Entrée à la Haute Direction
As Under Secretary Monnet was away, and as Cooper was ill, and given that she was, according to Ambrose, seen as ‘pushy’ by the others, she decided to let their view of her personality work for her rather than to be forever trying to correct it, and consequently she’d suggested to the others in the bureau that she ‘go along and take notes’ at the weekly Directors’ meeting. She’d been the only one to realise that the section would have no one there. The others had agreed that she go as a rapporteur for the bureau but not, of course, as acting acting director or anything like that. Of course not. While deep in her heart she still believed she wasn’t pushy, Edith did sometimes see herself as an unwilling leader, in a Girl Guide way. She wasn’t sure that she had what was called leadership potential, but at times There Was No One Else and she had to step in, although she wasn’t sure that was necessarily true leadership. She thought she was perhaps best as second-in-command, a good lieutenant. A leader was someone who needed followers to fulfil their existence. She was not like that. She needed a prescribed commitment.
‘Of course, I will not be there pretending that I am acting acting head of section,’ Edith said to Florence, her Canadian friend from Finance, who was pushy and proud of it.
‘Of course not,’ Florence said, laughingly, there again implying that putting herself forward was exactly what Edith would do. Florence thought it an excellent move for Edith to get to a Directors’ meeting and be seen and, perhaps, even heard. Florence was teaching her how to manoeuvre herself although, again, Edith was very unsure about whether one should ever ‘manoeuvre’ oneself. She could initiate and as in the Captain Strongbow incident, memory of which now caused her to flinch, she was even capable of taking the unorthodox path of action. That was not manoeuvring. Which was not to say that she wasn’t a feminist either, but not an acute feminist. All right, yes, Edith admitted to Florence that she wanted desperately to go to a weekly Directors’ meeting and she thought it would be good for her career to be seen at the Directors’ meeting and, yes, she intended, if possible, to have something to say. She did not see this as pushy, she saw this as being a functioning part of the League crew, as being a trainee in international diplomacy.
She supposed she could be described as having ‘drive’.
There’d been gossip at the Bavaria that the Directors’ meeting was now running the Secretary-General. Some went further and suggested that it was getting control of both the Council and the Assembly agendas and she thought, privately, never expressing it to anyone, that this was perfectly acceptable, that the Secretariat should have a big say in setting agendas.
She did not challenge that you needed a masterful Secretary-General in the League. Whether Sir Eric was this sort of man was debated endlessly at the Bavaria. She always defended him. It was her aide-de-camp disposition, even though he was not her immediate superior. It was the tendency she had observed in herself and in the private secretaries and even among the stenographers — to have devoted loyalty to the person they were attached to professionally. She could see why it was efficacious for this to be so. You couldn’t be working closely with a person and be unsupportive — although she believed it should be a ‘considered’ loyalty which involved speaking your mind. A ‘seeing loyalty’ rather than a blind loyalty. A devotion to seeing meant that you worked to provide your superior with the right particulars, so that he made the desirable decision, and a good aide-de-camp emotionally strengthened her superior when a decision had been made and had to be fought through. Provided supportiveness, too, at times of defeat. She didn’t see anything demeaning about this. She wished she had someone to whom she could make this commitment. Cooper was not right for her, nor Monnet.
With Ambrose it was not like that either. They had something of a snug liaison. Ambrose was of superior rank to her, although not in her section, and he was more a mentor, although also at times needed support, which she was able to give. How would she describe this liaison? They saw each other nearly every week-end, and Ambrose, although he earned more than she, seemed to borrow money from her.
She told Florence that she felt tense at the idea of being there with the heads of section and other senior people. Even though she saw most of them daily, they were still fairly intimidating for her. Florence said some nervousness could be to one’s advantage, a configuration of electrical energy which produced a higher alertness. Edith doubted this.
She made sure a memorandum went to Wilson as secretary of the Directors’ meeting, saying that she would be there. Florence insisted on helping her with the wording, wanting to make it sound grander, and they settled on saying that she was ‘representing the absent head of section’ in the first paragraph and then, giggling, Florence had her sign it ‘Head of section (rep)’ and then made her type it again with (rep) in small, almost unreadable, handwriting next to the typed words HEAD OF SECTION. Florence looked at the memorandum and then said, ‘I know. You must add an initial to your name. You must make them remember you.’
‘But I’m already using my second name.’
‘Go the whole hog,’ said Florence.
Edith resisted and said that it would be excessive.
‘Then change Edith to an E — and sign yourself. “E. Campbell Berry”.’
Edith tried it out a few times and had to agree that it looked good. She signed the memorandum E. Campbell Berry.
She would say something at the meeting but only if she could naturally find something to say.
