmer, and especially upon enterprise and improvements. They practised peonage, though peonage is contrary to the Constitution of the Republic, to the Federal laws, and, in many cases, to the laws of the separate states as well. They drew public salaries for perverting the government to their private benefit and enrichment; and as the dictator grew older and surrendered to his satellites more and more of his once absolute power, the conditions became so intolerable, and the tyranny and greed of the Cientificos so shameless and unbridled (infinitely more so in the southern than in the northern states), that it would have been a reversal of the history of the world if there had been no revolution.
In 1910 the aged Diaz declared his intention of resigning. Perhaps he even intended to keep that promise when he made it; but if so, the Cientificos, who knew that his prestige and the love of the nation for him were their only shield, induced him to think better of it. The strongest of the opposing parties was the Anti-reelectionist party. It embodied the best elements and the best ideals of the country and from the first was the one of which the Diaz regime was most afraid.
Now by its very name this party was pledged to no reelection, and yet it so far compromised with the regime as to nominate Diaz for President, only repudiating Corral, who was odious to the entire nation. However, the Cientificos saw that this was to be the entering wedge, and they promptly prepared to crush the new political faction. Anti-reelectionists were arrested right and left; their newspapers were suppressed, the presses wrecked, and the editors thrown into prison. But the party's blood was up. It did not dissolve. It did not nominate Corral. Instead it struck Porfirio Diaz's name from its ticket and tendered to Francisco Madero, Jr., not the vice-presidential but the presidential nomination. The bare fact that he accepted it speaks volumes for his courage.
Francisco Madero was born October 4, 1873. He was educated from childhood in the United States and Europe; and upon returning to his country, imbued with the advanced ideas of the most broad-minded men of the most enlightened countries in the world, it was perhaps only natural that he should resent the conditions which he saw in his own country. The Madero family owns great tracts of land in Coahuila, besides properties in other states. Madero introduced modern methods and modern machinery in the management of his estates. Already a millionaire, he made more millions, at the same time doing much toward the betterment of conditions for his own immediate dependents among the lower class.
Madero first attracted attention by writing The Presidential Succession in 1910. The Cientifico clique laughed at him as a visionary. Suddenly they awoke to the fact that his book, with its calm, dispassionate logic and democratic tone, was doing them more harm than a thousand soldiers, and they suppressed its publication. It was the writing of this book that led to Madero's nomination for President by the Anti-reelectionist party when every one else had failed it.
Madero took the attitude that he was a presidential candidate in a free republic and began what he called his democratic campaign. He went from city to city, delivering speeches and laying his platform before the people. He was called "the apostle of democracy," and the multitudes followed him like an apostle indeed. But he did not carry out his democratic campaign without sacrifice and risk. When he passed through Hermosillo, Sonora, the hotel-keepers closed their-doors to him. Torres, feudal lord of the state, had given out the necessary hint and Madero, for all his millions, could find no apartments for himself and his wife until a Spaniard—relying upon the fact of being a foreigner— offered them lodgings, "not wishing to lend himself to so ignoble an intrigue." This was but one city of many. In all places he had the most tremendous difficulty in renting halls for his addresses. Frequently he was reduced to speaking in tumble-down sheds or mule-yards or vacant lots, the local authorities often hiring rowdies to create disturbances at his meetings. He was ridiculed, he was threatened, he was persecuted, but he went on unafraid.
Just before and during the elections every known Maderista, from Madero down, was arrested on charges of "sedition." Things came to such a pass that in the city where I lived some sixty prominent Maderistas were arrested at two o'clock one morning without warrants and on no charge, it being noteworthy that the men arrested were almost without exception some of the best and most honorable men in the state. And this happened at the same hour of the same day in every city in Mexico. But in spite of the fact that many votes were lost to Madero through intimidation or actual imprisonment, so strong a vote was registered for the Madero electors that fraud was resorted to to cover his gains. The result of the elections was that Diaz and Corral were unanimously reelected—the former for his eighth term and the latter for his second.
