I got home from the station to find Mrs. Burnside in the drawing-room, ready to spend the evening. The captain was down-stairs, with what he afterward characterized as “blankety blanks” (willing, but unmechanical civilians), who were helping him to set up the rapid-firing guns, otherwise known as the “doves of peace.” Mrs. Burnside tried to persuade me to go to Vera Cruz to-morrow, when she departs, but I couldn’t, in conscience, cause a probably unnecessary stampede of people from their comfortable homes. If I had taken advantage of the various opportunities held out to flee, I would have had, in common with many others, an uncomfortable winter à cheval between Mexico City and the “Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz.”
I don’t know what answer has been made to the Hague proposition, if any, by Washington; but it must have staggered Mr. Bryan and caused him to blink. The Hague is one of the dearest children of his heart, and universal peace has ever been a beloved and fruitful source of eloquence. When it confronts him at this special moment, can he do otherwise than take it to his bosom?
April 16th.
This morning things seemed very bad. A curious telegram came from Mr. Bryan, to be given to the press for its private information, not yet for publication, saying that the Tampico incident was quite in the background, but reciting two recent and heinous crimes of Mexico. First, a cable for the Embassy was held over by a too-zealous partisan of the censura at the cable-office. N. arranged that matter in two minutes, over the telephone, when it was brought to the attention of the cable authorities. Hohler happened, for Mexico’s good, to be with N. at the time. The incident was less than nothing, until mentioned in the open cable from Washington. The other incident, also well enough known, happened a short time ago in Vera Cruz, where another too-zealous official arrested an orderly in uniform, carrying the mails between the ships and the Vera Cruz post-office. That matter was dismissed after an apology, a nominal punishment of the offending official, and the immediate release of the carrier. Admiral Fletcher attached no importance to the affair.
I have not cited the incidents in order. The telegram for the press, in referring to the cable incident, begins, “far more serious is the withholding by the censor of a cable addressed to the chargé d’affaires of the United States.” It also points out that no like incidents have happened to the representatives of other nations in Mexico, and that we must protect our national dignity—to which I respond with all my heart. But when we do intervene here—which I know we must—let it be for some vital case of blood and destruction. The day Huerta has a stroke of apoplexy, gets a knife in his back, or is killed by a firing-squad, we must come in, for anarchy will reign. He may not be the best man in the world, and clever and even profound thoughts of one day are counterbalanced by ineptitudes of the next; but he does seem to be the only man in Mexico who can and will keep order in the provinces under his control, especially now that the best and most conservative elements are associated with the task—Rincon Gaillardo, Iturbide, Garcia Pimentel, and many others.
Not a word of all the happenings of the past few days has appeared in any newspaper in Mexico. The great potentialities are hidden, like a smoldering, unsuspected fire. There is a throbbing, an unrest—but the great public doesn’t yet know whence it comes. I think if N. has any luck in his pacific endeavors he ought to have the Nobel prize—though I understand his chef direct has an eye on that.
April 17th.
Last night N. was with the Minister for Foreign Affairs for several hours. They finally tracked Huerta to his house. The orderly said he had gone to bed, but the Minister sent in his card. After a wait of half an hour he sent in another. Huerta had forgotten that he was waiting. He received him in bed, and in the midst of the conversation asked him, as he afterward told N., what he thought about his pajamas, adding, with a grin, that they were Japanese. Nelson did not go in. He had spent several hours with the President at various times during the day, and did not want to see him about painful and irritating matters at such a late hour, when he and the President were worn out.
In thinking over Huerta’s remark, a few days ago, about the demonstrations of our fleet not being a calamity, I believe he means that this is, after all, the best way of consolidating the Federal troops. We may stiffen them to service of their country against a common enemy—but, oh, the graft! Oh, the dishonesty and self-seeking that animate many of the hearts beating under those uniforms! They sell anything and everything to the highest bidder, from automobile tires and munitions of war, to their own persons. As for punishing the various officers that are guilty, it seems very difficult; court-martials would mean the decamping to the rebels of many officers, high and low. So when we demand punishment of this or that official, the “Old Man” is placed between the devil and the deep sea. It is a position he should now be accustomed to, however. On spies or on those conspiring against the government he is relentless. That all political colors recognize, and they do not hold it against him. Apropos of going over to the rebels, the Mazatlan incident of last Christmas (or January first) is a case in point. The officers on the gunboat Tampico in the harbor had a scandalous debauch, with stabbings, etc. They were to be court-martialed, but they got out of that difficulty by going over, boat and all, to the Constitutionalists at Topolobampo!