On the day of the meeting the messenger, Jules, a limping refugee from Russia, complimented her on her dress and presented her with a yellow rose. He asked her to mention his family’s lost estate, but she knew he wasn’t serious. She wondered how he knew so much about her, but she guessed that there was talk about her going to the meeting. He probably read everything he carried.
It had been obvious to the others that she had dressed ‘up’ for the meeting, not excessively — it was a pale blue crepe suit with a pleated front panel, not even eye-catching — but it confirmed that she belonged there at the meeting and that she was of their standard. She knew there’d be only two women at the meeting, she and Dame Rachel, head of Social Questions. She wanted to be singular but not stand out.
At the door of the meeting, Under Secretary Bartou said to her in a comradely way, ‘Remember, Berry, that a meeting is a diplomatic activity: pursue your interests: exercise comity.’ He made a seat for her at his side. It would be good to be seen to have Under Secretary Bartou as an ally. However she thanked him and said that she’d sit with her friend Major Westwood. As she moved over to Ambrose, Dame Rachel indicated that she should sit next to her and Edith realised that the two women probably should sit together and went over to Dame Rachel. Dame Rachel was head of her section but they had not yet given her the full status of Director.
‘You’ll find it a little like a football scrum,’ Dame Rachel said, and Edith smiled at her, not quite understanding, worrying that Under Secretary Bartou would be wondering why she was sitting with Dame Rachel when she had said she would sit with Ambrose, thinking maybe that she had simply refused a seat beside him for no good reason. Oh well, it was one of those things that would go into history unexplained.
She glanced down the agenda:
Germany’s entry to League
Filming in the Assembly
Behaviour of Journalists
Esperanto
Purchase of Furniture
Emergency Procedures
Complaint from NZ
Calendar Reform
Lighting of Coasts Committee Meeting in Stockholm
‘Berry?’
Edith raised her head.
‘Sir Eric?’
‘Miss — Campbell?’ Sir Eric paused and looked down at his notes, ‘Miss E. Campbell Berry, I wish to welcome you to our meeting — our first Australian.’ She hated the new form of her name and wanted to put her hand up like a schoolgirl and say, ‘Please call me Edith.’
He went on, ‘And to welcome you also to the League Secretariat. Unfortunately I now rarely have a chance personally to meet all our newcomers. Although I should as a gentleman go out of my way to meet young ladies who join us.’
The others chuckled.
Still glancing in her direction, but with a change of tone, he said, ‘I hardly need to remind you, Berry, that you will hear discussed today things which are confidential to the Directors. I assume you will use judgement in conversation and, if in doubt, consult Under Secretary Monnet when he returns or Major Buxton or Major Westwood. Understood?’
‘Of course, Sir Eric.’
Edith blushed. She wondered if Sir Eric knew of her connection with Ambrose. How many knew? They went out together but they did not, for instance, go to tea parties or dinner parties as a duo, although in League social life they were generally both there in their own right. She never took his arm in public. Ambrose and she looked across at each other correctly, without a flicker of anything improper. To think that they were sitting in the Directors’ meeting, the haute direction of the League, all of the men in their pinstripe trousers and dark jackets, blue or grey shirts and white Eton collars, all dressed fairly much in the same fashion as Sir Eric, when last week she had seen Ambrose dressed in her knickers and corset and stockings. My, the world had been composed of many wonders since she’d met Ambrose on the train trip from Paris to Geneva. He had taken her into a realm of experience the import of which she could not yet discern. He had, she suspected, inducted her into the tempo and morality of the Modern Times. Oh dear, she thought, Mother, I’m a long, long way from home.
Sir Eric then led off about work hours, which wasn’t on the agenda. She thought to herself that it was bad meeting practice to introduce matters that were not on the agenda. He wouldn’t get away with that back home. He said that he had received a staff petition from Internal Services arguing for a change in the winter hours. Edith was surprised; she hadn’t seen this petition.
The change in winter work hours was opposed by Comert from Information, who pointed out that if staff of the League began leaving at 5.30 p.m. when the rest of Geneva stopped at 6 p.m, it would create an unfortunate impression that the League staff led a privileged life. He also argued that in winter, 5.30 p.m in Geneva was still only 4.30 p.m. in London and Paris and it would look very bad if people called up the League on the telephone from London and Paris and got no answer.
Huston, who was from Internal Services, which came under her bureau, reminded the meeting that nearly all the members of section lived in pensions and had to observe the rather early pension hours for meals. When they left at 6 p.m. there was no time left for shopping.
