Mexico, from Diaz to the Kaiser

Front matter

Mexico From Diaz to the Kaiser

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THIRTEEN YEARS OF A BUSY WOMAN'S LIFE

Preface

The object and aim of this book is to try and disentangle the knotted Mexican skein of the last ten years, and to show the present political, commercial, and financial position of Mexico with its future possibilities. Mexico is daily entering the world-map of progression, and is destined to play an important part.

Contents

CHAP.

I. — Before the Downfall : General Sketch

II. — Developments and Madero

Chapter I • Before The Downfall — General Sketch

NO country has made history more rapidly or more dramatically than Mexico since 1910. So strange and so varied are the facts that they read almost like a fairy tale.

The fall of Mexico hit the world. Mexico was a land of chaos till Diaz came — Mexico returned to chaos when Diaz left.

The country had been so prosperous, one of the most prosperous lands on the earth, for so long under his sway, that millions of foreign capital were locked up in its securities. Year by year a state of stability had been built up, good honest solid return on capital, so that every nation had money safely invested in Mexico under Diaz.

Who could have foreseen that the revolutionary spirit, which four or five years later was to overthrow China and Russia without bloodshed, would whirl Mexico into a field of gore ?

I

Life is a jumble of possibilities, probabilities and impossibilities.

Man may accept the first, overcome the second, and scorn the third. According to his grit he makes his own success, according to his steadfastness of purpose he impresses those about him, and according to his ethics and ideals, he builds up his own future and that of those dependent on him.

Life cannot remain in the present. It is always hurrying on, or stopping through death. To stand still is to be passed by others on the moving- stairway of existence.

Having written the authentic life of that great ruler, General Porfirio Diaz, in 1906, it seems fitting that the story of that beautiful, romantic land of natural wealth and varied climate should be continued from the close of the former volume,* that is from Diaz' seventh election to the Presidency on December 1st, 1904, up to August, 1917.

The downfall of Diaz was the greatest calamity Mexico has ever known.

But, in our present lightning days, each and all of them rushing past aflame with historical incidents, let us glance for a moment at the events of Diaz' earlier times.

How great was Don Porfirio — born on September 15th, 1830, of humble parents, and having an Indian grandmother — people on the western side of the Atlantic have but a scant idea. Not only was he

* " Porfirio Diaz, seven times President of Mexico" (published 1906).

Photo bv Cox.

A shiine, showini^ moss and creepers on the trees.

a man of the strongest character and will, but in every sense a gentleman. He refused, to his mother's grief, to enter the Church, being bitten at an early age with military ambition ; and so it was that his whole life became a story of romance and adventure, until at last he reigned over Mexico with all the power of a King, a Pope and a Tsar. The poor little half-Indian lad became a supreme ruler, and brought his country to a high pitch of success and wealth.

Both Diaz and Benito Juarez, the two makers of the modern State, were natives of the almost tropical Oaxaca Valley, about two hundred and thirty miles south-east of Mexico City. The latter, but for whose spade-work Diaz could not have attained so much, was a strong Liberal and an intense hater of Clericalism. Diaz fought for Juarez' LaAvs of Reform against the Catholic Church, and also helped to make him President of Mexico. Juarez established his Government, overthrew the Church, and received recognition by the United States in 1859. These two strong men, though they quarrelled eventually, were for the greater part of their lives warm personal friends ; and to these two personalities Mexico owes her strength to-day.

But if this remarkable pair were the makers of modern Mexico, the first decisive stroke for freedom from the Spanish yoke had been dealt long before — to wit by the patriot-priest Miguel Hidalgo in 1810. To this day the anniversary of that blow is commemorated by the President ringing the Bell of Independence from the balcony of the National Palace in the capital.

Porfirio Diaz was, to begin with, a lawyer, and the first vital step of his Hfe was his Joining the revolt for reform against the Dictator, General Santa Anna, in 1853. Thus, at the age of twenty-three, began one of the most notable varied careers on record. One of the first adventures of this born leader of men was his communication with his former teacher, Perez, who was imprisoned in a turret of the Convent of Santo Domingo in Oaxaca. To get into touch with Perez, Porfirio and his brother Felix clambered to a neighbouring roof. With a rope round his body, Porfirio slid down fifteen feet of wall to the prison window, and, dangling in the air, talked with Perez. The prisoner's guard, consisting of fifty men under a captain, would have shot him on sight — but on three successive nights he 'accomplished this daring feat.

