February 17th.
I decided this morning not to go to New York, though Berthe had my things in readiness for to-morrow night. I was afraid that when I wanted to return I might not be able to get up to the city from Vera Cruz.
I went to see von Hintze this morning about the circus performance on Friday night for the Red Cross. He had already sent out invitations for a big dinner for that night, but he will postpone this until Saturday. He thinks there will be trouble here, and soon, and that I would never have time to go and return. So are destinies decided. Suddenly it was clear to me that I was to stay with my boy and Nelson and await results. Von Hintze considers the situation desperate and has sent out a circular telling his nationals to leave the country. In that story, “Two Fools,” you will see some of the disadvantages of leaving, faced by people whose all is here. Von Hintze is having Maxim quick-firing guns up from Vera Cruz. Three good mitrailleuses and the men to work them would be ample protection for any of the legations in case of riots.
Diaz Miron, who is threatening Nelson’s life, has already killed three men. Another man he shot limps about town, and he himself has a bad arm. He is a poet, a neurotic, but wrote in his young days some of the most beautiful Spanish verse that exists. Now he is old, violent, and eccentric. I hardly think anything will come of his threats. Huerta has other Diaz Mirons; he has but one American chargé d’affaires; and if necessary Diaz Miron can be put in the Penitenciaría or Belem. I only fear some fool may catch the idea and do what Miron wouldn’t do.
A very nice cable came from Mr. Bryan this afternoon, saying that the President was deeply concerned at the threats against Nelson, and that we should arrange for secret-service men to follow him when he goes out of the Embassy; and also, if necessary, have a military guard at the house. There has been a secret-service man walking up and down outside for several days, and a dull time he must be having.
The morning was soft, yet brilliant, when I walked down to von Hintze’s. It seems strange that blood and tragedy should be woven in such a beautiful woof. Von Hintze is not an alarmist, but by telling me to go to New York, on the theory that everybody that can should leave, he certainly decided me to stay. I can’t be away if anything happens here. So now I am calm again. Having been ready to go, not dodging the hard duty, makes me able to remain in peace.
February 18th.
We have a new Minister for Foreign Affairs, a gentleman, to replace Moheno, the joyful bounder who has been in during the past few months. Portillo y Rojas, the new minister, is also supposed to be that white blackbird, an honest man. He has held various public offices without becoming rich, even when he was governor of the State of Jalisco. He, like all the rest, however, will do as Huerta dictates.
Maximo Castillo, the bandit responsible for the awful Cumbre tunnel disaster, was captured by American troops yesterday. Twenty-one Americans perished in the disaster. I wonder what Washington will do with him? To which of the two unrecognized governments can he be turned over? He was making a big détour around a mountain range, with a few followers, when he was caught, trying to avoid Villa. This is another piece of good luck for “the tiger.”
Huerta continues to believe in himself. N. says that unless von Hintze had information of a precise nature that Blanquet (Huerta’s intimate friend and his Minister of War) is going to betray him, the end is by no means in sight. But treachery is as much a part of this landscape as the volcanoes are.