Mr. de S.'s lived, going up some winding stone steps in a house built
at the end of the sixteenth century, giving into irregular-shaped
rooms with strange windows apparently not designed to give light.
The paintings portrayed little or nothing of the charm of Mexico,
but Madame Lefaivre found one of some place near Cordoba, which she
thought for a moment that she wanted. I would much rather have closed
my eyes and looked in on my inner Mexican gallery, or been out with the
mysterious Indians in the mysterious twilight which was enveloping the
crowded plaza.
When we finally came out lanterns were being hung on the little booths,
_tortilleras_ were slapping up their cakes, and everywhere there was a
smell of the pungent peppers and all sorts of nameless things they put
into them. Children were rolled up asleep or playing about half-clad
in the cold dusk, and zarape-enveloped men bent over dimly lighted
squares of cloth laid out on the ground, engrossed in games of chance.
I was suddenly sad, as one might be at seeing rolled out the inexorable
scroll of a subject people.
_December 12th._
Beautiful weather, soft, shining, clear--but that cold snap was a
terror. Many little brown Indian babies returned to their Maker by way
of bronchitis, pneumonia, and kindred ills. It is good to think of them
warm, safe with the Lord, so many children with none or insufficient
clothing in that cruel, lifeless cold!
It has been rather a day of contrasts, for in the morning I mingled
again with the Indian world at Guadalupe,[28] and in the afternoon I
went to the benefit held for a new charity hospital by a committee of
American women. The affair crystallized about the art exhibit of Miss
Helen Hyde, who has a collection of the most lovely Japanese things
done on her recent visit to Nippon. She calls them chromozylographs,
and they are charmingly framed in plain black strips. I bought several
after harrowing indecisions.
Madame Madero came and had tea with us at a table over which Mrs.
Wilson presided. Madame Madero was almost extinguished by a huge
bronze-green and purple hat matching her velvet dress. Madame Calero
and Madame Lie made up the party, with Mrs. Stronge, the newly married
wife of the British minister, who has just arrived. She had on some
interesting emeralds, picked up in Bogotá, their last post.
Mrs. Wilson goes to-morrow. I always miss her kindness and her
consideration.
Christmas is in the air. We dine with the ambassador at the Kilverts'
at Coyoacan on that day. My thoughts will be with my dear ones, and the
seas, the mountains, and the valleys between will hurt.
Just now the following was handed in to me through Mr. Cummings:
"Governor Juarez left for Oaxaca last night. General Hernandez and
troops left for Juchitan this morning. Peace reigns on the Isthmus."
It looks as if it soon might be time for a lone exotic niece to betake
her to those regions.
_December 15th._
A very interesting letter from San Gerónimo of the 12th came this
morning. The governor, with his party, had just left the house for
Tehuantepec and Salina Cruz. He had come most unostentatiously, with
only his secretaries and a few officials--no guard, no private car,
no banquets--as he said he had come to restore peace, and not for
feasting.
The celebrated Che Gómez, an hour or so before, had been sitting,
uninvited and unafraid, on the front porch. When he learned that the
governor was expected he betook himself off, with followers and guard,
to another station. The governor subsequently wired the police at
Rincon Antonio to arrest him on the arrival of the train before he got
out of the state (Oaxaca). He was taken to jail, and that night was
shot with his men.
No word of regret anywhere for his fate, and I dare say he gave up
his own life as easily as he had taken that of others. Governor Juarez
was warmly welcomed by all the towns, even by poor, ruined Juchitan,
Che Gómez's _own_ town, with open arms and flowers. The law-abiding
citizens are returning to their dismantled homes, after living in the
bush, from hand to mouth, for weeks.
_December 16th._
This morning at 11.30 a "good" earthquake. It suddenly got very dark,
and I went to the window, my infant clutching at my dress, to see what
was happening, when the roofs of the houses opposite began to undulate,
and I had to catch hold of the window, or we would have been thrown to
the floor.
The horses stopped short with perfectly stiff legs, and people began
running out of the doors and kneeling in the street and shrieking,
"_Misericordia! Misericordia!_" most uncomfortably. Nothing was broken
in the house, but every picture was left hanging askew, and pale
servants served a luncheon which showed the effects on _them_!