Edith decided to test herself and decide what action she would take if she were Secretary-General — apart, that is, from not introducing substantial items not on the agenda. On this matter she agreed with Comert and was for having the same hours as the rest of Geneva. In fact, she thought the League should work longer hours because their work was so urgent.
Sir Eric ruled that because the petition for change had been unanimous he would give it a trial until December and then review the matter.
She felt like shouting out that it wasn’t really unanimous — she, for one, hadn’t signed it. The matter of the petition offended her but she felt that to raise it now would be to make too big a thing of it. Still, within the League, those sorts of tactics were out of place. Maybe she’d been out of the office or away. Or perhaps the trades-union-minded members were being dishonest and using tactics. She’d find out.
If she had been Secretary-General, though, she would have acted differently from Sir Eric. She would have checked on the real support for the petition. The other sections worked all hours and so would she.
They moved on to Germany’s admission to the League and to a place on the League Council.
Sir Eric began by stressing the highly confidential nature of what he was about to say about Germany’s entry. He started by stating that at last Germany would be admitted to the League and to a seat on the Council.
‘There has been much private discussion about enlarging the Council,’ Sir Eric said seriously. ‘Brazil also wishes to be changed from a temporary member to a permanent member of Council to represent the Americas at the same time that Germany is given her seat. Brazil at present has a veto, and there was talk that she’d use it against Germany if she does not get a permanent seat as well as Germany. She’s also talking of withdrawal from the League, becoming the first nation to do so since the League was set up. Our first serious loss, our first defeat.’
Someone said, ‘Costa Rica.’ Sir Eric said, ‘Yes, there was Costa Rica.’
Edith exchanged glances with Ambrose. She again admired him. He had been the first to point out to her that Brazil would be uppity. Costa Rica wasn’t important. It had found that it couldn’t afford membership of the League. She thought too of the Argentine which hadn’t pulled out but was sulking and wouldn’t come to Assembly meetings.
Sir Eric went on to explain. ‘However, everything has been ironed out. In Berlin, I talked with Herr Stresemann.’ Sir Eric paused for effect. ‘The problem had been that Germany wants to be admitted on its own, as an equal to the great powers and without any diminution of status, which she thinks would happen if she were admitted at the same time as a lesser power such as Brazil or Poland.’
He said that, consequently, there was loose speculative talk of enlarging the Council, if necessary, to permit everything to happen. To make Germany a permanent member and to create a new class of member — a ‘semi-permanent’ Council member — to allow seats to Spain, Brazil, and Poland. ‘However, it won’t come to that. Germany will go straight in.’
Ambrose said, in an aside to the meeting, that semi-permanent could be likened to the semi-virgin. There was general laughter.
‘Quite so,’ Sir Eric said, without looking up from his notes, as if he had heard that joke before. When he did look up, Sir Eric avoided her eyes or Dame Rachel’s eyes, fearing, she supposed, that he’d permitted a joke which might be seen as blue.
As a connoisseur of conversation, especially the conversation of men, Edith thought that the point of Sir Eric’s remarks were that he’d had private conversations with Herr Stresemann in Berlin and that this was a sign that Sir Eric was on equal footings with the powers of Europe, albeit Germany was a crippled power.
Ambrose carried the joke a little further, saying that the Spanish delegate had said that it was a pity that Adam had not considered the apple a semi-apple and thereby, Ambrose said, clearing his throat, ‘committing only a semi-sin’.
Sir Eric frowned and moved his papers to show that he was continuing with important business, that Ambrose had maybe over-stretched the levity. Of course, being Catholic, Sir Eric was known not to encourage jokes with a theological flavour.
Under Secretary Bartou said that the protocol of seating had to be considered. Should the German delegates be seated last, given that, by date of entry to the League, Germany would be the lowest on the protocol list of precedence?
‘Ah, but which list are you using?’ Sir Eric asked. Sir Eric said that because diplomatic precedent among envoys of the same rank was established by date of appointment, he questioned whether it might be best to treat Germany and the other permanent Council members — and this was only an idea — as of a senior diplomatic rank to the other types of membership, and therefore Germany could be seated before the lesser nations.
Comert said that it was important that it should not appear that any radical change in the sitting order of the Council had been introduced simply to save the amour propre of Germany. ‘It would,’ he said turning to some of the anti-German faction, ‘inflate the importance of Germany’s entry.’
There were smiles of agreement at this. She realised that some felt that Germany ‘had not changed’. Ambrose had told her that some of the officers, including himself, were uneasy about the arrival of Germans into the Secretariat after its admission. Secretariat positions had been promised.
Sir Eric said that seating arrangements and protocol were the prerogative of the Council.