For years the fighting between Juarez and the Reactionaries continued. Diaz — always in the thick of it, building up a rapid reputation for combined dash and cool-headedness — obtained his colonelcy at thirty by defeating the Reactionary leader, Cobos, at Oaxaca in 1860. He was repeatedly wounded, and for a year and eight months carried a bullet in his body. Success strengthened ambition : he set himself firmly to oust revolution from the land. His victory over General Marquez at Jalatlaco (August 13th, 1861) was rewarded by a brigadier-generalship. By the end of the War of Reform he was a full General.

Then came the French hopeless invasion, with their setting up of the unhappy Austrian " puppet- Emperor " and dreamer Maximihan, whose attempt to rule Mexico ended in his tragic execution at QuerStaro (1867).

Diaz and Maximilian never met.

All through the French occupation Diaz' life was one round of hairbreadth escapes, desperate fighting and imprisonments. At the great defeat of the French at Puebla, May 5th, 1862, one of the proudest of Mexican anniversaries, Diaz was second in command. During the French siege of Puebla (called the " City of the Angels ") in the following year he covered himself with distinction, especially in the most bloody fighting of all — that which attended the attack and defence of the Convent of Santa Ines. The French assaulting column, emerging from a dwelling known as the Meson de la Reja, stormed with desperate valour. Beaten back again and again, they yet again came on with cheers. The not less desperate Mexican defence slowly weakened, until at last there remained as their sole holding-point the roofs of some low rooms above the boiling street fight — and these exposed to direct fire. The position cried for forlorn hope methods. Diaz, collecting a few volunteers, dashed across the roofs and brought to bear a murderous fire upon the storming column. It shook, wavered, fell back, littering the street with hundreds of corpses, and leaving seven officers and a hundred and thirty men in the hands of the defenders. That night brought, by mutual consent, an armistice of two hours for the removal of the dead and wounded from the sunscorched streets and ruins. Puebla was only surrendered by General Ortega after a most gallant defence, on May ,17th, 1863, from shortage of provisions.

Diaz, on the night before General Ortega and his staff were to be escorted to Vera Cruz as prisoners, made another of his marvellous escapes.

Contriving somehow to exchange his uniform for a universally worn red blanket, he slipped away. He had to face the officer on guard, Captain Galland, but calmly saluted him without rousing his suspicion, and so gained the street in safety. His escape was soon discovered, but, luckily, a friend managed to give him temporary harbourage ; and later, with much wit and courage, he and another officer, General Berrioz^bal, were smuggled out of the town. After wandering all night among the mountains, they found themselves back in Puebla, with the French r^veill6 ringing in their ears. Slipping off again, they were discovered and pursued, but, after more thrilling adventures, succeeded in getting into Mexico City.

In '65 Diaz once more found himself a prisoner, this time at the Convent de la Campaiiia — and yet again achieved one of his astonishing coups. General Count Thun, entering the prison, had the cells closely shuttered, and the guards doubled, and ordered the prisoners to be visited every hour day and night.

This time, presumably, even the audacious Diaz should have been nonplussed — but he was not. By clever planning he had contrived to have a horse, with a servant and guide, kept in hiding for him at a certain house. Among his prison companions were two old friends who, eager to serve him, proceeded to entangle the prison officers in a game of cards that prevented any tiresome promenading of the corridors. The coast thus temporarily cleared, Diaz rolled three ropes surreptitiously obtained up into a ball, put another rope, with a sharpened dagger, into his kitbag — and waited.

When the bell sounded for silence in the prison, Diaz slipped out on to an open balcony near the roofs, the night being moonless. He flung three of his ropes up on to the roof, then threw the last over a projecting stone gutter, scarcely visible in the feeble light. After testing his support, he climbed to the roof and secured his other ropes. The passage of the roofs, commanded by a sentinel, was acutely dangerous. Crawling on hands and knees, stopping to examine every loose tile, he traversed two sides of the courtyard. Sheet lightning played across the sky at intervals. Finding himself at last under the protection of a wall, he could rise to his feet ; but the sloping stonework was a new danger, and he was within an ace of falling into the depths below.

