A diplomat's wife in Mexico - Edith O'Shaughnessy

N. went to see Huerta a day or two ago. The President was most relieved to have him safely back. He asked him the results of his visit to Vera Cruz and N. told him there was no change in the attitude of his government. Huerta remained impassive, and there was no further political conversation. He promised, however, that he would attend to several matters of the United States, in regard to claims, etc., affecting rather large interests. There are some advantages in living under a dictator, if you enjoy his favor, and Huerta would barter his soul to please the United States to the point of recognition.

While not convinced of the necessity, or even advisability, of formal recognition, N. does realize that everything for Mexico and the United States could have been accomplished by diplomacy in the early stages of Huerta’s incumbency. Now the bullying and collusive and secret arrangements with his enemies, the revolutionaries, to overthrow him, must eventually succeed, and in his fall we fear Huerta will take down with him the entire fabric of state. How often he has said, “I don’t ask your help; but don’t help my enemies!”

Sunday Evening, January 18th.

To-day we had a long motor trip to the old church and convent of Tepozotlan, with Seeger, Hay, the Tozzers, and Elim. There were pistols under the seats, of course, though the road (the old post-road to the north) is not a haunt of the Zapatistas. We drove two hours or more through the dazzling air, the road running for miles between picturesque fields planted with maguey, the Indian’s all, including his perdition. Here and there are collections of adobe huts, with bright-eyed, naked children playing by fences of nopal, and sometimes a lovely candelabra cactus standing guard. We passed through Cuauhtitlan—a most interesting place, with its deserted, picturesque hostelries that used to do a lively relay trade in the old coaching days. Each carved door, with glimpses of the big courtyard within, seems to tell the tale of past activities.

Tepozotlan is celebrated for its beautiful old church, with a fine carved façade, built by the Jesuits at the end of the sixteenth century. It was suppressed in 1857, under the Juarez laws of reform, and is now neglected, solitary, and lovely. Cypresses guard the entrance to its grass-grown patio, adorned by a few pepper-trees, with here and there an occasional bit of maguey. It was all sun-baked and radiant, receiving the many-colored light and seeming to give it forth again in the magic way of the Mexican plateau. We wandered through the church, which preserves its marvelous altarpieces in the Churrigueresque style, and admired the gilded, high-relief wood carvings, to which time has lent a marvelous red patiné. Some of the old chapels are still most beautifully adorned with rich blue Puebla tiles, now loosened and falling from neglected ceilings and walls. The adjoining seminario, with its endless corridors and rooms, is dim and deserted, except for spiders and millions of fleas; I thought at first, in my innocence, that these were gnats, as they settled on my white gloves. We lunched in the enchanting old patio of the cloisters, where orange-trees and a Noche Buena tree, with its brilliant red flowers, were growing around an old stone well in the middle. For those hours, at least, we felt that all was well with the world. Afterward we climbed the belfry and feasted our eyes on the beauty unfolded to our sight. East, west, south, and north other pink belfries pressed themselves against other blue hills, repeating the loveliness until one could have wept for the beauty of it all. The almost deserted village, straggling up to the patio of the church, is where Madre Matiana was born at the end of the seventeenth century. She made, on her death-bed, the celebrated prophecies which have been so strangely confirmed by subsequent events in Mexican history.

The Ojinaga refugees, garrison, and civilians are just arriving after the four days’ march through the desert to Marfa and Fort Bliss. This affair has cost $142,000 up to date, and $40,000 were spent for new equipments for officers. I think every officer in Mexico will contemplate, for a brief moment, the idea of crossing the frontier. There will be a good deal of disillusionment and suffering in the detention camp, however, if the soldiers are called on to comply with the hygienic rules of the American army.