Alberto Pani gave a luncheon for me, which proved unexpectedly pleasant. We were three women and seven men, among whom was José Vasconselos, the Rector of the University, a very brilliant man for whom the Government has created a portfolio; Enciso, the Guardian of Ancient Buildings; Martinez, the head of the Academia of Belles Artes, Mantenegro, a painter of great distinction. I sat between my host, whom I find understanding and easy to talk to and on my other side a man called Dr. Atl. His name isn’t really Atl at all, but as he is called that and was introduced to me under that name he may as well remain Atl. He is the man who was especially asked to meet me, to tell me about Popocatapetl. He has been up to the crater a great many times. In fact the love and the obsession of his life is said to be the great White Mountain! He was explained to me as being a painter, a poet, a Bolshevik, a Bohemian.... He certainly has individuality, and was not a bit surprised when I told him he was a Russian type, and that in fact he talks French as the Russians I have known talked it. He knew it, but denied any Russian blood.... Anyway to my great delight, he says it is perfectly possible to do the ascent at this, the rainy season. So many people have been telling me that it was an impossibility! He promises to take me next week.[9] With my host I had an interesting talk, about things here, as well as in Russia. He asked me what my impression was of Lenin, and I told him.... We discussed opinions very openly, and at the end of it I asked him, laughingly: “Am I a Bolshevik ...?” and he said “No,—you are une femme intelligente, with good judgment!” Above all we talked about Mexico and I think he was pleased by my enthusiasm and my interest. I amused them all, by telling them (to illustrate the prevailing ignorance of Mexico) that my “in-laws” had had a conference on the matter of my having dared to risk Dick’s life by bringing him to Mexico, as a result of which they had decided that on my return to England, Dick should be removed from my custody. An excellent reason, as they pointed out, for not returning to England, but remaining in Mexico! “All the same,” Pani admitted, “we have had terrible times here, when really one only went out at the risk of one’s life, and the outside world hears only of our upheavals.” He said laughingly that Popocatapetl was very emblematical of Mexico.... “We are a volcanic country, ready at any moment to erupt.” I like their sense of humor about themselves. When I said I wanted to meet General Villa, they all laughed, and said “Well, if you want to meet Mexican Generals, your time will be well taken up, there are about six thousand of them!”
Sunday, July 17, 1921. Mexico City.
Spent the day with Mr. Niven at Atcapazalco about half an hour out by tram, and a couple of miles from the tramway. It was real “wilds” with here and there an Indian village. Mr. Niven works indefatigably. All during the week his workmen prepare the ground for him and dig the trenches, and on Sundays he comes out himself, with a small pickaxe and goes over the ground. He has done this for twenty-seven years, and a great many things in the National Museum are of his discovery and presentation. There are three civilizations buried in layers, and because nothing is known of them, they are called the Aztec (three feet below the ground), the pre-Aztec and the primitives. The principal and most valuable of the layers is the middle one. Unfortunately, ours was not as productive a Sunday as it should have been, for Mr. Niven allowed a Mrs. Gould to turn Saturday into Sunday and she had all the benefit of the week’s digging, and unearthed a little Xochipili (The Goddess of Spring and Flowers). Nevertheless the soil yielded up innumerable little terra-cotta heads of Egyptian design, and incense burners, and obsidian knives. At the last, he came upon the wall of a building, it was an outer wall, and he had great hopes of what it might contain, but the hour was then late, and a thunder storm threatening and we had to abandon the pursuit. One learns patience at this job.
Tuesday, July 19, 1921. Mexico City.
The National Museum is only open in the morning, but Mr. Niven and Professor (of Archaeology) Mena, opened it for me, and spent the afternoon explaining things to me. It is a place in which one might spend to advantage every day for two months. It contains a wealth of revelation. Even the countries that contain Mexican collections can have no idea of Mexican primitive culture. One must see the collection in this Museum.
I had just been given a small jade god, which I recognized at once as being infinitely old and beautiful. Professor Mena knew all about it at once. It is a “stone of virtue” (Piedra Divertua) and belongs to the Mixteca civilization, two thousand years ago. It is beautifully carved and I love it dearly. (Had it a small pointed beard, it would look like Trotzky!) I did not exaggerate the impression of my former superficial visit to the Museum. If I was struck by it then, I was overwhelmed by it today. The more one looks the more one discovers of beauty. The best things are masterpieces, and two or three of the reliefs are as beautiful and as well carved and drawn, as any of the most famous works of art in the world. I say this with perfect confidence. Egyptian and Assyrian influence with classic Greek designs and a tremendous suggestion of Chinese, makes one perfectly bewildered as to origin and tradition. Upstairs among the smaller things there were objects of such finished beauty that I was silenced even as to expression of appreciation. I wonder if I am an unusually ignorant person, or whether I have made a great discovery. I am under the impression that the world in general does not know much about things Mexican.
Sometimes, I am afraid to trust my own judgment, ... since I discovered Shakespeare. It was long after my maturity, and I happened to chance upon “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I could not put it down until I had finished it, and then, so thrilled was I, that I rushed to my family and told them all about it. Perhaps my discovery of Mexico is another of the world’s Shakespeares, which everyone already knows about except me. But so enthused am I, and delighted, that I would like to take Mexico to England, or else bring England to Mexico.... When I find something interesting I want to share it.... Russia was a thing to live, this is a thing to see. Not many of my friends would have cared to live as I loved living, in Russia. But heaps of people would appreciate the things that are beautiful to see here in Mexico.
No news from Dr. Atl about Popocatapetl but rumor says it is in eruption. Message through Mr. Malbran, the Argentine Minister, from President Obregon, inviting me to Chapultepec Castle Sunday night at 9:00 P.M. Message from Mr. de la Huerta, the Minister of Finance, saying that he has heard and read of the mondaine society by whom I am being entertained, and that he suggests that in three days, if I am tired of these people, I go to see him and he will show me “the other side of Mexico” ... invitation definite for Monday afternoon next.
Sunday, July 24, 1921. Mexico City.
Mr. Conway fetched me and Dick in his car at 9:00 A.M. and we drove out to Tipositlan. It is about 40 kilometers away. It had been raining all night and the roads were desperately slippery. We had to climb up a small mountain and the road was not really a road, but a muddy torrent. The car stuck. Dick delighted, he got out and climbed the mountain side and picked wild flowers. To my surprise it did in time get out of the mire and we climbed to the top, closely followed by a huge motor-lorry. When we had descended the hill on the other side onto the flat road, the lorry tried to race us, with the result that the driver was very nearly jolted off the seat and the man next to the driver did actually fall off! Such is the condition of the roads just outside the city area.