December 20th
Red Cross all the morning. It is wonderful, the stoicism of the Indian, where pain, hard pain, is concerned. A rather amusing incident occurred to-day. I asked a man who had had his hand shot off if it were a “Zapatista,” “Constitucionalista,” or “Huertista” deed. He raised the other paw to his forehead, answering with great exactitude, “No, señora, Vasquista.” I thought the Vasquista movement had long since died the usual unnatural death.
I see that the new Austrian minister to Mexico has arrived in the United States en route for his post, and the new Italian minister arrives at Vera Cruz to-morrow, after a wait of three weeks at Havana, for “our health,” not his. As is the custom, some one from the protocol has gone to meet him and bring him up to the city. The European Powers evidently mean to carry out their program independent of “watchful waiting.” It will be rather hard on our government when two more representatives of great nations present their credentials to the “Dictator.”
People say it is a pity that Huerta did not, on assuming power, declare formally that he would have a dictatorship for two years, until such time as the country was pacified, leaving out entirely any question of elections. However, that is “hindsight.” Apropos of Villa, I see one of the United States papers chirps: “Is a new sun rising in Mexico?” I have seen several rise and set on the reddest horizon imaginable, in my short Mexican day. As a butcher Villa cannot possibly be surpassed. But “who loves the sword shall perish by the sword,” is always true here. I spent the morning at the Red Cross, washing and bandaging dirty, forlorn Aztecs. This year they have the beds made according to our ideas. Last year they used the blankets next the body and the sheet on top—it “looked better.”
Calls and card-leaving all the afternoon, with Mme. Lefaivre, fortunately. We generally do the “bores and chores” together, chatting between addresses. Now it is half past nine. I am looking over one of Gamboa’s books. He was Minister for Foreign Affairs last August when Mr. Lind arrived, and drafted the famous and entirely creditable answer to “Mr. Confidential Agent.” He is sometimes called the Zola of Mexico.