December 14th
My poor woman with the four children returned yesterday, having got to the end of the money I gave her a few days ago. They didn’t look quite as prosperous (?) as they did the first time I saw them. The mother asked for five dollars for a fruit license and two dollars to get the fruit. I gave it to her, whereupon she knelt down in the street, baby in arms, the three other little girls following suit, and asked for my blessing. When I put my hand on her head I felt the tears come to my eyes. I suddenly saw in one woman all the misfortunes of the women of this land, separation, destitution, ravishments,—all the horrors flesh is heir to.
In the evening we dined at the British Legation. Colonel Gage is most agreeable and brought a lot of outside news. Like all military visitors, I suppose he is hoping to happen on a “scrap.”
Am waiting for the auto. Elim and I go out to the del Rios’ garden at Tlalpam for a picnic; the del Rios are in Europe. The day is heavenly beyond compare and the Ajusco hills (in which the Zapatistas operate) are soft and blue in the near distance. We all miss Mr. James Brown Potter very much. He was the witty, unfailing life of all those picnics of my first Mexican visit.
Villa has just set up a somewhat uncertain dictatorship in Chihuahua, in which state he, so to speak, graduated in banditry. He began his public killing career not too badly, according to the story, by shooting a man for seducing his sister. It was probably the best act of his life. He is now in the prime of life and “ready for anything.” Even in Diaz days, Villa was a proscribed bandit; but with a few followers, well-mounted and knowing every trail and water-hole in the country, he was uncatchable. He subsequently went over to Madero. The women flee the towns that he and his men enter. I suppose there is no crime that he has not committed, no brutality toward wounded, sick, and prisoners and women. With it all, he may be the heaven-born general that some assert, but God help Mexico if he is! In Chihuahua, Luis Terrazas, one of the nephews of Enrique Creel (who was ambassador to Washington, Minister for Foreign Affairs, etc.), is being held for five hundred thousand dollars ransom. Mr. C. came to see N. the other day, looking very much put out. N. thought he perhaps reflected that five hundred thousand dollars was a large sum, and was wondering if it was worth it.
However, it is always convenient to suppose that people held for ransom will get along all right, even if the money isn’t forthcoming. N. promised Mr. C. that through the most indirect of channels he would have it brought to Villa’s attention that he’d better be careful on account of unfavorable impressions in the United States. One wonders and wonders where Villa, Aguilar, Zapata, and all the brigands get their endless guns and ammunition. Of course the foreign Powers think we supply it or let it be supplied.
Intervention in Mexico is an accomplished fact, it would almost seem, though not a shot has been fired by us. And what is done cannot be undone.