Elena appeared collarless, with damp, thick hair floating down her
back, and Cecilia had a blue rebozo twisted about her, no hint of
white anywhere on her person. They passed the dishes at an angle of
forty-five degrees.
_Later._
At three o'clock a dimness again fell upon the city, and there was
the faint, uncanny sound of sliding objects and slipping pictures and
swaying doors and curtains. In a second of time it had passed, but the
hint of cosmic forces leaves a decided trace on mere flesh and blood.
We went to the reception at Chapultepec on Thursday, "_par charité,
pas par snobisme_," as somebody unkindly said. The Mexican families of
repute boycott the Madero receptions. The few Mexicans who do go don't
figure in the real national accounting. The diplomats feel that they at
least ought to go, so last Thursday the inclosed clipping was produced.
Madame Madero, though small and worn-looking, is always dignified and
courteous, and receives with simplicity and cordiality. Madero seems in
a continual ecstasy; one would think he found Chapultepec the seventh
heaven. He is full of confidence in himself and in the country. A happy
man, one involuntarily says in looking at him. To-night is the ball the
French colony gives for him.
_December 17th._
The reception at the "Cercle Français," in their fine quarters in the
Calle de Motolinia, was a great success. The President with Madame
Lefaivre, in a handsome black-and-white gown, and Mr. Lefaivre with
Madame Madero in a dark, rich _evening_ dress, headed the procession
to an elaborate supper, all following according to the protocol, Mr.
Madero and Mr. Lefaivre sitting facing each other. Allart took me in.
Everything was decorated with the tricolor, and red and blue and white
lights, and masses of natural flowers, and very good music played
continuously; the affair was got up by the wealthy French _commerçants_
in honor of the President and his wife.
Madame Lefaivre said the President talked to her the whole time in
a most sanguine manner about the reforms he intends to introduce,
especially in the matter of public instruction, and was wrapped about
with illusions and dreams as to his rôle of apostle charged with the
regeneration of Mexico.
Afterward, when he made his speech in answer to the toast, he recalled
happy souvenirs of his youth in the Lycée de Versailles. When they
subsequently made the tour of the _salon_, Madame Lefaivre, in passing
me, whispered that she was _toute confuse_ at feeling herself so big
on the arm of the little President. He saluted right and left with a
smile which, without being fixed, was always there. I think he was very
pleased with the occasion and its international setting.
It is always interesting to see any colony turn out in distant posts,
and here the French colony, representing very large interests--banking,
industrial, mercantile--is numerous and important, comparable only to
that in Moscow.
The large department shops, _à la Bon Marché_, like the "Palacio
de Hierro" and the "Puerto de Vera Cruz," are in French hands. From
the days of their intervention, the French have invested largely in
Mexico, and now I hear there is much uneasiness in Gallic quarters, so
many interests are to be protected, and the protection is an unknown
quantity. Mr. Lefaivre is untiring in his efforts--but order can only
come through the government itself.
Previous to the famous elections, or rather "selections," as I prefer
to call them (the word elections could be dropped from use and not
missed in Mexico), the Partido Católico, among other parties of
conservative tendencies, was not efficiently formed. Iglesias Calderon
represented the old anti-clerical party, and De la Barra, in spite of
his determination to retire from public life, was made the candidate of
the National Catholic party, and of the Liberal party as well, for the
Vice-Presidency.
It was "generally understood" that he would be defeated. N. said last
night, informally, to Madero: "It is a pity; Mr. de la Barra has such a
good standing abroad." Madero replied: "I will see that he is _elected_
from somewhere else." And he was, later, from Querétaro, his native
town, as senator, I think.
They haven't got the "hang" of democracy here, nor any suspicion of
political parties having rights and dignities, and it is discouraging
to see them trying to work out their questions without any such
suspicions. It is war to the knife or the _adjective_ when one man
differs from another.
Bulnes had one of his flashing, witty articles in _El Imparcial_ not
long ago, _à propos_ of the candidature of Pino Suarez, in which he
says that as in classic days the language of intellectuals was Latin,
now in Latin-America that of the politicians is any kind of vile
language, and to be in conformity with electoral urbanity, when meeting
an acquaintance, one should salute him by saying, "I forestall any
remark you may make, by telling you that if you hold opinions differing
from mine you are a scoundrel!"
_December 18th._
I am inviting for my Xmas festivity those with children, _and_ the
childless, the colleagues, the Bedfords, the Bonillas, Kilverts, Judge
W., the ambassador's great friend, and members of the embassy. Mr.
