A diplomat's wife in Mexico

by Edith O'Shaughnessy

I write no more. I feel very triste with the sight of that poor, bleeding head before my eyes and the memory of the impact of that body against the motor.

February 20th.

The poor man is still alive, but is going to die. The curious thing about the fatality (which is the only word for it) is that the man had just come from Querétaro, where he had sold a house for 4,200 pesos, which he had on him, and which were subsequently stolen from him at the policía. I noticed that when he was put on the stretcher his hand for a moment convulsively pressed his belt. I suppose moving him brought a momentary consciousness, and he thought weakly of his all. Doubtless he was the only pelado in town that had that or any amount on him. The chauffeur is in jail, and, after all, Kanya will have a lot of trouble before the matter has been arranged.

The comic journals of this week have just appeared. All take a shot at Mr. Wilson for his recognition of Peru. Multicolor has him, with a smile, handing the Reconocimiento to Peru—a handsome young woman, representing la Revolución—while with the other hand he tears the map of Mexico from the wall.

The other day Nelson had a most interesting talk with Huerta. He said he realized that the existence of any government in Mexico without the good-will of the United States was difficult, if not impossible; and that he was deeply distressed that they did not take into account the manifold difficulties under which he was laboring. It was at this interview that N. arranged the question of getting in arms. Huerta pointed out that all the requests N. had made him on behalf of the United States had been granted, and that the entire Federal army had been ordered to give special consideration to Americans. He said that he did not desire to criticize the government of the United States, but did wish to point out that if it defeats him in pacifying the country it will be forced into the difficult and thankless task of armed intervention. He continued that, on looking at the Mexican situation, one must not lose sight of the fact that Mexico is an Indian country (mentioning the difficulties we had had with our Indians); that the Indian population here had been oppressed by the Spaniards and the landowning classes for centuries; that during the régime of Porfirio Diaz they had conceived the desire for material betterment, but were given no chance (the chances being for the few); that under the régime of Madero the revolutionary habit became general, as the sequel of unfulfillable promises. Also that the present task in Mexico was not to establish a democracy, but to establish order. He did not criticize the rebels of the north, but said they would never, in the event of victory, be able to establish a government in Mexico, and that one of their first acts would be to turn against the United States. From Maximilian to Huerta they have all known our friendship is essential.

The Benton case is going to make an untold amount of trouble, and the Mexican problem again comes into sight from the international point. A life is worth a life, perhaps, before God; but down here the murder of a wealthy British subject is of more account than that of some poor American or a thousand Mexicans. The best and most-to-be-believed version of Villa’s shooting of him is that, on Benton’s expostulating with him about the confiscation of his property in Chihuahua, he was shot, then and there. That is the reason they have been unwilling to let his wife have the body, which shows bullet-wounds in the wrong places. Villa claims he was shot after a court-martial had declared him guilty of an attempt on his, Villa’s life. You can imagine a wealthy Britisher attempting Villa’s life! All any foreigner up there wants is to be let alone. Whatever the true history may be, there is intense indignation on the frontier. Sir Cecil Spring-Rice has made formal protestations to the State Department. The English press is aroused, and it was told us by one correspondent that Sir Edward Grey will be called on to answer questions in Parliament. The fat is, at last, in the fire.

Dr. Ryan returned yesterday, more or less discouraged with his Washington trip. Everything for the rebels. Mr. Lind is so fascinated by them that I understand he is counseling direct financial aid—a loan. He hasn’t perceived the shape and color of events here, but has become obsessed by the idea of getting rid of Huerta. That and his hallucination about Villa cover the whole situation for him. What is to be done afterward if Huerta is squeezed out? That is what we all want to know—the afterward. One long vista of bloodshed and heartbreak and devastation presents itself.

February 22d.

Elim has gone to his first and, I hope, his last bull-fight, with Dr. Ryan. He has clamored so to go that I finally yielded. I feel rather uncertain about it. There was a very chic dinner at von Hintze’s last night, for Sir Lionel, who leaves on Wednesday. I feel awfully sorry for him, but this Benton matter may be a justification, to a certain extent. He says he is only to be gone six weeks—but quién sabe? Hohler has arrived—a good friend of ours. His are safe hands in which to leave matters.

Nelson is busy getting one of the American correspondents out of that terrible Belem. He has been put in there with all those vermin-covered people, with their typhoid and other germs, and must have had some bad hours.