February 3d. Evening
A busy day—as you can well imagine. N. had to inform the various legations. I went down-town with him for luncheon, a thing I never do. We met the Spanish minister driving up the Paseo in his victoria—a pathetic figure. He has had so much worry and heartbreak over the situation and has been so helpless in the face of the disasters which have befallen his nationals that he is beyond surprise. Upon hearing the news he merely made a tired gesture of acquiescence. To him the raising of the embargo was, doubtless, only one more inexplicable thing. Von Hintze was out, and we next stopped at the French Legation, just opposite the German. Ayguesparsse, the secretary, possessed of one of the most elegant silhouettes in the world, was more than polite, but quite impassive, as he came out with Nelson to speak a word to me. He is married to a handsome young Mexican—the sister of Rincon Gaillardo, Marqués de Guadalupe—whose time, strength, money, and life, if need be, are at the disposition of his country.
When we got to the restaurant in Plateros, the most public and alarm-allaying spot we could think of, the newspaper men assailed N. with questions. The “story” that they are after is what the relations of Huerta would be to N. and the Embassy, and they announce that they were not going to let the chargé out of their sight.
After lunch, at which Mr. S. joined us, we went to the British Legation. N. gave Sir L. the news, while I walked in the garden with Lady C., both of us wilted, with nerves on edge. I came home, rested for a few minutes, and then dressed, and went out to fulfil my afternoon program of calls, turning up late for bridge at Madame Simon’s. She asked me squarely, though in the politest of French, “What is your government doing?” I saw many people during the afternoon, but, apart from her greeting, there was no word of politics. I think the matter is too distasteful to the public to be discussed with any one like myself, where care in the expression of feeling is necessary.
I drove home with Lady C., who was quietly aghast at the situation, just in time to get into a tea-gown and down-stairs for dinner. In the salon Seeger and the Graux (who leave to-morrow for Vera Cruz and New York) were waiting. N. telephoned that he was at the Palace, just going in to see Huerta. You can imagine that we had a lively dinner of surmises. He returned barely in time to say good-by to the Graux, and after they left we sat up late to talk over the appalling situation.
Sir Lionel was with the President when N. got there. From the violent sounds coming through the half-opened door, N. thought that the old man was at last losing patience and control, and prepared himself for the worst. However, when N. finally went in Huerta was perfectly calm and had never been more friendly. He never mentioned President Wilson’s name, and concerning the raising of the embargo quietly remarked that it would not change matters much, but would merely give a recognized name to the smuggling over the border that had been going on for three years. He kept repeating that the future would justify him; that he had had nothing to do with the killing of Madero; that the attitude of the administration toward him was simply “a persecution.” N. said he never flinched. He terminated the interview by saying that he greatly appreciated N.’s public as well as private courtesies, and that he was “very necessary to the situation,” whereupon he ordered copitas, and the embargo question was dismissed.
Apropos of copitas, while we were talking N. was rung up to hear that an English woman reporter and Wallace, the cine man, sent us from the State Department, had been put in prison for trying to take a photograph of Huerta at the Café Colon, while he was taking his copita. They were both released at a late, or rather an early hour, and I think they richly deserved their experience. Huerta’s reputation for drinking is very much exaggerated.
The hall, stairway, and chancery were black with reporters all the evening, until one o’clock. It has been a long day of responsibility, excitement, and fatigue.