Wilson has gone for a few days to the hot country to try to get rid of
his cold, and N. is looking after things in his absence. I have sent
off seventy post-cards, quite a document of this strange land.
Very pleasant dinner at the French Legation last night. Bridge
afterward till an unduly late hour for Mexico. The Lefaivres have
been here three years already, and would take a European post without
urging. You would like them--cultivated, sincere, and kind, and
Lefaivre shows his long training, his Latin-American experience in his
full appreciation of the situation. They came here from Havana, and
keep open house, constantly entertaining their colony, as well as doing
more than their share of "nourishing" their colleagues.
Have just been with Madame Lefaivre to the tea given by ---- for his
extraordinary-looking daughter, a huge, dark-eyed, fresh-complexioned
creature, _à la belle Fatima_, innocent, ignorant, and wanting a
husband; a not unusual type here, but not in our Anglo-Saxon category
at all.
_December 19th, Tuesday._
Hohler dropped in late for a few minutes. He is going off on one of his
long trips into the heart of the country. When I asked him which one of
his antique comrades would accompany him, he pulled out a fine little
edition of Virgil, diamond-printed on matchless paper. He is endlessly
strong and keen about things in general, and now that the minister has
arrived, can leave for a few days' outing.
Some of the long-expected furniture from London has come, and the
Stronges are busy installing themselves. The "lion and the unicorn" are
always most generous to those who represent them abroad.
Two interesting young women with letters from New York, from Mr.
Choate, also called--Miss Hague and Miss Brownell. They are painting
and collecting folk-songs. I am thankful for any one coming here to
record the fading glories of Mexico with intelligence and love. They
will come for the Christmas tree, also.
_December 21st._
Monsignore Vay de Vaya appeared yesterday en route for Panama. You know
space scarcely exists for him. He found a warm welcome, and I have a
luncheon for him on Saturday. He sends many regards, and hopes to meet
you at Nauheim again next summer. I am asking the Lefaivres, Riedls,
Carmona, _chef du protocole_, De Soto, the Belgian minister, _et al._
I enclose letter of the 17th from Aunt L., who has just been to
Juchitan, saying that the town looked very battered. The _jefe_ not yet
back. Among domestic items she says a large packet of cranberries has
arrived; after thirty years of Mexico, it is not quite so commonplace
as it sounds, but rather as if a denizen of a Vermont village had
received a crate of mangoes.
_December 22d, Friday._
N. and I went to call on Monsignore this morning. He is stopping at
the Hotel Iturbide. He was out, but I took a look about the imposing
_patio_, three-storied, colonnaded, and pierced with large, beautifully
carved doorways and windows. It was started on a magnificent scale for
the Emperor Iturbide, who paid the usual Mexican penalty for power at
the hands of the usual Mexican patriots before it was finished. 'Tis
known that as a hotel it leaves to be desired; the dust of revolutions
and ages covers the spacious corridors. There are strange silences when
you call for hot water, or any kind of water, for that matter. And you
eat somewhere else.
Yesterday another reception at Chapultepec. Madame Madero is much
changed from the simple-appearing woman of the Von Hintze dinner. I see
she naturally inclines to a somber richness of dress--dark velvets,
dull brocades--which I think fit her passionate, ambitious, resolute
temperament, though sometimes overpowering to her small physique.
Yesterday she had on a deep-blue brocaded velvet, with some sort of
heavy, lusterless fringe, and there was a decided though still discreet
gleam of jewels. That air of coming from the provinces, but nice
provinces, is somewhat gone.
The President slipped in quietly, later, without the playing of the
national hymn. There was quite a musical program. Madame Esmeralda
de Grossmann played beautifully on the harp. It appears she has an
international reputation. The daughter of ----, attired in a very
tight-skirted, lemon-colored satin dress, trimmed with swan's-down, one
of her pupils, started to play, broke down, was further discomfited
and finally routed by irate paternal glances. Angela Madero
sings charmingly with natural style, and gave Massenet's "Elégie"
delightfully. One is continually interested in the composition of
the presidential receptions, which means so much more than appears.
Madero's father and mother were there, with various daughters and sons
and sons' wives.