They were all looking to the next item on the agenda when Sir Eric, after a canny pause, went on, ‘However.’ Everyone looked up. He then said, with a verbal wink in his voice, and looking straight at her, ‘Maybe the appropriate people could see that a horseshoe table is purchased for Council before the admission meeting?’
Smiles crossed the faces of those there who seemed to see in the words of Sir Eric something which Edith did not see, although it was certainly her section which would do the purchasing.
Edith was uncertain about the political implications of the horseshoe table. She could see that it was considered a great move and that it restored good humour to the Directors’ meeting.
Sir Eric said that the Council would then not have to worry itself about the seating arrangement. At present the Council sat in a row with the permanent members sitting to the right and left of the President in descending order of seniority which would place Germany at the bottom of the table but a horseshoe table would give no clear indication of precedent without diminishing the status of the Presidency which a round table might.
Mantoux from Political said that the documents in original German would be circulated along with translations.
Colban from Translations protested. No German language documents had ever been included in League documents before.
Under Secretary Bartou also opposed this. He said that to reproduce the German text would encourage other countries to communicate in their own language and expect the League to circulate documents in that language, breaching not only the agreed practice of the League but creating administrative headaches in the translation department. He felt it best to stay with French and English.
Edith would have ruled that way too, because although she was for Germany’s entry she was dead against too many concessions to the Germans. Maybe Ambrose’s influence.
Sir Eric said that the German documents circulated should be in French and English but a note included with them saying that the documents were available in their original language in the archives of the Secretariat for anyone who wanted to read them in German.
Edith liked Sir Eric’s ability to find a third way.
‘Finally, Mantoux, I want it to be known by the admission sub-committee — by a quiet word in the appropriate ears — that when Germany comes before the sub-committee formally for the admission, that Germany must not be expected to say anything on the question of her war guilt. If war guilt comes up she will withdraw.’
More grunts of both irritation at Germany’s sensitivity and of understanding of the politics of the situation.
Dufour-Feronce from Intellectual Cooperation reported that he had been in Prague for the Esperanto Congress and that it had been a thoroughly lively affair.
‘Congress?’ Ambrose interposed. ‘Not conference?’
‘They called it a congress,’ Dufour-Feronce said shortly. ‘At the congress, encouraging evidence of the spread — ’
‘A conference, I should think,’ Ambrose broke in again. ‘There are yet, surely, no sovereign heads of Esperanto states.’ Ambrose said this poker-faced. ‘Or have I missed some recent political changes in the map of Europe?’ The meeting laughed.
‘They called it a congress, Westwood. I simply use their description,’ Dufour-Feronce said, miffed by this diplomatic correction and by Ambrose’s frivolous treatment of Esperanto.
Edith bit back an urge to correct Ambrose’s correction of Dufour-Feronce and state that Satow, the expert on diplomatic usage, did not think that there was any longer a difference between a congress and a conference. It would be a Thing For Her To Say. She was torn with the urge to speak. But it was not to the point. It would make her sound like a know-all. She shut up. She would tease Ambrose later.
Dufour-Feronce went on with his dreary report. ‘The French and German delegates fraternised completely — all conversing in Esperanto. I am not a complete convert but the movement is gaining ground. They are looking at the possibility that Esperanto might replace Latin for use in technical terminology.’
Ponderously, he turned to Sir Eric and said, ‘I would like, if I may, Sir Eric, to make a personal statement to this Directors’ meeting?’ Sir Eric nodded assent. ‘It was reported in the press that I made an opening speech and declared that the League would shortly take to using Esperanto. This is, of course, not true and I was not reported correctly. I want that to be recorded.’
Edith again groaned inwardly at all the efforts which needed to be made to correct all the wrong things which appeared in the newspapers about the League. They had to realise that corrections were futile.
He said it was appreciated by the Esperanto people that the League had a representative at the ‘congress’. He went on, ‘I suspect that Monsieur Benes or Monsieur Lafontaine might raise the question of the League’s use of Esperanto at the next Assembly.’
Edith still hadn’t spoken. She had nothing new to say about Esperanto. If there was to be an international auxiliary language, she supposed it might as well be one that already existed, that had some culture behind it. If everyone was to bother learning another language, why not a real one? The subject bored her.
Lloyd, from the Building Committee, said he was in a quandary because the tenders for new furniture showed that a Swiss company and an Austrian company had bid identically. ‘Identical quotes exactly. I have never seen it before.’
Edith found herself a little breathless. Coming from a business family, she knew exactly what to do. She waited to see if Sir Eric would speak but he too, seemed to be unable to come up with an answer.
He simply said, ‘Extraordinary,’ and the meeting sat stalled.
In a voice which was nervously uneven, she asked if she might offer a solution.
The men turned to her. Ambrose raised an eyebrow of encouragement.