To reach his proposed point of descent into the street of San Roque, Diaz had to pass the house of the chaplain, who had but lately, by denouncing them, secured the execution of some prisoners attempting an escape. Supreme caution was needful.

Breathless, he crossed the chaplain's house just as one of its inhabitants entered, fresh from the theatre. The man, humming a tune gaily and holding alighted taper in his hand, actually moved towards the crouching fugitive, but happily, just before it was too late, went back into the house. When some torturing minutes had passed without further threat of discovery, the hunted Diaz ventured on to the chaplain's roof and safely attained the San Roque corner.

At this corner was a stone statue of San Vincente Ferrer, upon which he had counted for securing his rope. The saint's figure tottered at a mere touch, yet, precarious or not, it was the only anchoring point available. Utilizing the least unsteady part, the pedestal, Diaz committed himself to the rope and dropped down the side of the house furthest from the main street. Alack, at the second floor his feet missed their grip upon the wall — he slipped down on the garden side and landed in a pigsty.

It was necessary, not only to find a new hiding-place, but to pacify the squealing pigs before ensconcing himself. At length, after climbing a low wall, beneath which passed a watching gendarme, Diaz dropped, sweating and exhausted, into the street. So without further mishap he gained the house where horse, servant and guide were awaiting him. The little party mounted, cleverly evaded the cavalry patrol, trotted through the open city gate, and galloped wildly off into the night.

On the morning of September 21st they reached the Mexico river, with the Imperial forces not far off.

The servant and guide, stripping their horses, went over in a boat ; Diaz swam the river, one hand resting on his horse's mane. At Coayuca, where a festival was going forward, the chief of police {jeje politico) recognized, but did not betray Diaz. Hardly was he clear of the town, when an Imperial squadron fell suddenly upon it. But the fugitives galloped off across country — and now, at long last, were free.

These minor adventures are dwelt upon as emphasizing the great soldier's early amazing pluck and resourcefulness.

Three days later this just-freed prisoner, compact as he was of energy and resolution, embarked upon a desperate campaign against the Imperialists — the French and Mexican supporters of Maximilian — which lasted a hundred days and involved four victories over the invaders. And thereafter his life continued to be one of brilliant soldiership — in the course of which the Emperor made overtures to him, only to find the Mexican General incorruptible — varied with Monte Cristo adventure. General Bazaine, the chief pillar of the Imperial throne, took command against Diaz as being the most powerful opponent the French had, but the latter's successful campaign went steadily on its way until finally Bazaine and his army evacuated Mexico in 1867.

In July, that same year, Diaz married his first wife, Delphina Ortega y Reyes. Then, strange to say, he exchanged triumphant soldiership for the study, and some quiet years of agriculture.

There had been fifty-two dictators, emperors, presidents and rulers in fifty-nine years.

The bad administration of the country, threatening a relapse into its former state, recalled him to active life and a new sequence of adventures. The years between 1867 and 1872 marked his final breach with Juarez. These two strong patriots were in most respects dissimilar, but both went in daily peril of their lives, and for years underwent every hardship and privation in the struggle for their country's freedom.

On July 18th, 1871, Juarez, President of Mexico, died, his office falling to Lerdo de Tejada, the failure of whose Government soon plunged unhappy Mexico once more into the slough of unrest.

The South and East were soon in a state of revolution against Lerdo, General Hernandez, the leader of the rising, marching into Oaccaca on January 27th, 1876. Hernandez took charge of the Government of the State, and one of his first acts was to make Porfirio Diaz Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Reorganization. The revolution spread like wildfire through half a dozen other southern States. Generals Diaz and Gonzales, who had found a brief refuge in America, crossed the Rio Grande from Brownsville, Texas, with forty stalwarts, to take charge of the revolutionists in the North.

Lerdo de Tejada, confronted by this rapid development of trouble, acted with decision. Diaz and his forty stalwarts moved southwards, his force multiplying

^'loto by Ravell.]

The beast of burden.

Benito Juarez.

