CHAPTER IV
THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS CONFERENCE (MARCH 1919)
I have written a great deal about the annoyance and discomfort to which the traveller abroad was put in the days immediately following the Armistice; I have said nothing about the performance which had to be gone through before the journey could actually be begun. Some day sanity will be restored to the government of these affairs; but as a matter of purely historic interest a record of this business will be very amusing.
The Executive Committee of the Union of Democratic Control (of Foreign Politics) was holding its weekly meeting, when a letter arrived from Dr. de Jong van Beek en Donk, the secretary of the Dutch Peace Society, inviting the Union to send delegates to the League of Nations Conference which it was proposed to hold in Berne early in March, 1919. It was strongly felt that no opportunity of forming international connexions should be missed. One member after another was pressed to go. Nobody but myself appeared to be free to do so. I had only just returned from Switzerland and the International. The journey home had been full of discouragement and fatigue. I was asked if I would very much mind the trouble and weariness of a second long journey soon. I said I had not the slightest objection to the journey, but that the thought of the passport business was rather daunting. It was agreed that someone in the office should do all that for me, and on that understanding I agreed to go.
But the condition was not fulfilled. It could not be. Passport formalities are personal matters and only in the rarest circumstances can they be gone through by proxy. I had immediately to set about the task myself, and a terrific task it was. The date was already February 27. The Conference was timed to begin on March 3. Two days of that time I knew would be consumed in the journey itself. That left two for the business of preparation. I knew no human being at that time who had accomplished this in less than a week. Generally three weeks was looked upon as a fairly satisfactory minimum of time for this work.
The following was the routine for a would-be traveller to Switzerland in the early days of 1919.
To get a passport you filled in a long form requiring answers to all sorts of impertinent questions about yourself and your immediate ancestors, including offensive queries about your personal appearance! You had to attach to the form a photograph of a particular sort and size. This had to be endorsed, and your passport signed by a magistrate or some other worthy person who knew you, and who would guarantee your character and the truthfulness of your replies. Two other persons of recognized social position and personal rectitude had to permit the use of their names as guarantors. You handed the completed passport form to the clerk at the passport office, and were generally told to call again in three or four days. The urgency of my case inspired me to enclose a letter to the chief passport officer in the fond hope of considerate treatment; which to my surprise was granted to me. I remember that my appeal fell into the hands of an extremely considerate and courteous official.
If you were prepared to wait on the chance that your business would come soon, you were given a number which was called out in its turn. By sitting incredible hours without food, unless you were wise enough to bring sandwiches, it was just possible that your number might be called unexpectedly and your business gone through quickly. Most people grew impatient, or could spare only an hour or two and left. They had to take a new number and a similar chance next day; with probably similar ill-luck. It was of the first importance to “stick it out.” Then when the magic number you held was called, you paid your fee of five shillings and went your way.
After you received your passport you proceeded to the Swiss Legation for a visum. You had to fill in two forms here and attach a photograph to each of them. You were required to sign a paper stating you were not a Bolshevik, and had no dealings with them. You were obliged to provide a letter from the organization on whose business you were travelling. On the occasion of my third application I had to bring a certificate of health and a banker’s letter stating that I was a person of substance not likely to become a charge on the Swiss Exchequer! Another five shillings and the visum became yours.
The next business was a British Military permit. This, I think, you had for nothing. But you filled in two more forms, attached two more photographs and waited long, weary hours for the calling of your number before you got it. I waited five hours on this occasion, and stood the whole of the time!
Lastly there was the Military Permit from the French to be obtained by suffering the same ghastly torments. For this eight shillings was the market price!