The Vice-President, young, tall, dark-skinned, black-eyed,
black-mustached, regular of features, without, however, any perceptible
color of personality, was accompanied by his wife and a contingent
of satellites, moving wherever he moved with the regularity of the
heavenly bodies--no intention of revolving alone in the unknown social
orbit. The _Corps Diplomatique_ was out in force, and the Protocole,
Carmona, Nervo, Pulido, etc., also Don Felix Romero, chief of the
Supreme Court, and his wife, Judge and Mrs. Sepulveda of California,
naturalized Americans, with a handsome daughter. But beyond these
I did not see any of what might be called "pillars of society," or,
indeed, anything remotely resembling props to uphold the new order. We
presented Monsignor Vay de Vaya, who struck the international note in
the pink-and-white-and-gold _salon des ambassadeurs_, whose spaces were
known to those princes of his monarchy, Maximilian and Carlota.
_December 23d, evening._
The Christmas tide is flowing full about the Alameda, where the Indians
have again stocked their _puestos_ with reminders of the season. We
have just come from a little _tournée_ between the rows of booths hung
with lanterns of every size and color, the odor of _la race cuivrée_
mingling with the more familiar scent of freshly cut pine-trees. Tiny
plaster and terra-cotta groups of the "Three Kings" abound--a white
man, a negro, a Mongolian in various fanciful garbings--shone on by
the largest of stars, and all sorts of "Holy Families," especially the
"Flight into Egypt," where the burro seems to have come into his own.
On all sides were great piles of peanuts, fruits known and unknown,
highly colored sweets, heaps upon heaps of fragile potteries, and
charming, pliable baskets, brought to the city from mountain fastnesses
or distant plains by Indian families afoot.
Soft, shining-bodied children were sleeping in the most fortuitous
of positions, uncovered, in the chill night air. I could but think
of blue-eyed, white-skinned children in warm nurseries. They lay
beside grotesque _naguales_--figures with hideous human faces on
woolly four-footed bodies, whose _raison d'être_ is to frighten.
The population inclines to the grotesque, anyway, on the slightest
provocation, and side by side with the _naguales_ are other hideous
clown-like figures--_piñatas_--which are the high-lights of certain
time-hallowed post-Christmas festivities. They are of all sizes
and prices--from little paper dolls hanging from bamboo rods that
will decorate adobe huts to the more expensive figures, bulky about
the waist, whose tinsel and tissue-paper garments conceal a great
earthenware jar filled with toys and candies.
The _cohetes_ are sounding as I write--a sort of
fire-cracker--announcing the advent of the Child to this Indian world.
As for the Posadas, we are evidently not to be initiated into their
mysteries. The Mexican families of note continue to sport their oaks
since the coming in of the Madero administration, and the Diplomatic
Corps this year is left out in the cold on these intimate occasions,
which are family parties held during nine days before Christmas,
symbolic of the efforts of Mary and Joseph to find a resting-place in
crowded Bethlehem.
_December 24th._
We see the list of diplomatic shifts; among them are a few real
Christmas presents. Dearing, who returned a short time ago, is made
assistant chief of the Latin-American division of the State Department.
He has made and will continue to make _une bonne carrière_. Schuyler,
whom I have not seen since he passed through Copenhagen _en route_ for
Petersburg, takes his place here. Cresson goes to London, which will
please him; the Blisses get Paris, quite the handsomest of all the
presents. Weitzel, who was here when we arrived, goes to Nicaragua,
and so on through a long list. I felt, when I saw the changes, a
sort of hankering for the Aryan flesh-pots, a sudden feeling of my
unrelatedness to Latin America. I was, so to speak, for the moment "fed
up" on the tropics with a thick sauce of world pain. Any light-colored
diplomat will know just what I mean, and I dare say the dark ones feel
it in higher latitudes.
Diplomacy, as offered by the United States Government, is a most
unsettling thing, anyway. The basic uncertainties of the _carrière_, to
begin with, and then, if you are in a place you like, the feeling that
at any time the trump may sound, and if you don't like it, hoping to
be changed. However, it all goes up like smoke along with other human
things.
[27] During the first Carrancista occupation of Mexico City
this house was sacked and stripped of all belongings. Not an
electric-light fixture, not a door-knob was left; even the
costly floorings were torn up. Street-cars run through the
Calles de Londres and ---- told me that for days the traffic
was interrupted by cars filled with the Creels' furniture and
works of art, which were left standing in front of the house.
