Panic
In dealing with the subsequent stage of affairs in this country, I
feel myself at a loss. Matters of fact, sequences of events, definite
incidents in a chain of affairs: all these can be described without
much difficulty and with a certain detachment on the part of the
narrator. But when it comes to indicating the transition from one
psychological state to another, the task is one which would require
for its proper fulfilment a more practised pen than mine; and it is
precisely this transitional period which I must now attempt to make
clear in retrospect; for without an understanding of it my narrative
would lack one of its corner-stones.
Apart from the mere question of narration, however, there is a further
difficulty which cannot be evaded. I myself passed through this crisis
and underwent day by day these changes in outlook which I shall have
to portray; so that the personal factor cannot be eliminated from
my account. Yet my own feelings and views must not be allowed to
monopolise the field; since they had not the slightest influence upon
the main current of popular feeling.
I have used the word “current,” and perhaps it is the best one which
I could have chosen to express the thing which baffles me. As a man
walks by the side of a mountain stream, he sees the volume of the water
change as it grows from rill to rivulet and from rivulet to river;
yet no single tributary is of any notable size. Gradually, almost
imperceptibly, the banks diverge, the sound of the running water grows
louder and yet louder: until at last comes a sweep over the rapids and
the thunder of the fall below.
It was in this way that events merged into each other between the
outbreak and the complete realisation of our fears. The transition
from security to panic was not made in one swift step. Rather it came
little by little, and at no point could one indicate precisely how
the public feeling had changed from that of the previous day. A whole
series of tiny impulses, each in itself almost negligible, served to
drive us from one mental position to the next; and a complete analysis
of the psychology of the time would be an impossible task. I propose,
therefore, merely to indicate some of these innumerable factors which
played upon our spirits; so that this blank in my narrative may be
filled in some way, even if only roughly.
It was not until the Blight had spread far over the Home Counties that
the general public became interested in the matter at all; and at this
period the mass of people in the country districts were almost the
only ones who saw any cause for alarm. The town-dwellers seldom came
in direct contact with the sources of their food-supply; in fact it
is doubtful if the lower-class Londoner of the old days could have
answered a direct question as to the date of harvesting. Food came to
them daily in a form which suggested very little with regard to its
original nature. Wheat they knew only in the form of bread or flour;
meat was divorced almost entirely from the shapes of the animals from
which it was derived; tea, coffee and sugar brought with them no
visions of tea-gardens on the Indian hills or sugar plantations under
the West Indian sun. The furthest traceable point of origin of these
things, as far as most of the population was concerned, was to be
found in the retail shops. Thus there was a certain sluggishness in
apprehension among the main bulk of the people when they read in the
newspapers that the crops had failed. To them, it simply meant that we
should have to buy in another market; just as they had to go to a fresh
grocer when their own dealer ran short of some commodity which they
required.
In the country districts, and especially in the great centres of the
agricultural portions of the kingdom, the outlook was different, but
still restricted in its scope. Failure of the crops to them meant
financial loss, hard times, stringency, urgent personal economy and
the hope of better luck in the following season. Though closer to the
soil, the country folk were unmoved by any outlook wider than that
which included the direct effects of the Blight upon their industry.
And, indeed, they had little time in which to speculate upon ultimate
reactions, for their attention was concentrated almost wholly upon
their efforts to remedy the damage already done or to protect from
injury any portions of the crop which had not yet been attacked.
Thus at this stage the mental surface of the country as a whole
remained unruffled. Here and there, of course, a few of us had grasped
what might be entailed if the Blight destroyed the whole of the home
supplies; but I doubt if even the most far-sighted had imagined that
anything but a local shortage was in prospect.
With the arrival of the American cables, the situation changed
slightly. The tone of the newspapers became graver, and they
endeavoured to awake their readers to the fact that the possibility of
a serious shortage had become a certainty. Edition after edition poured
out from the printing-presses and the headlines grew in magnitude
from hour to hour. “_The Blight in America_” was the first type of
intimation, which attracted but little interest and was placed in the
“third-class” column of the papers. Then came appreciation of the
importance of the news; the headlines increased in size and moved up
nearer the centre of readers’ interest: “_Spread of the Blight in the
Wheat Districts_.” Next came a sudden jump to the first place on the
page and heavily leaded type in the headlines: “_Failure of Wheat Crop
in America_.”
