NE of the strangest phenomena of an epoch-making situation is the atmosphere of comparative calm and normality which up to the very moment of some actual physical clash often seems to surround those vitally interested. This is specially true of the American public. It refuses to take any impersonal question seriously until it absolutely has to do so. For all the threatening aspect of our relations with Spain and Europe prior to February 15, 1898, it was only when the news of the Maine catastrophe in Havana harbor reached them that the American people seemed to realize that a crisis had arrived in their foreign affairs.

In these early days of December, 1913,1 a similar condition exists. Millions of Americans daily discuss the Mexican question in a conversational tone, along with the tariff, currency legislation, the business outlook, and the weather. Beyond those officials and private citizens directly involved for some special reason, few seem to know or care about the acute danger for America which the Mexican embroglio involves.

It is not only that our present and future relationship with fourteen millions of fellow-Americans is at stake. That would be important enough. But it is

our prestige, influence, and amity with the wealthiest and most powerful nations of the civilized world which hang in the balance of our actions.

There is undeniably a certain sublimity about the confidence of most Americans in their nation's ability to solve world-wide problems offhand, to change the destiny of races, to uproot the foundations of distant empires, and to take care of itself under any and all conditions. Could the few anxious ones be assured that this is a confidence born of recognized superiority and springing from knowledge of the facts and figures, there would be none left to

worry.

To some, however, including no doubt the President and his advisers, it is abundantly clear that, whatever professions of satisfaction with the outlook may be served up for public consumption, the United States has been for some time, and is at this writing, facing one of the most delicate and complex international situations of its century and a third of national existence. What the actual outcome will be, and how the present administration at Washington will eventually acquit itself, no one may safely predict; but no one may deny that the consequences-and there will be "consequences," despite Ambassa

dor Page's cheery announcement to the contrary at a Thanksgiving banquet in London-of a mistake in policy or action by the President or by Congress will be grave in the extreme.

Such a situation imposes on the American citizen a twofold and somewhat difficult duty. He should, in general, hold up the hands of his Government in any international crisis. This is his patriotic obligation irrespective of political or other affiliations whatsoever, especially as long as his Government does not clearly violate some fundamental principle of justice, morality, or decency. He should do or say nothing to embarrass his Government in the exercise of its proper functions. But it is likewise his duty and his privilege to take part in the formation and crystallization of a sound popular sentiment, lacking the support of which no government in the world, in complex situations, may expect to achieve lasting suc

cess.

It must be remembered that even under a representative form of government like that of the United States it is impossible for the citizens at large to express at once or formally their views and wishes concerning any emergency that may arise, however momentous. The polls cannot be invoked, however grave the situation. Thus it may occur-and this is a defect in the actual practice of theoretically popular government-that a duly elected administration, in entire good faith and with the purest motives, in an international emergency may pursue a course diametrically opposed to the conscience, judgment, and wishes of the vast majority of the citizens. In the last four years a somewhat striking example of this phenomenon actually occurred in the United States in the case of a domestic issue.

Such clear mistakes as to the temper of the people are not apt to be repeated, particularly in matters wherein violent partizanship finds little play; but the great safeguard which any government has against similar errors lies in the fullest public discussion, provided always that the opinions expressed voice serious and sincere conviction, and are not couched in unfair, violent, or disrespectful language. Only by this means may those charged with the official responsibility of acting for the American nation in affairs

of moment hope to obtain the lasting support and approval of the people.

The very seriousness of the subject of Mexico's lapse into anarchy, the delicacy of the international complications which might at any time ensue, and the exercise of patriotism and common sense, should preclude all partizan utterances, and permit the American public to assume, until the contrary is clearly established, that the Government will act with wisdom.

In the belief that no possible embarrassment could arise from the opinions herein expressed, I venture to set down a brief review of the actions and policy of the United States during the past year in its relations with Mexico, and with other friendly powers deeply interested in that unfortunate country.

A little Mexican girl who has lived for some time in the United States was recently asked by an American whether she thought Uncle Sam should send an army to Mexico to straighten things out.

She replied:

"No. Why cannot this big country let our little country 'born itself' ?"

