I went with von Hintze and N. to the big front door and watched the motor disappear in the darkness. Delicious odors from the geraniums and heliotrope in the garden enveloped the house, but after a moment I came back, feeling very still. The idea of American blood watering the desert of Chihuahua grips my heart. I can see those dry, prickly cactus stubs sticking up in the sand. No water anywhere! During the Madero revolution a couple of hundred Mexicans died there of thirst, and they knew their country. I kept looking about my comfortable drawing-room, with its easy-chairs and photographs, books and bowls of flowers, and saying to myself: “So that is the way wars are made.” This putting of another’s house in order is getting on my nerves.
The telephone has been ringing constantly. The journalists have had indications from Washington that something is impending.
Saturday, November 15th.
N. came in last night at half past twelve, after a three hours’ conference with Aldape. He is to see him again at ten this morning. They say that the presence of Mr. Lind gives publicity to every step, that their national dignity is constantly imperiled, and that it is impossible to negotiate under such conditions. Aldape also said that Huerta flies into such a rage whenever Lind’s name is mentioned that conversation becomes impossible.
Later.
Things are very strenuous to-day. N. saw Garza Aldape at ten. He said he had passed a sleepless night, after their conference, and had not yet presented the ultimatum to Huerta. N. asked him if he were afraid to do so, and he answered, quite simply, “Yes.” N. told him he would return at three o’clock, and if by that time the note had not been presented through the regular channels, he would do it himself.
The outlook is very gloomy. Carranza in the north has refused the offices of W. B. Hale as mediator, saying, “No foreign nation can be permitted to interfere in the interior matters of Mexico.” If Carranza says that, certainly Huerta cannot say less. So there we are. Though nothing was further from his purpose, Mr. Lind has absolutely knocked any possible negotiations on the head by the noise and publicity of his arrival in the city of Montezuma and Huerta. The Latin-American may know that you know his affairs, and know that you know he knows you know; but he does not want and will not stand publicity.
This morning I went out “junking” at the Thieves’ Market with Lady C. It seemed to us that all the rusty keys in the world, together with all the locks, door-knobs, candlesticks, spurs, and family chromos were on exhibition. We were just leaving when my eye fell on a beautiful old blue-and-white Talavera jar, its metal top and old Spanish lock intact. After considerable haggling I ended by giving the shifty-eyed Indian more than he had ever dreamed of getting, and much less than the thing was worth. Drugs, sweetmeats, and valuables of various kinds used to be kept in these jars. Greatly encouraged, I dragged Lady C. to the Monte de Piedad. All foreigners as well as natives frequent it, hoping, in vain, to get a pearl necklace for what one would pay for a string of beads elsewhere. One of the monthly remates, or auctions, was going on, and the elbowing crowd of peons and well-dressed people, together with the familiar Aztec smell, made us feel it was no place for us. The diamonds and pearls here are mostly very poor, and the great chunks of emeralds with their thousand imperfections are more decorative than valuable. The fine jewels of the wealthy class have come mostly from Europe, though shrewd buyers are on the lookout for possible finds in the constant turnover of human possessions. There are beautiful opals to be had in Mexico, but you know I wouldn’t touch one, and the turquoise has been mined from time immemorial. The museums everywhere are full of them as talismans and congratulatory gifts, to say nothing of the curio-shops.
Cortés, it appears, was very fond of jewels, and was always smartly dressed in fine linen and dark colors, with one handsome ornament. When he went back to Spain he set all the women crazy by the jewels he took with him. Emeralds, turquoises, gold ornaments, and panaches of plumes of the quetzal (bird of paradise) cunningly sewn with pearls and emeralds, after the Aztec fashion, were distributed with a lavish hand. The presents for his second wife were so splendid that the queen became quite jealous, though he had made her wonderful offerings. It is hinted that this was the beginning of his disfavor at court.