‘Of course,’ Sir Eric said, surprised. ‘Go ahead, Berry.’
Her voice came out a little breathlessly and she deepened it and tried to speak slowly. ‘Identical tenders are always to the buyer’s advantage,’ she said, ‘that is the first thing to realise.’
She heard Dame Rachel whisper, ‘Take it slowly.’
She made herself pause, although her breathing was broken. She counted to five. ‘We should now go to the two companies which have given identical bids and explain to them the situation.’
She paused for the count of three. ‘We then ask the two companies to re-tender.’
Pause, Edith, pause.
‘Well, thank you, Berry, for your solution.’
Edith wasn’t finished. She’d paused too long. ‘I’m sorry, Sir Eric, that was not the end of my submission — there’s more.’
‘My apologies. Go ahead. Fire away.’
‘Naturally we suggest to both companies that they re-tender at a lower price.’
Pause. They were looking at her with interest. Ambrose mimed a silent clap.
‘They will both drop their bids — and we get an even lower price. That is how identical bids are always to the buyer’s advantage.’
‘What if they come in at the same price again?’ Lloyd asked. He seemed put out by being told how to do his job by a newcomer and a woman.
Edith consciously spoke not to Lloyd but to Sir Eric. ‘In the highly unlikely situation described by Lloyd, Sir Eric, you divide the order between the two companies.’
‘Well done!’ Sir Eric said. ‘We need some business acumen in the League.’
Dame Rachel touched her arm and said, ‘Well done, Berry.’
She didn’t suggest that you could always ask the two lowest tenderers to re-tender on the pretext that they were identical. That would be unethical for the League but back home she knew people who had done it — however, she believed fiercely in the tender system as the bedrock of scrupulous administration. She was pleased with herself but wished that her contribution had been on something more diplomatic or political. She did not want to be known as some sort of horse-trader and she didn’t want to end up buying furniture.
‘Ingenious,’ Under Secretary Bartou said.
Sir Eric said, ‘Lloyd, will you see to that — following Berry’s suggestion?’
Lloyd wrote something down in his notebook, far from happy.
Comert said that for 2,000 Swiss francs lighting arrangements could be made for the taking of cinema films at the next Assembly. Should the League admit cinema companies free or charge a fee?
Edith tested herself on this. If you charge, you are then under an obligation to the motion picture companies to provide all sorts of things. They will ask for more of this and more of that. You opened yourself to pestering but, anyhow, collecting fees for attendance at Assembly was petty. Cinema film was, after all, a new way of spreading the word about the League.
Sir Eric made the ruling that it was essential that the Secretariat not be under any obligation to the cinematographic firms which would be the case if the fee was charged. Comert must retain control of the situation. ‘When cinema films are taken, and for how long, must be your decision, Comert.’ Sir Eric added that if the cameras or whatever else they used were too noisy, they would have to go.
Edith felt pleased that she and Sir Eric had arrived at the same decision.
Under Secretary Professor Attolico of Transit informed the meeting that the President of the Association of Journalists at the League had displayed in the pressroom a copy of a letter which he had sent to Lord Cecil. The letter complimented Lord Cecil on his insistence that committee meetings be held in public. However, the letter, by supporting Lord Cecil, reflected unfavourably on the contrary attitude taken by Signor Scialoja, who had argued that the meetings be closed to the public. The letter, also, as it turned out, misrepresented the attitude of Signor Schialoja. The displaying of the letter placed him, Professor Attolico, in the position of having publicly supported one delegate against another.
Sir Eric said he was against political use of the noticeboard of the pressroom.
Comert said that notices of meetings and so on were posted on the pressroom noticeboard by journalists. He agreed that the room should not be used politically but thought any official reprimand about this would be the wrong approach. The journalists had to feel they weren’t being supervised.
Sir Eric half-heartedly agreed. ‘Before we move on, there is another thing which worries me,’ Sir Eric said, tentatively, ‘and I will be advised by you all on this — I was walking by the pressroom and glanced in. They seem to have taken to posting up caricatures of delegates and of the Secretariat. Comert, might not something be done to stop this? For these caricatures to be displayed takes away from the dignity of the League. In my opinion, that is.’
Comert thought that he should handle that informally, too.
Surreptitious glances of amusement were exchanged. Edith felt she should avoid them, being a newcomer and susceptible to giggling. Everyone had seen Emery Kelen’s caricature of Sir Eric in the pressroom and anyhow, everyone, well, nearly everyone, did impersonations of Sir Eric.
‘As you think best,’ said Sir Eric; obviously, he would have liked a stronger stand.
