Various ideas are advanced by diplomats here as to the possibility of some arrangement being made through a third party, some one of the great Powers; ... some way by which the elections could really be held, and Huerta, if really elected, allowed to remain. N. can’t do it, nor Mr. Lind, nor any American. The national pride on both sides is too compromised to admit of anything but a third power stepping in and “doing the trick.”
There is talk of a big English loan, guaranteed by the customs, at the same time allowing a certain amount of these to be freed—a couple of millions of pesos a month for the expenses of the government. There is a general twitching of international fingers, a longing to remedy our bungling. May, with his face toward Europe, sees everything rose-colored. He predicts that we shall be here until the next elections, the first Sunday in July. There is a great deal of speculation as to Huerta’s personal fortune, but no one knows whether he is rich or poor. His new house in San Cosme is, I hear, a cheap affair. Mme. Huerta wore, when she received, one large, very magnificent diamond depending from her throat. But why shouldn’t she have it?
Evening.
No political excitements these last days; only a monotonous and horrid record of grab by the temporarily strong from the always weak. A “good deed” in Chihuahua is one that transfers any valuable property to a rebel. Those palatial residences, the homes of prosperity and wealth for generations, have all changed hands during the last three weeks, which, however, does not mean that the much-talked-of peon has benefited in the slightest degree. It simply means that a few men, some of whom can neither read nor write, now hold what used to be in the possession of a few men who could read and write. The land in Mexico has always been in the hands of a few thousand individuals, and the peon is always exploited, no matter what the battle-cry. A kind paternalism on the part of some of the upper class hacendados, who leave him more or less to the mercies of the Spanish administrador, has been his best fate.
His unfitness for government has never been questioned. When he is weak, he promises all things; when he is strong, he is destructive. Though there have been sentimental remarks about the peon’s intelligence, and his wrongs, which are appalling, no government except ours ever dreamed of putting the destinies of the state into his hands—into the hands of these eighty-six per cent. of human beings who can neither read nor write.
Curiously enough, it is the custom to assert that the Church kept the Indians in this state of ignorance; but education, after the Laws of Reform in 1857, was taken out of the hands of the priests and given into those of the lay authorities. That was nearly sixty years ago—three Indian generations. Who runs may read, literally, in this case.
Eduardo I. told me an amusing and enlightening story yesterday. An Indian went to a priest to ask to be married. The priest, finding his ideas of the Divinity were of the haziest in spite of much instruction, said, “Hijo” (son), “I cannot do it until you have learned el rezo” (a very elemental catechism), and proceeded to give him further instruction. The Indian returned the next day and said that it was all very difficult and that he still did not understand about God being everywhere. “Is He in the church?” “Yes.” “Is He in the milpa” (cornfield)? “Yes.” “Is He in my hut?” “Yes.” “Is He in the corral de la casa de mi comadre” (yard of my godmother’s house)? “Of course; He is always there,” said the priest. The Indian’s expression became triumphant. “Padrecito,” he said, “I have caught you. My comadre’s house has no yard!”
Evening.
Mr. Lind is hurrying aboard the U. S. S. Chester to meet the President at Pass Christian. Strong Carranzista though Mr. Lind is proving himself, I don’t think the President will be led into the risky policy of recognizing this undeveloped but certainly not very promising quantity. We can put in any sort of government in Mexico—but can we keep one in? We encouraged the powers of dissolution around Diaz, recognizing and aiding Madero. The world knows the result. History always repeats itself here, and the writing on the wall is always in blood. After Mr. Lind’s months of inaction it must seem good to be plowing the high seas en route to the weighty conference. He said he would have returned to the States some time ago but for the “very satisfactory” progress of the rebels. He was especially “bucked up” when Villa announced his intention of eating his New-Year’s dinner at the Jockey Club.