One rather sighs for the fate of the Sèvres vases, and one
thinks involuntarily of the new verb in the Spanish language,
"_carranciar_," to steal like a Carrancista.
[28] _Diplomat's Wife in Mexico_, Feast of the Virgin of
Guadalupe.
XV
The first Christmas in Mexico City--Hearts sad and
gay--Piñatas--Statue to Christopher Columbus.
_Christmas Day, 1911._
My first thought was of my precious mother, _l'absence est le plus
grand des maux_. I went to midnight mass at the French church with
Madame Lefaivre. The _Adeste Fideles_ was beautifully sung, and I
thought of the millions of throats, all over the glad, sad earth,
singing the peace-bringing air.
I was so happy that of the people assembled around the tree three knew
you and spoke of you--Monsignore Vay de Vaya, and Mrs. Bedford and her
daughter. It was sad to have Aunt L. so near and yet so far.
The little party went off very well--tiny souvenirs for each. Elim
was overwhelmed with toys of the most elaborate kind, and I was
almost embarrassed at one time, as they came piling in. The only
children present, alas, were Jim Chermont, Mrs. C. R. Hudson's pretty
blond-haired little girl, the Japanese children, and little Harold
Hotchkiss. They played near the tree, mostly lying on their little
tummies, with their heels in the air, as near the lights as possible.
Allart sent the dearest miniature _charro_ costume as a present to
Elim, with a line that he was too sad to come; his beloved little
daughter is in Belgium.
In the morning I drove down to the San Juan Letran market and brought
back a great bundle of the gorgeous _flor de Noche Buena_ (Poinsettia),
most difficult to arrange on account of the thick, angular stems, and
not too trustworthy about keeping fresh, even here on its native heath.
But the red made lovely splashes of color in the rooms, which were
packed. It ended by my inviting every Anglo-Saxon in town, as well as
the diplomats, but I have noted that on festive occasions people like
being packed.
The punch, after an excellent receipt given me by Madame Bonilla,
was good and heady, as a punch should be, and the ambassador sent his
Belgian _maître d'hôtel_ to superintend the serving of the _refrescos_.
I know, however, that many a thought was far, and many a heart sad,
because of separations and vanishings.
At four o'clock to-day I light up the tree for the servants, and give
them their presents. They have _carte blanche_ to bring any of their
related young, so I imagine we will be fairly numerous. I then take
Elim to the Chermonts' tree, and we dine at the Kilverts' at Coyoacan,
driving out with the ambassador and Mr. Potter and Mr. Butler.
To-morrow Elim goes to a _piñata_ given by Madame Bonilla, childless
herself, but always so eager to make children happy. Wednesday to
another at Madame Clara Scherer's. I don't know how he will stand so
much "going out." He and Jim Chermont had quite a little "shindy"
toward the end of the afternoon yesterday, at which the tiny Jap
assisted with joy.
The _piñata_ is hung from the ceiling of the zaguan (vestibule entrance
into the _patio_). Each child in turn is blindfolded, presented with a
long stick, turned around, and then told to proceed. When a lucky hit
breaks the _piñata_, there is a stampede for the scattered treasure.
On Wednesday Madame Lefaivre has Monsignore to dinner; they had met
before in Paris at the Princesse de Polignac's.
Elim went to bed with a goat with sharp horns, from Madame Lie, a
whip, and nearly a brigade of soldiers, which I removed from him in the
"first sweet dreams of night."
_December 28th._
The _piñatas_ continue, one this afternoon at Mrs. C. R. Hudson's. They
appear to be quite exciting, for little darlings dream and moan about
them in their sleep.
Yesterday Elim was taking the papers out of the waste-paper basket
in the library and loading them onto one of the Christmas wagons.
He was clad in pale blue, looking inexpressibly fair and remote from
earthiness, when he raised those blue, blue eyes to me and said: "Mama,
_ich bin der Mistmann_" (I am the garbage-man). Talking of contrasts!
Now I must dress for the dinner at the French Legation for Monsignore.
He is looking very worn. These long world-journeys that he makes
for his emigration work take it out of him. From the founding of an
orphanage in Corea to the visiting of Hungarian dock laborers on the
Isthmus of Panama _is_ rather a stretch of nerves as well as space.