The Anti-reelectionists then appealed to Congress and the Senate to annul the elections, alleging fraud and intimidation. Without the slightest pretense of considering or investigating these charges Congress and Senate—long the mouthpieces of Cientificismo—ratified the elections as just and legal. Every peaceful measure to bring about justice in the elections and insure the free expression of the nation's will was now exhausted. The only recourse left to the people by the Cientifico regime was war. Their leader at the polls became their leader in the preparations for that war.
In the midst of this riot of tyranny, while the nation yet seethed with indignation at the outrageous electoral farce imposed upon it, the first Centennial of Mexican independence was being celebrated before the foreign diplomats with unprecedented pomp and display. The Anti-reelectionists declared that Liberty was dead and that instead of celebrating they were going to don deep mourning. They were thus a mark for all manner of persecutions from petty annoyances to the most unprovoked armed attacks. Some students were fired upon by troops while they were carrying wreaths to the monument of the boy heroes of Chapultepec; a young lawyer was arrested for making a speech beneath the statue of Juarez; and in Tlaxcala a procession of unarmed working men was fired upon and ridden down by rurales, several men and a woman being killed. Consecrating hypocritical hymns to liberty that did not exist and heaping with wreaths the tombs and monuments of the heroes of Mexico, while violating all the ideals for which those heroes died, drunk with the power they had wielded so long, the Cientificos pressed blindly on, following the path that Privilege has taken since the beginning of history and which has only one end.
These are some of the causes and circumstances that made the revolution of 1910-11—not all of them, for there must be remembered in addition the Yaqui slave traffic, the contract-labor system of the great southern haciendas, and a dozen other iniquities, greater and lesser, which also contributed to precipitating the revolt. It was fortunate that that revolt was captained by a man of Francisco Madero's type—a man who knew how to win the world's sympathy for his cause and how to make his subordinates merit that sympathy by their observance of the rules of civilized warfare.
The actual armed contention of the Madero revolution was singularly brief, culminating in the capture of Ciudad Juarez, which was followed by the resignation of Diaz and Corral. There can be no doubt that the dictatorship could have held together for a considerable time longer and that Diaz surrendered before he actually had to. But he could probably see by this time that it was inevitable in any case, and he was willing to sacrifice his personal pride and ambition sooner than necessary to avoid bloodshed in Mexico if he could. And also he had it upon his conscience, and it was brought home to him by the mobs outside his palace, that he was not the constitutional President of Mexico, but the tool of the betrayers of her Constitution. That he had been shamelessly deceived and played upon by the impassable cordon of Cientificos about him is easy to judge. His message of resignation was one to touch any heart, combining pathos with absolute dignity.
The resignation of Diaz and Corral was taken by many to signify the complete surrender of the old régime and the triumph of the revolution. Indeed, for the moment it so appeared. But although the Cientificos were ousted from direct political control, their wealth and power and the tremendous machinery of their domination were still to be contended with before the revolution could follow up its political success with the economic reforms which were its real object.
Madero had pledged himself primarily to the division of the lands. He realized that only by the abolition of the landed aristocracy, and an equitable distribution among moderate holders for active development of the huge estates, held idle in great part or worked by peons, could the progress and prosperity of the nation be put upon a solid basis. He knew exactly what the remedy was and, though a landed aristocrat himself by birth and inheritance, was not afraid of it.
As soon as he was elected to the presidency he set a committee of competent, accredited engineers to work appraising property values in the different states, and great tracts of hundreds of thousands and millions of acres, previously assessed at half as many thousands as they were worth millions, were revalued and reassessed at their true inherent value. The haciendados raised a frightful cry. They tried threats, intrigue, and bribery. It was useless; the revaluation went on. The new administration reclaimed as national property all that it could of the terrenos baldios, or public lands, which under Diaz had been rapidly merging into the great estates. It established a government bank for the purpose of making loans on easy terms, and thus assisting the poor to take up and work these public lands in small parcels. Even before becoming President, Madero had advised the working men to organize and demand a living wage, which they did. He attacked the lotteries, the bull-fights, the terrible pulque trust, the unbridled traffic of which, more than any other one factor, has contributed to the degradation of the lower classes. He began to extend the public-school system.
