A diplomat's wife in Mexico

by Edith O'Shaughnessy

Last night we received the news that Nelson’s father was indeed approaching his mortal end. This morning, at seven o’clock, after a sleepless night of “vanishings and finalities,” I went down-stairs in answer to a telephone call from Mr. Jennings, of the Hearst newspapers—who is always very nice about everything—to say that he had passed away peacefully at half past six. You know the days of death—how strained, how busy, how exhausting. The first thing I did was to go to Father Reis, at San Lorenzo, the San Sylvester of Mexico, and arrange for a requiem Mass on Saturday next, the 7th, to which we will invite the Cabinet, the Corps Diplomatique, and friends. Now I am at home again, in the mourning garments I wore for my precious brother.

March 4th. Evening.

The house seems very quiet to-night. No more looking for telegrams. He is lying on his death-bed, looking very handsome, I know. The fatigue of the busy, aching day is on me. Many people have been here to-day to tender their sympathies. Hohler, the last, came in for tea after seeing Nelson, and has just gone.

Now the pouch is closed and everybody and everything has departed. Elim is lying on the floor in front of my little electric stove. The chords so strongly moved by the passing of my beloved brother are vibrating again, not alone because of death and parting, but because of life and the imperfections of its relationships. Nelson has accepted his father’s death, has pulled himself together, and is going on with his work, of which there is more than sufficient.

How true it is that men follow their destinies rather than their interests; a something innate and unalterable drives each one along. Genio y figura hasta la sepultura—a Spanish saying to the effect that mind, temperament, inclination, are unchanged by the circumstances of life, even to the grave.

March 5th.

As I was reading last night, waiting for dinner to be served, a visitant, rather than a visitor, appeared in my drawing-room incognito—a simple “Mr. Johnson,” eager, intrepid, dynamic, efficient, unshaven!...

Young Terrazas, the son of the former great man of Chihuahua, of whom I wrote you when first he was captured by Villa at the taking of Chihuahua, several months ago, has not yet been released, and Villa threatens to execute him to-morrow if the half-million of ransom money is not forthcoming. The father has raised, half the sum, with the greatest difficulty, but, fearing some trick (and he has every reason for distrust), he won’t give the money till he receives his son. It appears the son has been horribly treated, several times hung up until he was nearly dead, then taken down and beaten. Young Hyde, of the Mexican Herald, said yesterday, apropos of like matters, that he had seen a man brought last night to Mexico City who had been tortured by the rebels; the soles of his feet were sliced off, his ears and tongue were gone, and there were other and nameless mutilations, but the victim was still living. The only difference between the rebels and the Federals is that the former have carte blanche to torture, loot, and kill, and the Federals must behave, to a certain extent, whether they want to or not. It is their existence that is at stake. Huerta, though he may not be troubled with scruples or morals other than those that expediency dictates, has his prestige before the world to uphold, and is sagacious enough to realize its value. The rebels go to pieces as soon as there is any question of government or order. Villa is without doubt a wonderful bandit, if bandits are what the United States are after. I see by the newspapers that Mr. Bryan is begging the Foreign Relations Committee to keep the Mexican situation off the floor of Congress....

One by one, the Mexicans to whom we have given asylum and safe-conducts to Vera Cruz, upon receiving their word of honor not to intrigue against the government, break that word and go over to the rebels. We have just seen the name of Dr. Silva (formerly governor of Michoacan, whom we had convoyed to Vera Cruz) as one of the somewhat tardy commission appointed by Carranza to investigate the murder of Benton.

We are aghast at the resignation of Mr. John Bassett Moore as counselor to the State Department. He is learned, perfectly understanding, and very experienced in a practical way about Latin-American affairs.