This feeling is characteristic of many Mexicans of all classes and political views. They sincerely believe that, whatever the cost in blood and treasure, they should be allowed to chasten themselves by fire without let or hindrance from the rest of the world.

Ten years ago Mexico was generally rated as a stable and prosperous nation, though many predicted an era of trouble when Porfirio Diaz should lose his grip. If the public of Europe and America, which for months has been aghast at the spectacle presented in that country, could be assured that its present pangs betoken the arrival of an heir in the form of a strong constitutional government, there would be more patience and less anxiety displayed.

But in the face of events and known conditions there, the most optimistic wellwisher of Mexico must feel his enthusiasm wane as the idea takes root in his mind that some outside agency will be compelled to lend a helping hand.

The attention of the American Government and public was sharply focused on Mexico last February, when street fighting on an extensive scale broke out in the capital. For some time every one

had been aware that President Madero was in serious difficulties. With the outbreak in his capital, however, he was suddenly driven to the last ditch. While While many in the United States had deplored his apparent inability to maintain peace and order throughout Mexico, he was a constitutional executive, and because of his personal traits and sincerity he had aroused considerable sympathy.

On February 18, 1913, two Mexican generals, Blanquet and Huerta, executed a coup d'état, arrested Madero and VicePresident Suarez, forced them to resign, and cast them into prison. With this event the aspect of Mexico's affairs took an immediate turn for the worse.

Still, the forcible overthrow of a constitutional ruler was no novelty in LatinAmerican history, and while the fire was getting unpleasantly near home, American public opinion was inclined to suspend judgment and await developments.

When, however, five days later, the news of the cowardly shooting to death of Madero and Suarez was flashed over the country, a veritable wave of horror and indignation swept the American people, and General Victoriano Huerta became the center of obloquy. Rightly or wrongly, he and his clique, who were in military control of Mexico City, were held responsible for the death, without pretense of trial, of the men under whose orders he, only a few days before, had been actively engaged in shooting down his own countrymen. The world exacts some slight stability and permanence in a man's loyalty and allegiance, and one whose conscience turns as lightly as did Huerta's from one side to another, between suns, as it were, may not expect to be credited with unselfish and patriotic motives.

Whether or not Huerta was guilty of even tacit consent to the assassination of his late civil chiefs, the fact remains that he had assumed actual military control of Mexico City, and that, knowing the situation and being aware of the risks and the threats concerning Madero and Suarez, two helpless political prisoners, he failed utterly to take adequate steps to protect their lives. On the contrary, the policy of cowardly assassination soon extended to others connected with the late President Madero.

For Huerta's neglect or failure in this matter, were he guilty of nothing more reprehensible, enlightened public opinion, which often recognizes sheer force, but despises cowardly brutality, will not easily forgive him.

These events took place at the close of President Taft's administration. For some time before there had been a certain exasperated public sentiment in the United States in favor of the President taking 'some positive action regarding Mexico, but he maintained, in the rather delicate and unusual circumstances, an admirable official patience and self-control. Certainly to have committed or compromised his early successor by any provocative act which might have brought on actual hostilities would have been unjustified, however strong the pretext might have appeared to be.

On March 4, 1913, President Wilson became the official exponent of the attitude of the United States toward Mexico. It very quickly appeared that he had made up his mind as to a line of official action. It may indeed be assumed, with some circumstantial evidence in support, that before he took office President Wilson had determined not to recognize Huerta even as President ad interim. For instance, shortly before March 4, according to uncontradicted press-reports, President Taft offered to send one of his cabinet members to acquaint President-elect Wilson with certain confidential reports regarding Mexican affairs, in order that the new President might not step into a tense situation wholly ignorant of its official status. On the same uncontradicted authority, President-elect Wilson declined the offer, thus indicating, if anything, that the stain of blood on Huerta's titles to office was sufficient in the new President's mind to determine that Huerta was unworthy to be recognized by the United States, whatever the expediency, consequences, or explanations might be. President Wilson's subsequent pronouncement on Latin-American affairs, though couched in general terms, fully sustains this view.

That, in adopting this stand toward Huerta, President Wilson correctly interpreted the sentiment and judgment of the American people, there can be no reasonable doubt. That his action was high