[To face p. ii.

twentyfold on the way. He was soon strong enough to attack Matamoros, a place a little above the mouth of the Rio Grande and the key to the north-east, held by a Lerdist garrison. On the anniversary of his storming of Puebla he assaulted and captured the position, taking 700 prisoners and 18 cannon.

But Lerdo, now thoroughly alarmed, put 6,000 men, under Escobado, into the field against him. Diaz, unable to meet so large a force in open battle, scattered his own troops and made his way almost alone to New Orleans, at that time packed with exiles from Mexico.

The return of Diaz to Mexico, to take supreme command of the Army of the Revolution, forms another thrilling chapter in his career of adventure.

A little later a certain Cuban, Dr. Torres by name and style, embarked on the steamship City of Havanna, purporting to make a voyage to Vera Cruz. The ship stopped near Matamoros, where the pleasantness of the cruise was broken by an irruption of Mexican troops, many of them the released prisoners of Diaz, who, after their capture, had been unable to keep charge of them. These ex-prisoners were a sharpeyed lot, and soon it became plain from their bearing that they discerned in the innocent Dr. Torres their former conqueror, Porfirio Diaz. Torres-Diaz was in a tight corner. He must get ashore in Mexico somehow, yet the moment he landed he would, of course, be found out and thrown into prison. What was to be done ?

The City of Havanna had brought up far out from the shore. In the distance, quays showed their twinkhng lights. Escape must be at best but a forlorn hope ; but Diaz, having the deck to himself for a space, boldly set his mind and will to the venture.

Silently, cannily, he slipped overboard and struck out for the shore.

Even the iron nerve of Diaz, which had served him well a hundred times over, must — alone as he was in these shark-haunted waters, with a severe swimming bout before him — have been tried as seldom before. There was a prospect of being chased, furthermore, and hardly had he made a dozen strokes when this proved to be imminent. A sudden turmoil on board the ship proclaimed the discovery of his flight.

In haste a boat was manned and lowered.

There remained only to make a supreme effort. The swimmer called upon and used the last ounce of his strength — in vain. Bare feet and hands stand no chance in a race against long-bladed oars. The boat gained upon, overtook him ; its crew dragged him from the water and quickly put him aboard the ship. There was no more attempt at disguise. The Lerdists, his lately beaten enemies, had got him — and the question of his being shot was a foregone conclusion. Even so, there was a last chance — and the shrewd brain did not miss it. The vessel was American : Diaz claimed protection under the Stars and Stripes — and won it. On board the ship he was a free man ; but only till their arrival at Vera Cruz. Death was postponed — no more.

The passage, covering some days, afforded time enough for the nimble brain to evolve a new plan, the purser being induced to connive at and forward it. The swimming attempt had proved hopeless, but . . .

There was an alarm on board that night. The watch on deck had heard a splash : a Hfebuoy was found missing : Diaz had again disappeared. The Captain, after ordering a minute search for the lost passenger, drew up a formal report that Diaz had gone overboard. The presumption was confirmed a few days later by the discovery on the seashore of a lifebuoy marked «S'.*S'. Havanna. Certainly Diaz had perished.

On the ship's arrival at Vera Cruz the Mexican Commandante, chagrined at the loss of so valuable a prize, ordered a second inspection. While the vessel was being rummaged from stem to stern it was guarded by boats full of soldiers. But the dead man failed to come to life again ; failed even when some Lerdist officers rested from their labours on a certain sofa-seat, which nobody thought of prizing open.

Yet here in this box of a prison the supposed dead man, cared for by the purser, had been cooped up for several days and nights, half-stifled. The Lerdist officers, actually sitting upon him, solaced themselves with a game of cards.

There remained the problem of getting clear of the ship, still closely guarded.

Here again the devoted purser stepped in, and managed to get Diaz ashore disguised as a sailor. As usual, further adventures and evasions awaited the fugitive, but eventually he turned up safe and sound hundreds of miles further south at his native Oaxaca.

The Lerdists were still the stronger party, but the Porfiristas (Diaz party) met and defeated them in open battle, November 16th, at Tecoac, 3,000 prisoners falling to the conquerors. Diaz hereupon marched straight for the capital, and drew up his army of 12,000 men at the famous shrine of Guadalupe, twelve miles out.

