Iturbide's army was called "the army of the _Tres Garantías_," the colors then running horizontally from the staff. After Iturbide was shot they changed the stripes to the present vertical arrangement. From my rather cursory glance at Mexican history it would seem that governments have always come into power here through revolutions. It seems the normal thing, the inevitable, preordained way for men to come into power, but, that being the case, they ought to take it a little more quietly. Of course, for a pure Aryan like myself it's startling, it's disconcerting to a degree![22]
Late yesterday afternoon ex-President de la Barra, accompanied by his family and the staff of his mission, left for Vera Cruz to take _La Champagne_ for France, _en route_ to Rome. There was a great demonstration at his departure. The _Corps Diplomatique_ was out in full force, and all Mexico besides, it seemed, as we got down to the station, around which mounted soldiery with difficulty kept a free space, pressing the crowd back to let in the carriages and motors, one by one.
The most interesting thing about it all, to me, was the group that at one time formed itself on the rear platform of the special train--President Madero, ex-President de la Barra, and Orozco, the military genius of the moment, the type of the trio so distinct as they stood there. Orozco is a very tall man, head and shoulders over the other two, the northern Mexico ranchero type--prominent nose, high cheek bones, with a dark mustache that doesn't at all conceal a cruel, determined mouth.
De la Barra, international, immaculately dressed, suave, smiling, was entirely the diplomat departing on a special mission, showing no trace of the difficult and anxious months of office.
Between these two stood the President of but a few hours, with his broad, high, speculative forehead, his dreamy, impractical eyes and kindly smile--"one man with a dream at pleasure."
Madero is naturally generous toward his enemies, of which the crops, however, hourly increase. He is averse to shedding blood, but I sigh for the difficulties of his position, between various upper and nether mill-stones, with the destinies of fifteen millions of people like to be ground between.