Had she been Secretary-General, Edith did not know quite how she would have handled that. She would have been as sensitive as Sir Eric but she would not have raised it at a Directors’ meeting — that gave further fuel to the joking. She would have handled it privately somehow. She wanted Sir Eric to be bigger than that. She looked at him curiously because of his raising it. It showed excessive self-pride. Or vulnerability. Or perhaps these things could be found together.
Major Buxton presented a short dissertation on the amount of reading that committee members had to do. He said, ‘We in the Secretariat should be the world experts at presenting material so that people can take it in quickly.’
Everyone liked Major Buxton. He was the social centre of their lives and also ran a pack of hounds, much to the annoyance of the Geneva police.
‘To show what happens, I have attached a copy of each of the documents so far circulated for one meeting of a single subcommittee. The meeting’s not till March 19 and there are already about 350 pages of Roneo and 170 pages of print. Documents are still coming in. How can a member of committee cope?
‘My proposals are for a new form of agenda which I’ve designed with short notes on each item. The Secretariat or the rapporteur should also issue summaries of information saying that the original longer documents can be called up if needed.’ The meeting accepted Major Buxton’s suggestions.
The next item on the agenda was Emergency Procedures. This was Ambrose’s big moment at the meeting. Edith and Ambrose had discussed it endlessly over the last month.
Ambrose spoke about the need for the Secretariat to take precautions at least equal to those taken by a Foreign Office, or War Office, to ensure that important communications reached the proper League officials with the least delay at whatever hour they arrived. He reminded the meeting of an incident where a telegram had sat in the Palais over the week-end, unopened.
‘If we can be expeditious about the matters of war, surely we can be equally expeditious about matters of peace.’ Ambrose had practised that line on her a couple of times and he delivered it well.
There were hear, hears.
Ambrose said that Agence Télégraphique Suisse now telephoned through to the League any important news received by them by wireless.
‘We have also arranged that if a member of the League sends an emergency communication it is to be marked Priorité Nations and governments and foreign offices have been informed that they should mark their cables thus.’
Ambrose went on to propose a duty roster for week-end and nights and the creation of a bedroom at the Palais Wilson for the duty officer.
He paused, went to the door and rapped. The door opened, and to the surprise of the meeting, Jules limpingly wheeled in a model of the bell alarm system. It was mounted on a mobile trolley which Ambrose had borrowed from one of the local street vendors. Jules must have been primed and waiting outside. ‘Thank you, Jules.’
Jules audibly muttered, ‘For peace, anything.’ Everyone was used to Jules’ irreverence.
Ambrose stood and went over to his demonstration. ‘When the telephonists leave at 8 p.m. they will connect an electric bell running from the telegram tube to the concierge’s desk. If a telegram does arrive, the cartridge carrying a telegram will automatically start the bell ringing.’
Ambrose directed their attention to a length of telegram tube he had set up. He took a telegram cartridge loaded with a telegram and dropped it down the neck of the tube. It came out the other end and hit a trigger which rang a bell set up on a tray connected by wires and held by Jules at the other side of the room. The bell continued to ring until Ambrose cut it off.
‘To make sure that the cartridges do not become stuck in the tube on their way to the Secretariat, my clever mechanics have arranged that one of the lamps of the tube will remain lighted in the concierge’s office until the telegram has arrived safely to the duty officer.’
Ambrose again demonstrated the flashing light. ‘And that, gentlemen, is my apparatus.’ There was some light clapping.
‘Boys will be boys,’ Dame Rachel whispered to her. Edith smiled broadly relishing the rapport with Dame Rachel but her smile also carried a private amusement sparked off by Dame Rachel’s remark, and a voice in her head said, ‘And boys will also be girls.’
There was much approval of Ambrose’s memorandum and after discussion of costs and so forth, it was adopted unanimously. A triumph.
‘I think the League needs a secret code as well,’ Ambrose said in conclusion.
‘Oh dear me,’ said Dame Rachel under her breath, again sharing it with Edith, smiling at her in collusion, although Edith felt torn between the collusion and her attachment to Ambrose.
Sir Eric ruled that the question of codes should be looked into by the Under Secretary Bartou and a report made to the next meeting.
Following on Ambrose’s submission, Sir Eric reminded them of the immense effectiveness of the League when its political workings were combined with the speed of the telegraph.