Next day, November 23rd, 1876, he made his triumphal entry into the city, and rode up to the palace in which he was to reign so long, and from whose balcony he was to ring for many a year the commemorative bell of Hidalgo.

This entry of Diaz was the more notable and striking in that the district was now packed with twenty or thirty thousand pilgrims from all parts of Mexico, on account of the coming anniversary fete of the country's patron saint, the Lady of Guadalupe. Diaz, the proclaimed hero, had his name mingled with the prayers of an adoring multitude.

The writer has heard many thrilling descriptions from those who witnessed this famous passage from the shrine of Guadalupe into Mexico City.

Riding in front of his Staff, in full view of the populace, and followed by a large contingent of his troops, Diaz made a fine figure in his general's uniform. He sat his horse, erect, with head raised high — a man of forty-six, in the full flower of his health and strength, crowned with hard-won victory.

Rurales, the only body of soldiers of the kind in the world.

Native police.

Out from the city crowds came to meet him, greeting him with cheers — in some cases with hisses. He passed on, unmoved by the varying clamour for or against him. More and more friendly grew the shouts as he left Guadalupe, with its little wayside shrines, and drew towards the great square of the Zocolo. The best of the Mexican populace was gathered upon the Plaza in front of the Cathedral. By the time the cavalcade reached this every dissentient voice had become drowned in one multitudinous roar of welcome. The excitable Spanish-Mexican blood surged to men's heads : they tossed up hands and hats, frantically waved red rebozos (blankets). The stoical General, dignified and unmoved, pausing now and again to touch his sombrero in salute, rode calmly on to the Palace. Not until nightfall did the shouting die away.

It was a strange night for Diaz, left alone with his thoughts. A lofty point indeed had his almost incredible career touched. The self-educated son of an innkeeper, the rough-and-tumble fighter, ignorant of statecraft as he was even of the Castilian tongue, was to undertake the headship of a turbulent State whose whole past was one long memory of bloodshed and misrule.

Although unassisted at the beginning by his own adherents, and despite several attempts to assassinate him, Diaz quickly succeeded as a ruler — and a new era for Mexico was opened.

Yet behind him lay a long line of failures : the remaking of a nation, already honeycombed with corruption, was no light matter. He made up his mind to do or die. His success in lifting the country out of the slough was a miracle of achievement, and the reason for his triumph was patent. For the first time in Mexico's history, her inexpressibly troubled history, he brought scrupulous honesty into every corner of public administration. Corruption in every form went down before Diaz. He toiled, and restored, not only national credit, but internal peace. He could and did use stern measures. He converted bandits into rurales, a splendid body of military jDolice. He created railroad after railroad, harbours, canals, tunnels, drains, an improved system of education — in a word, converted a hopelessly battered into a conspicuously flourishing State.

To turn for a brief moment from Diaz' public to his more personal and intimate life.

Despite his success, his popularity and power, the President — after the death of his first wife, Delphina y Reyes — stood absolutely alone. He confided in no man, planned his future life, and dreamed great dreams in solitude. But at the right hour Diaz met, fell desperately in love with, and in the spring of 1883 took as his second wife. Carmen de Rubio — she being a well-born and beautiful girl of fourteen, and he a man of fifty-three. Without doubt Madame Diaz, or Carmelita, as the Mexicans called her, was of inestimable help to her husband. As a woman of immense tact,

Photo by Valetto.]

Madiune Di iz, wife of the President of Mexico.

[To face p. i6.

fond of society, and mixing freely with ambassadors and foreigners, she learned by personal contact the feelings of other countries. Gradually but completely — and always for good — she influenced his life ; they remained chums and friends, aye, veritable lovers, through their long married years till his death in 1915. Of high birth and liberal education, Madame Diaz in manner and figure somewhat resembles our Queen Alexandra. She is of medium height and pretty figure, Avith neat hands and feet and lovely eyes ; and in looks was always said to be like the beautiful, dark-eyed Empress Eugenie in her earlier days.

President Diaz himself was of medium height, solidly built, with soldierly bearing and courtly manners. He had deep-set eyes, with heavy eyebrows, a bright complexion, and a deep, melodious voice. Although somewhat silent by nature, and serious by habit, he had a keen sense of humour and thoroughly enjoyed a joke.

