A diplomat's wife in Mexico

by Edith O'Shaughnessy

The dinner last night for twenty-four was most brilliant, and perfectly appointed, from the lavish caviar on beds of ice to the last flaming omelette en surprise. We sat at the small ends of the table, Madame Lefaivre on von Hintze’s right, and I on his left; Sir Lionel by me, and Sir Christopher by Madame Lefaivre; Lady Carden, handsomely gowned and jeweled, at the other extreme end, with the next ranking men on either side. Sir C., just opposite to me, was glistening with decorations and shining with the special, well-groomed, English look. I asked him if he hadn’t been afraid to come over the rebel-infested mountains with so much temptation on his person. He answered, as a forceful, sporting look came into his eyes, “They wouldn’t get the chance to keep anything of mine!”[6]

It is impossible to talk politics; things are too delicate and I imagine we all have rather a shifty look in the eye at the remotest mention of la situación. I can see, however, that Sir C. has been impressed by Huerta, and would probably have liked to tell him to “keep it up.”

I wore my filmy black and my pearls, which combination seemed to give pleasure. After dinner, and some conversation with the captain of the Bremen, who, however great his merit, didn’t have the clothes nor the distinction of Sir C., we played bridge—Sir C., Lady Carden, Hohler, and myself. Sir C. won every rubber in a nice, quiet way. He lunches with us to-morrow at Chapultepec restaurant; von Hintze and his officers, unfortunately, are already engaged for a Colony lunch.

Evening.

A full day. Red Cross work from ten till twelve, then home to change—not only my dress, but the scent that hung round me—to go to Chapultepec. Sir C. and Cavendish, somewhat dimmed by being in plain clothes, drove up to the restaurant just as I was getting out of the motor, the Belgian minister, Mr. Percival, and the Cardens coming a few minutes later. We had espied Huerta’s auto in the Park, and I had the bold idea of getting the President for lunch, knowing it would render things spicy for Sir C. Heaven was watching over me, however, for instead of stopping at the restaurant for one of the famous copitas, Huerta passed through the Park, disappearing in the direction of Popotla.

It was ideal lunching on the veranda, bathed in the warm, scented air, talking of many things, and climes, with the easy exchange of thoughts that is the pleasure of people of the world. Sir C. said that he had spent most of his time changing his clothes, since his arrival, having come with nothing between full uniform and morning coat. He had been to the Foreign Office that morning in uniform, into civilian for lunch, was to dress at three for some sort of function at the Palace, and then change to visit the castle of Chapultepec and the cadet school attached. He had accomplished all these labors when at six we met again at Madame Simon’s for bridge. His roving seaman’s eye lighted up and seemed very appreciative of the bevy of handsome young women he found there. Again, with “Cradock’s luck,” he raked the shekels in. He said the visit to Chapultepec and the cadet school was a most thorough proceeding, and that he was spared no crack or cranny of the school, of which, however, the Mexicans are justly proud.

There is a reception at the Legation for the English colony to-night, and to-morrow early he descends to the sea. Sir C. has distinguished himself in many climes and will, I imagine, get a bit restless at Vera Cruz, waiting for something to happen. He directed the British, American, Japanese, and Italian forces for the relief of Tientsin. He has yet to learn that no outside force can hurry events in Latin America. They happen from their own momentum, in their own way. I have an idea he is a full-fledged Huertista, but, oh! so nice about it all. He is ranking officer to Admiral Fletcher, which might, at any moment, make complications. How can Britannia rule the waves in the sacred territorial waters of the Monroe doctrine? But it is always the same. On all international occasions our admirals find themselves outranked, even by navies of inferior powers. The highest rank our officers on active duty can attain is rear-admiral. They bring up the rear in more senses than one, while all other forces have vice-admirals and admirals available for any little trips that seem expedient.

December 5th.

I am sending this off by the German boat Ypiranga. We have given up going to Vera Cruz on Saturday. People say that it is impossible for us to do so without creating a panic. No one would really know that we had left a hostage in the shape of the blue-eyed boy. I felt rather in the mood to go, after the visit of Sir Christopher, who painted the harbor of Vera Cruz in most attractive colors.

Huerta is gradually getting rid of his Cabinet. Garza Aldape, Gobernación, went, as I wrote you, and now de Lama (Hacienda) is to go to Paris by the Ypiranga. I don’t imagine Huerta has much to do with his Cabinet. They fill up certain conventional spaces usual in governments, and that is all—a sort of administrative furniture, along with the tables and chairs. Burnside said to-day that when Huerta really has a Cabinet meeting it consists of himself and advisers in the shape of copitas. He has just got full powers from “Congress” to put into effect any orders he may give in military and naval matters for the next year. He pays no attention to Washington and it is rather difficult to do anything with a person who acts as if you were non-existent. The ultimata continue to go into the waste-paper basket, and Vera Cruz is so full of war-ships that those yet to come will have to stay outside the harbor. The Rhode Island, the Suffolk, and the Condé have the best places available for the big ships. The rest of the harbor is taken up with gunboats.