‘Some of you newcomers to the League were not with us during the Bulgarian crisis …’ He glanced at Edith. ‘At one in the afternoon I received an appeal from Bulgaria. Greek troops had crossed the frontier and were battling their way into Bulgaria. Four days earlier there’d been a quarrel over a card game at the border post at Demir-Kapou. A Greek soldier had been killed and a Greek officer coming up to settle the matter under a white flag of truce had been gunned down. I telephoned Monsieur Briand, then President of Council, and urged him to telegraph both sides, asking them to cease hostilities and withdraw their forces, which he did. Both sides immediately complied with our telegraph. Invasion orders were countermanded. This demonstrates the amazing power of the telegraph. After the telegrams arrived the troops on both sides remained frozen in position. We then issued our first League ultimatum — again by telegraph — that both sides must withdraw to their borders within sixty hours. British, French, and Italian military attachés in the Balkans were dispatched by the League to supervise the withdrawal. The war was over in three days.’
There were courteous murmurs of pleasure, and a few said, ‘Well done, Sir Eric.’ One or two tapped the table in affirmation. ‘Well done, Sir Eric,’ she said along with the others, in a voice that could hardly be heard.
‘Not “Well done, Sir Eric”,’ Sir Eric said, sternly, ‘well done, Sir Telegraph.’
They laughed like school children at the end of class. He closed the meeting.
The complaint from New Zealand and the Stockholm Commission on the Lighting of Coasts had not been reached and were put over to the next meeting. She knew about the New Zealand complaints that the mail always got to them too late and that Sir Eric was paid five times more than their Prime Minister.
As the meeting was breaking up Dame Rachel said, ‘Sir Eric — may I quickly raise a small matter — or what I take to be a small matter?’
Sir Eric looked at the pocket watch which he had on the table in front of him. ‘If we can be brief, Dame Rachel.’
‘It’s about this strange cavalcade which went through Geneva last week.’
People were gathering their papers together and rather eager to go but there were chuckles at the mention of the cavalcade.
Edith coloured and shuffled her papers. Ye gods, please, no.
Dame Rachel said, ‘This Captain Strongbow had a military motor-car and a girl dressed I think as a cowboy. Other “girls” were involved. I have no recollection, Sir Eric, that this Captain Strongbow had ever obtained any recognition from us. But his publicity material claims so.’
Under Secretary Bartou gave a comradely glance over at Edith. She wondered whether he was implying that she should say something about the matter. At least he wasn’t mad at her for not having sat with him. She tried to avoid Ambrose’s eyes, realising that the mention of the cowgirl would have caused a penny to drop. She eventually glanced across. He had a strange expression on his face but it was affectionate and he’d obviously made a connection. He wagged his finger in a gesture which said, ‘Just you wait, young lady.’ His comradeship didn’t help much and she filled with apprehension and fiddled with her notes, eyes down.
‘Oh, we mustn’t worry ourselves with every exhibitionist who comes to town,’ Sir Eric said, himself putting together his papers to leave.
Good. No, we must not.
‘I felt that it should be made clear in the Journal de Genève?’ Dame Rachel continued.
‘If you think so, Dame Rachel,’ said Sir Eric, agreeing, Edith could tell, only for the sake of avoiding further discussion. He looked over at Comert. ‘Could you arrange for a statement to be issued?’
Edith waited to hear if anything else was to be said, whether Dame Rachel was now going to point at her and say, ‘Finally, Sir Eric, here in this very room, seated beside me, is the traitor, the person who masqueraded as a silly cowgirl and who besmirched the good name of the League of Nations.’ She saw the members of the haute direction in unison shouting, ‘Off with her head.’
Nothing more was said. The meeting was over.
Dame Rachel said to Edith, ‘Did you see this cavalcade?’
Edith was able to answer with technical honesty that no, she had not ‘seen’ the cavalcade.
‘The League could end up attracting every crackpot idea and person in the world to Geneva,’ Dame Rachel said crossly.
‘I suppose it’s our job to assess them.’
‘I sincerely hope not.’
Relieved of the apprehension of being implicated in the Strongbow matter, Edith now imagined creating a sensation by defending the ideas of Captain Strongbow. However, she knew that it would be beyond her, and anyhow, the meeting was over.
Sir Eric knocked his pipe on the desk and called for attention. ‘Sorry, people, but there is one further matter. Huston has asked that, during the Assembly, dogs should not be brought into the building. Staff should keep their dogs at home for the two weeks of the Assembly, and that includes section mascots. Some of our less stalwart delegates, I am told, have a phobia about dogs.’
More laughter.
Edith felt sweat on her back from her nervousness about the Strongbow matter and she still avoided Under Secretary Bartou’s eyes.
The meeting broke up at 7.30 p.m, although some of the Directors stayed chatting. Dame Rachel again complimented her on her contribution to the meeting. Although she wasn’t looking, she sensed Under Secretary Bartou coming over to her. She forced herself to look up at him, deciding that she wouldn’t try to explain why she’d sat with Dame Rachel when she’d said she was going to sit with Ambrose. He congratulated her on her contribution about tendering. ‘It is probably uniquely historic.’