From the first the Cientificos hampered and impeded him. To foment a counter-revolution they took advantage of the fact that in various parts of the country there were disorderly bands of armed men committing numerous depredations. These men had risen up in the shadow of the Maderista revolution, and at its close, instead of laying down their arms, they devoted themselves to the looting of ranches and ungarrisoned isolated towns. Of these brigands—for they were neither more nor less, whatever they may have called themselves then or may call themselves now—the most formidable was Emiliano Zapata. His alleged reason for continuing in arms after the surrender of the dictatorship was that his men had not been paid for their services. President De la Barra paid them, but their brigandage continued. And at the most critical moment Pascual Orozco, Jr., Madero's trusted lieutenant, in command of the military forces of Chihuahua, issued—on the heels of reiterated promises of fealty to the Government—a pronunciamiento in favor of the revolution and delivered the state which had been entrusted to his keeping to the revolutionists, at whose head he now placed himself.
The new malcontents declared that Madero had betrayed the revolution, and that they were going to overthrow him and themselves carry out the promises he had made. This sounds heroic, noble, and patriotic, but will not bear close inspection. In the first place, many of the revolutionists with whom the new faction allied itself had been in arms since before Madero was even elected—a trivial circumstance, however, which did not seem to shake their logic. Moreover, as any honest, fair-minded person must have recognized, the promises of Madero were not such as he could fulfil with a wave of his hand or a stroke of his pen. They were big promises and they required time and careful study for their successful undertaking and the cooperation of the people at large against the public enemies, whereas Madero was not given time nor favorable circumstances nor the intelligent cooperation of any but a small proportion of the population.
As a matter of fact, Madero himself, far from overstating the benefits of the revolution led by him or making unwise promises of a Utopia impossible of realization, addressed these words to the Mexican people at the close of that conflict: "You have won your political freedom, but do not therefore suppose that your economic and social liberty can be won so suddenly. This can only be attained by an earnest and sustained effort on the part of all classes of society."
It is to be feared that for long years to come Mexico must stand judged in the eyes of the world by the disgraceful and uncivilized conduct of the various rebels, or so-called rebels, and simon-pure bandits who are contributing to the revolt and running riot over the country; but there is, nevertheless, in Mexico a class of people as educated, as refined, as honorable as those existing anywhere. And these people—the obreros (skilled working men) and the professional middle class, as well as the better elements of the laboring classes, are supporting Madero—not all in the spirit of his personal adherents, but because they realize the tremendous peril to Mexico of continued revolution. In 1911 the revolution was necessary—the peril had to be incurred, because nothing but arms could move the existing despotism; but none of the pretended principles of the revolution can now justify that peril when the man attacked is the legal, constitutional, duly elected President, overwhelmingly chosen by the people, and venomously turned upon immediately following his election without being given even an approach to a fair chance to prove himself.
All the better elements of the country realize that Madero no longer represents an individual or even a political administration. He represents the civilization of Mexico struggling against the unreined savagery of a population which has known no law but abject fear, and having lost that fear and the restraint which it imposed upon it, threatens to deliver Mexico to such a reign of anarchy, rapine, and terror as would be without a parallel in modern history. He represents the dignity and integrity of Mexico before the world.
Whatever the outcome, whether it triumphs or fails, the new administration, assailed on every side by an enemy as treacherous and unscrupulous as it is powerful, and making a last stand—perhaps a vain one—for Mexico's economic liberty and political independence, merits the support and comprehension of all the progressive elements of the world.