When Brand made his declaration before the Parliament night had
already fallen over Europe, and although it was still broad day in
the New World, the banks and exchanges were for the most part closed.
But out beyond the Pacific another dawn had flamed along the
Kamschatkan volcanoes, the rose flush glowed upon the snows of Fuji,
a land breeze awakened the dreaming Eastern Isles, a level sun
flashed diamonds in the surf of the Barrier Reef, and the bells of
Australian cities rang their summons to work and prayer. So it was
that the world-storm which gathered in Europe, broke first upon that
far-off Commonwealth which stands at the gates of the Daybreak.
In Brisbane and Sydney, in Melbourne and Auckland, the people were at
their breakfast-tables when the news' telephones rang the first notes
of alarm, and spoke of the fall of gold. "Nothing to fear," said the
average bread-winner. "Brand guarantees good money."
Next came the news that the master was chargeable with treason.
"Nothing to fear," said the average Australian. "Brand will be in
gaol and the old money sound as before."
Prudent men called at the bank to withdraw their deposits. Careful
housewives laid in a stock of food. There was a heavy run on all the
banks, a sharp rise in the price of provisions, a reluctance to give
the usual measure for gold, but still no general panic until noon.
"The Queen joins Lyonesse in open war against the Parliament."
They are of the master race, these Australasians, men who have
conquered the deserts, law-loving, self-controlled, cautious, not
very easily frightened, ready to lay wagers cheerfully on the issues
of life and death. But the bread-winner will fight like a wild beast
in defence of his wife and his children. The coinage was
discredited, Brand's labour money might become waste paper.
"Get food while money still has power to buy!"
The rich besieged the banks, and prosperous people bought loads of
provisions for cash, not caring what they paid. The shops of the
butchers, grocers, and bakers were thronged with customers begging to
be served. Still there was decency and order, a cheery confidence
that the storm would pass, and the taking of heavy odds against
Lyonesse.
"Brand's private yacht has defeated three destroyers."
Etheric power! These people had been familiar with Brand's ships for
years, bolts of wrought steel, propelled by etheric engines, which
could flash through high space at two hundred miles an hour. They
were not armed, but suppose that he used them as rams against the
fragile, electric battle fleets? Lord Ulster had levied war against
etheric power!
Then men went mad. In the rush for food women were crushed to death,
and many persons who had secured provisions, were set upon and robbed
by criminals. Shops were plundered, armouries were sacked, the
police were overwhelmed. Then aerial destroyers fired on the mob.
Sweeping away all values attached to money, with every hour the
stress of panic spread. A coinage is only the small change of trade,
but with its failure all belief in bonds and promises, all savings,
all investments were dishonoured. The rich were bankrupted, the poor
thrown out of work, the shops were closed, traffic was suspended,
private and public credit alike were shattered. By the third day the
Government of the Commonwealth had fallen, and men went armed to
guard their families.
At the first motion of the storm, the Australasian bankers sent out
their plea for help. The Phillipines and Japan were already
appealing, and the cry of the islands awakened Asia. But there was
no help. Bravely the Chinese merchants faced the crisis when their
time was come, and honourably met their obligations. Malaya
awakened, Burmah, India, Persia, Siberia were swept from end to end;
and so in the wake of the sun the storm swept on, travelling at a
thousand miles an hour, gathering momentum every moment until it fell
like the crash of doom along the length of Africa, across the breadth
of Europe.
The break of day found Europe under arms, the aerial fleets on
patrol, troops holding the towns. The exchanges, banks, and
provision stores were attacked, the doors of them sealed and under
guard of sentries. No work could be done, no wage could be earned,
traffic ceased, the channels of news were closed. The world-storm
struck the East with a fever, a raving delirium, the West with
paralysis. In Russia, Germany, and France there began from that time
a condition of living death, and afterwards in many a muddy street
guardsmen who visited Berlin, saw crops of grass.
On that first day the storm went roaring by leaving Europe shaken,
and striking the coasts of America in the full height of its fury.
However sound its finance, no nation can stand alone, and in the
general bankruptcy of all the world, the great Republic fell. They
say that the new metropolis on Manhattan Island is even more
stupendous than that which was burned, but still in the negro states
of the Mississippi, the ploughs are driven through fields of human
bones, and some of the Mexican silver mines are walled up for fear of
pestilence.
It is curious to remember how quiet was London on that first day of
the Terror. Here was the calm tract in the centre and vortex of the
cyclone.
Wisely the Parliament had declared a Bank Holiday. Places of
business were closed, the traffic had an easy holiday gait, the parks
were thronged, and even the public meetings were not stormy.
In the fortified Palace our Lady's servants had time to sleep after a
hard night's work. Her Majesty was not seen, Mr. Brand was supposed
to be transacting business in his office in the east front. Prince
Ali was a prisoner in the guard-room, charged with treason. My Lord
Sydney walked in the stable court with Mr. Browne. Some rumours went
about that the captain of the Bodyguard, His Royal Highness the Duke
of Gloucester, had a letter from the Dictator. Another rumour was
spread that nearly all Mr. Brand's ships had been captured. Lying in
various cities throughout the world, to receive and discharge their
cargo, more than a hundred of these vessels had been arrested on
behalf of the Government. Still the yacht, _Mary Rose_, hung
glittering in the heavens like a star, and by aerial telegraph kept
the master in contact with affairs.