With his great neighbour, the United States, his relations were untroubled. Long ago, as we have seen, he had paid one surreptitious visit to the States. His next visit, years later, was another affair ; one of magnificent receptions and warm welcomes. He and his young wife, journeying by sea, were met at New Orleans by a private train, sent by courtesy of the President of the United States, and everywhere feted. They spent three days at Washington, and at Chicago had what Diaz described as " a beautiful reception."

*

When General Porfirio Diaz first came into power in Mexico, in November, 1876, the country was in very much the same troubled condition as at Easter, 1914, about thirty- eight years later, when the United States were concentrating both their troops and fleet and preparing for intervention. Excitement was in the air, and every man's hand was raised against his fellow. Law and order were again unknown.

Once more history was repeating itself.

Revolution had succeeded revolution in '76. Guerrilla, or bandit warfare, civil war, every ill that could befall a distracted country had been rife for half a century. Chaos reigned, and muddle was paramount in every department of the State.

It is quite extraordinary to notice the similarity of those days, which seem so remote after thirty-five years' experience of settled government and order, and the days of misrule three short years after Diaz left the country which he had dominated so long.

Mexico's story is really one of bloodshed, murder and horror of every kind, from the dark days when Cortez landed and carried massacre and devastation among a harmless and cultured people, through the centuries of the Spanish domination, and through all the years which witnessed the early struggles of the Mexican people to set up a stable system of self-government. Then with Diaz came a period of wise rule, of extraordinary strength and perception, and finally out of poverty and discredit national prosperity evolved.

A new Mexico was born under Diaz.

Five-and-thirty years is a generation, and everyone hoped that the child of prosperity would outlive the old age of misrule. It was not to be. Diaz wielded a very strong hand because Diaz knew his country. The outside world often blamed him for severity ; but the outside world did not know Mexico. Upon the downfall of Diaz followed the downfall of his country, and over again the murderous scenes of civil war were enacted, there being no man strong enough to rise up and quell them as the lusty old General had done.

It is better to work and drop than be idle and live.

Chapter II

C0RT:^Z landed from Spain at Vera Cruz in 1519, to conquer Mexico for Spain. It was a dangerous coast to land upon in those days. The United States four hundred years later anchored their ships at Vera Cruz in April, 1914, in one of the finest harbours in the world, and so brought war into a country that for thirty-five years General Porfirio Diaz had kept in peace. What could American soldiers do in the tropical heat, if they had to march to the centre of Mexico from either Tampico or Vera . Cruz? Both ports are tropical, and are especially trying in May, June and July. The first railway opened in Mexico runs from Vera Cruz to the capital. Leaving the latter at an altitude of 8,000 feet the line rises to 10,000 feet, before descending the mountains to the plains of Vera Cruz, and in the descent the gradients in many places are as high as 4 per cent., and some even higher. This part of the line has been justly called " a system of curves linked together." The coaches lie right over to get round some of the curves. In parts it is very like that beautiful San Paulo road in Brazil. Both lines were built by Englishmen, and even to-day remain among the finest engineering feats in the world.

Tampico is nearly 2,000 miles from New Orleans and on the route to Mexico City. There are fifteen miles that are as fine as anything in the Rockies. The twists and curves are so great that the engine and the last car form a horseshoe at times. At other times six tracks are visible along the mountain side on which the train has to wind its way, and the descent is so steep it actually makes some people sick.

From Tampico to Mexico City may not be as grand a journey as from Vera Cruz to the latter, but it is more lovely as it passes for a greater length through tropical vegetation. All along the sides of the hills, right high up in the thickly wooded mountains, are patches of bright emerald green sugar-cane. The entire produce is carried down the precipices in baskets on the backs of the Indians. Bamboos wave in the air, amid wild vegetation of cactus, tobacco, pepper and castor-oil trees. Huts of vines and palm, thatched together, form the homes of the people. Tampico waters are full of tarpon, " the king of fish ; " the coast-line is low and sandy. The Panuco river is half a mile wide ; the district is the greatest oil-producing centre in the world. These railways, harbours and oil-fields were practically all constructed under Diaz.