Even at this stage, the readers as a whole failed to connect the news
with anything in their daily life. Gradually it was borne in upon
their minds that the collapse of the American crops--including the
Canadian--meant a very rapid rise in the price of cereal food-stuffs;
but further than this they refused to look. At that time the cattle
question had not been noticed at all; and the general feeling simply
resolved itself into a decision to avoid bread as far as possible and
eat meat instead.
With the arrival of reports from the remaining wheat-growing districts,
the newspapers increased their efforts to awaken their readers to the
gravity of the situation. “_The World Shortage_” occupied the place of
honour in their columns, and was supported by telegrams and cables from
all parts of the globe telling the same tale of crop failure with a
steady monotony.
As I look back upon these days I can only marvel at the ingrained
conservatism of the human mind. It is true that on the whole the public
were at last beginning to understand the situation. They had grasped
the fact that almost all the known regions of wheat-growing land had
been attacked; and that a shortage was inevitable. But, none the less,
in their inmost thoughts they still clung to the fixed idea that
_somewhere_ in the world there was bound to be a store of wheat--or if
not wheat, then rice or some other edible grain--which would enable
us to pass through the coming winter without undue restriction of our
food supplies. It was perhaps a manifestation of that eternal optimism
which is necessary if the race is to survive at all; or possibly it
represented a trust in the Government’s capacity to arrange some means
whereby supplies would be forthcoming in due course. Whatever its
origin, it was among the most marked features of that strange time.
I remember that one of the side-issues of the disaster created at that
stage far deeper impressions than the catastrophe itself. With the
failure of the American supplies over a huge area, the Wheat Pit became
convulsed with an outbreak of gambling such as had never been seen
before. Chicago went crazy; and legitimate business gave place to a
fury of speculation which grew ever more intense as the news came in of
further extensions of the devastated areas. Before the Blight appeared
in America, December wheat had been offered at 233¼; but in the earlier
stages of the game of speculation it rushed up to 405: and before the
end came it was dealt with at prices which were purely illusory, since
they corresponded to nothing tangible in commodities. Thousands of
bears were ruined in the preliminary moves; and in the end the whole
machinery of the Pit was brought to a standstill owing to there being
no sellers.
Of course that series of transactions had no real influence upon the
course of events; but the public, both here and in America, failed to
see this; and the bitterest feelings found vent concerning “gambling in
the food of the people.” It is quite possible that the anger uselessly
expended on this subject served to keep the public from concentrating
their attention upon the real problem of the world shortage. Huge
quantities of wheat were dealt with on paper; and the people, being
unfamiliar with the methods of Chicago speculation, assumed that these
enormous transactions actually represented the transfer of millions
of bushels of real grain from seller to buyer. The sharp upward trend
of flour and bread prices at home served to confirm their impression
that the gambling in the Pit was responsible for their troubles; and
Rodman’s attempt--which was practically successful--to corner wheat,
led to violent criticism and even, at one time, to an effort to lynch
him.
It was not only in the wheat market that this fever of speculation
showed itself. Maize, oats, barley and cotton also became counters in
the game and rose to incredible prices. Unknown men appeared in the
world of finance and for days maintained their positions as controllers
of the markets. Many of the great firms in America ventured their
capital rashly and suffered disaster.
In its ultimate effects also, the gamble in food-stuffs exerted a
profound influence on the stream of public opinion. The news of the
speculations in Chicago, the descriptions of the turbulent scenes in
the Wheat Pit, where at one time revolvers were fired by super-excited
members, the tales of huge fortunes won and lost in a day, the deep
under-current of resentment at this callous trading upon the world’s
necessities, all tended in the end to bring into view the real state
of the wheat question. And now the newspapers were printing the single
word FAMINE as a headline; and the people were beginning to ask in
ominous tones: “What is the Government doing?”
It was at this time that, to my profound surprise, I received a private
letter from the Prime Minister requesting my attendance at a meeting
which he had arranged.