‘Historic?’
‘You got to give an answer on a problem which probably happens once in a lifetime.’ He smiled. ‘Well done. Good night.’
She walked back to her office with Ambrose. ‘Cowgirl scandalises League of Nations,’ he said. ‘Very, very naughty. I won’t ask questions. It was very naughty. You take my breath away, Edith Campbell Berry — or it is E. Campbell Berry now? — you take my breath away.’
‘You can be the cowgirl next time,’ she said, trying to be self-confident.
‘Thank you. So I take it that you were the cowgirl of the cavalcade mentioned?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘Amazing. I think, in future, we’ll keep costumes for the bedroom. Agreed?’
‘Agreed.’
The rest of the staff had gone, and she felt a tingle of importance at still being around. She liked it when there were only a few of them working late and she especially loved it when they had to work through the night and came out into quai Woodrow Wilson to see dawn breaking over the lake and all went for a breakfast together in a café. She envied the people in Documents who often worked all night to get the minutes and reports circulated by 9 a.m. and had such wonderful esprit de corps.
Ambrose and she decided to go off for a champagne celebration of the acceptance of his memorandum on emergency procedures, and Ambrose graciously in turn added, ‘And to celebrate your display of acumen. But not, not to celebrate your display of audacity.’
She said she wanted to be known for her diplomacy, not for her commercial acumen.
‘You will be. Give it time.’
They collected Florence who was also working late.
On the way out, Edith teased Ambrose about making a distinction between a conference and congress. ‘Satow no longer thinks it matters. I nearly corrected you in the meeting.’
Florence, obviously impressed, said, ‘Edith! You’ve been swotting.’
Florence’s praise caused her to smirk inwardly.
Ambrose came back, ‘Ah, but Sibert does. On these matters of diplomatic distinction, I’m a Sibert man. I think it’s good to know what a thing is when you see its name. Really, if one was to be a stickler, which I am, congress should be used only when plenipotentiaries meet to make peace.’
Edith laughed with another, different sensation of gratification. She was glad that Ambrose had made a comeback at her and she was glad to defer to him. She told how as she’d gone into the meeting, Under Secretary Bartou said — Edith mimicked his voice — ‘“Remember, Berry, a meeting is a diplomatic endeavour: you pursue interests: you exercise comity.” The problem was that I didn’t know what comity was. So I couldn’t exercise it. I hope he didn’t notice.’
They laughed with her.
‘Comity is courtesy, Edith dear, those courtesies granted among nations. Expressed through protocol.’
‘And protocol is formalised goodwill,’ Edith said.
‘Correct. Ten out of ten. Did he also say that diplomacy is part of a country’s arsenal?’
‘No, he didn’t.’ She realised how much she loved to relax in deference to Ambrose. Oh, she did. Though as they walked to the Beau-Rivage, she realised that her deference to Ambrose was, this day, not quite firm. In the beginning of their relationship, it had been there strongly. She realised she was frightened now that Ambrose might fail; she no longer had the same unquestioning confidence in him that she had at the beginning. Perhaps it was Dame Rachel saying ‘Boys will be boys’ while she’d been quietly cheering him on. Dame Rachel’s remark had caused her to see Ambrose slightly differently. She couldn’t say exactly how. Maybe today he had gone too much into details over emergency procedures in an almost embarrassing way. The bell business. Jules wheeling in the scale model. No. She worried too much. Today had been a triumph for him.
She moaned to Florence about how she’d been seen as a horse-trader and not a diplomat at the meeting.
Florence said, ‘The point is, dear Edith, you were noticed. Now, both of you, tell me what happened. Tell the gossip — is Germany in? Tell all — what exactly did you both do?!’
Edith was about to tell of her contribution in every detail when Ambrose put a finger to his mouth and shook his head. ‘Confidential.’ He put an arm around Florence, ‘Our lips are sealed — you know, it’s all hush-hush at Directors’ meetings.’
‘You can tell me,’ Florence said, miffed.
‘Surely I can tell Florence about my contribution?’
‘No. All’s confidential,’ Ambrose said, seriously.
She shrugged and grimaced at Florence. ‘Sorry.’
‘But I was the one who talked you into wrangling your way into the meeting!’ Florence was genuinely hurt.
They walked for a little way in uncomfortable silence.
At the Beau-Rivage Florence hesitated about joining them, intending to go off in a sulk. They both grabbed her arms and marched her in and made efforts to jolly her out of it.
With the help of the champagne they were soon giggling and gossiping — but not about the Directors’ meeting, although Edith was still hankering to tell all.