My dear Charles,--At Geneva there is, and was long before the arrival
of the League of Nations, a mountain. There are many mountains in
Switzerland, but Geneva's private mountain happens to be in France.
It is called "The Salève," a nasty name, but not of my choosing. If,
being in Geneva, you want to go up The Salève (as I personally do not)
you have first to get your passport off the police. The police are
always a little difficult about passports, but, if you mention the
name of The Salève, you will find them easier. You have next to obtain
the French _visa_ in order to get out of Geneva; then the Swiss _visa_
in order to get back again. Thus provided you have to compete with a
complicated and long-drawn process of trams and frontier controls;
even so you find yourself at the bottom and not at the top of The
Salève.
Being a busy (or shall we say idle?) man yourself, you will thus
understand the reasons of my policy; if the mountain will not come to
MAHOMED then MAHOMED and the mountain are best kept apart.
The inhabitants of Geneva have long been contriving, intriguing, I
will even say complotting, to get me up The Salève. My doctor, having
made me thoroughly interested in myself, got on to the subject of
exercise; when my banker passed from the subject of interest on
overdrafts to the advisability of my seeing the great Geneva view, it
was undoubtedly blackmail; and as for my dentist--well, you know what
dentists are and what mean advantages they take. But this one, I
think, over-stepped the limit when he allowed the crown of my tooth to
remind him of the crown of Mont Blanc; paused in fixing the former to
descant on the beauties of the latter; told me that from The Salève
I should get a better view of the latter than he, where he was, was
getting of the former; asked me almost simultaneously if he was
hurting me and if I had been up The Salève, and told me that I must go
up it and (which I took to mean "or") that he might have to hurt me.
That was the most critical moment in the whole Battle of The Salève;
the military critics are unanimous that I should have then said, "I
will go up," had I been in a position to say anything at all. Saved by
the gag, I have won the war against the Genevois.
I have taken the standpoint of the prophet, who, as you know, is not
without honour abroad--a prophet with the policy outlined above. When
a prophet of my sort decides on a policy, and that policy consists of
doing nothing, he takes a lot of shifting, even on the flat. And there
the matter and I remained, when there arrived from England, on or
about November 15th, a positive cloud of prophets, intent on the
League of Nations. The busiest figure among them is the secretary of
one of the delegates. Pretending to be my best friend he sought the
occasion of a heart-to-heart with me. I took it he wanted to discuss
Nations; it appeared he wanted to discuss mountains. I hoped he was
considering them generally in mass, possibly with the view of making a
League of them. He was thinking in the particular, and you can guess
what particular. He was beginning to think of wanting to go up It.
In an effective speech, which brought tears to my eyes but merely gave
him an opportunity to fill and light his pipe, I put all the "cons"
before him, particularly the passport part. As a man speaking with the
authority behind him of a world leagued together, he detailed all
the "pros." We must act together, he and I; he would assemble the
prophets, I the passports.
I refused to be bullied by him. He named some major prophets, whom I
should find it more difficult to withstand. His propaganda amongst
them apparently began at once. Mark the sequence of events:--
On Tuesday, November 16th, His Majesty's Minister-Plenipotentiary and
Envoy-Extraordinary in Switzerland assembled the British element to
dinner. I have reason to know that he had already been approached
by the secretary. The Crown of Mont Blanc was freely discussed and
curiosity was aroused as to the identity, the desirability, even the
approachability of the nearer mountain.
On Wednesday, November 17th, I ran into Lieut.-Col. His Highness the
JAM SAHIB of NAWANAGAR--"RANJI," in brief. He was standing at the
entrance of his hotel in significant meditation. The entrance of his
hotel looks upon The Salève and past it to the Crown of Mont Blanc.
And that was where he looked.
On Friday, November 19th, I found the Right Hon. G. N. BARNES walking
along the Quai de Mont Blanc in the fatal direction. His eyebrows
pointed relentlessly upward.
On Saturday, November 20th, Mr. BALFOUR arrived. The secretary began
to talk about a date for our excursion.
On Sunday, November 21st, I became involved in conversation with Lord
ROBERT CECIL in his room in his hotel. He moved towards the window,
and as he did so Armenia, Vilna and all the Powers that want to come
into the League and all the Powers that want to stay out of the League
faded from his mind, and he called attention to the Crown of Mont
Blanc and fixed his eagle eye upon the mole-hill in between.
On Monday, November 22nd, the secretary came to me and ordered me to
provide passports, duly _visaed_, for The Salève party--seven in
all, myself included. I told him that I would appeal direct to the
delegates themselves, with whom I had already done some defensive
propaganda on my own. He told me it was nothing to do with the
delegates; it was the delegates' ladies. Fool that I was, I had never
thought of them!
That night I wrote in my diary: "At Geneva there is a mountain. It is
called The Salève--a nasty name for a nasty mountain. On Saturday I
shall be on the top of it. I always knew that the League of Nations
would make trouble."
On Tuesday, November 23rd, I sent an emissary among the ladies to
persuade them that the summit of The Salève was loathsome. The
emissary succeeded in establishing this point by contrasting it
unfavourably with the Crown of Mont Blanc. The ladies thanked the
emissary cordially for her most interesting information and said they
would take steps to see the Crown of _Mont Blanc_ more nearly, even if
those steps had to be up The Salève.
That night I wrote in my diary: "For a year I have fought and won, but
on Saturday the Crown of Mont Blanc will witness my defeat, and the
whole range of the Alps will look on in silent contempt."
On Wednesday morning, November 24th, I met Mr. BALFOUR crossing the
Pont du Mont Blanc. He was looking at It with that dreamy smile of
his, which seems to laugh at the littleness of man and the futility of
his policies. That finished me.
On Wednesday night, November 24th-25th (read your paper to witness if
I lie), the Crown of Mont Blanc fell off ... I have left The Salève
where it is. What does it matter now?
Yours ever, Henry.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "HULLO, BROWN! FANCY RUNNING UP AGAINST YOU. HOW SMALL
THE WORLD IS, TO BE SURE!"
"Y-YES. TERRIBLY SMALL, ISN'T IT?"]
* * * * *
Enough Said.
"Sir Henry apologised at the close for having made the lecture
somewhat shorter than usual. Sir Donald ---- said that theirs was an
unspoken gratitude to Sir Henry for having done what he had been able
to do."--_Scots Paper._
* * * * *
"MADRID, Dec. 8.
"The Ministry of Public Works has announced that on January 15 next an
opportunity will be offered to foreign firms to secure orders for 119
railway engines and tenders needed by the Spanish railway companies.
Tenders must be handed personally by a duly accredited representative
of the firm making the offer."--_Times._
The engines may, however, be done up in a parcel and sent by post in
the usual manner.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Indian Servant (as telephone continues ringing)._
"OH, SAR, DO NOT BE SO ANGRY. THE SAHIB IS COMING VERY QUICKLY, I TELL
YOU."]
* * * * *