Late in the afternoon a drenching shower of rain burst over London,
with one great ringing peal of thunder.
Miss Temple would have us believe that this was the last trumpet
sounding the call to judgment.
The Russian papers were now in all men's hands that they might
consider her Majesty's quarrel, also Brand's proposals were known,
and how his gift was withheld from reaching the people. And it was
well understood that the Parliament, in fighting Brand, had caused
all the money in the world to be dishonoured, so that neither the
currency of the nations nor that of Lyonesse could be accepted as any
measure of value. The leaders of public opinion, journals, clubs,
societies, cities, fortresses, and colonies throughout the Empire
were hourly declaring for the Queen.
The rich were on the Duke of Ulster's side, scouting the idea that he
had betrayed us to Russia. The poor were with the Queen and
Lyonesse. On the whole the fleets and armies obeyed the departments
as usual; but rather than attack our Lady, or slaughter their
countrymen, soldiers and sailors alike were ripe for mutiny.
Ulster was innocent until his guilt was proved; the nation wanted,
even for him, fair play, a trial at law. We islanders are slow to
kindle, and neither party desired civil war. So the day closed.
But with the second day, all England knew that trial at law was
denied us, or even trial by battle. The deadlock remained and was
forgotten. For how could any man remember that the Empire was
betrayed, or so much as think of internecine war amid that beggary of
the human Race? That was not to be salved by public holidays, or
cured by politics, or stayed by war. The first necessity of life is
food, and a merchant will not part with his good provisions for any
quantity of bogus money.
At first we were all quite confused, storming the banking houses,
which solemnly dealt out waste coin and waste paper to hungry
customers. Or we thought to rescue our invested savings, and our
stock-brokers screamed themselves hoarse trying to sell out shares in
mines gone bankrupt, or the bonds of governments already fallen. We
had nothing to sell but pieces of paper; we got their exact value
back in scraps of paper. We began to understand that we were ruined.
There was no money. People came to the railway stations offering
jewels or watches to pay their fares out of London. Then the trains
stopped running, and they were rich who had yachts or carriages to
make their escape to the country. From noon on the second day to the
evening of the third, some thirty hours, the main roads were crowded
with fugitives, and when some broken carriages blocked the way, the
lanes on either side were overrun. Long afterwards the roads to the
country were littered with the wreckage of that flight, in wagons
overturned, in piles of broken furniture, in baggage thrown away, and
household treasures, or here and there some shattered, trampled body
of a man.
And the poor remained in London.
Now we had come face to face with the first law, "Adapt yourselves or
die." Some of us adapted ourselves to the new conditions, but for
those who failed---- A few days later one began to notice a faint,
sickly smell in the streets, and when the air was still, a thin,
white mist hanging above the roofs. This bred the pestilence. For
there was famine such as had never been known in human annals, famine
in the midst of a great abundance.
It must not be thought that there was any lack of food either in
London or the provinces. Brand had seen to it.
At the beginning many families laid in stores of victuals, filled
their water tanks, fortified their homes, and gallantly defended
themselves by force of arms. The big employers kept their servants
alive by daily issue of rations, and that long after they suspended
work. The Government issued free rations for all those who were
strong enough to fight their way to the depôts, and get off home
again without being killed. The farmers and fishermen brought in
supplies which they traded for works of art and precious merchandise,
for land and houses. These men became very rich.
There was plenty of food, but after the Government fell three-fifths
of the whole supply was lost by pillage and burning. The fire
brigade was helpless for lack of water; the police and the troops
were withdrawn, dispersed, or massacred.
We were reduced to the strangest shifts and expedients for money.
Coins passed according to size and weight, as pence, halfpence and
farthings. Thus, four sovereigns made an ounce, or penny, which
would buy a small roll of bread. Ounces of tobacco, brass checks
representing goods in storage, medals, gems, blankets, were common
tokens of barter. A revolver cartridge would buy four ounces of meat.
We lacked one old resource of former troubles--horseflesh. There
were a few horses owned by rich men; but motor carriages did all the
traction, and one cannot eat dynamos. It was curious, too, that
panic of the naturalists concerning the Zoological Gardens. Many of
the animals condemned for soup--the lions and tigers, for instance,
were the last surviving examples of species and orders now wholly
extinct. Thousands of starved Londoners protested concerning the
lions--the British Lions.
Twenty years have gone by since then, and God has touched our hair
with silver in token of the eternal peace to come. And still in the
deeps of the night the memory breaks into our dreams, and lifts us
broad awake with a scream of horror. Yet, would we part with that
dread remembrance? No, not for worlds!
How sweet it is in memory once again, to walk those old streets of
the lost Capital, to see once more the faces of that time, of men
brought near to Heaven in their pain, of women glorified by
suffering, and little children waiting patiently for the end. We
never hoped to live, we rarely cared, for hope was dead in many a
smiling face. Fear was dead, too; there was nothing to be afraid of,
except life. Men spoke very gently when they met, women would purse
their lips and hurry on. One got so used and inured to horrors that
the environment of death was no more to be thought of than the air we
breathed.
One saw so many deeds of sacrifice, so many saintly and heroic
actions, that these made the framework to one's thoughts of life.
So is the memory sweet of those embittered days when, grim confused
wars racked all the peoples of the earth; those days of famine,
pillage, massacre, of wasting pestilence, and flaming desolation.
Heaven and hell were opened, but men looked upward.