Conservation of Materials

Conservation of Materials

Part VIII of the series ‘England in Arms’

By W. Lacey Amy

From The Canadian Magazine, December 1917.

It required the war to convince the most pat­riotic of us that Great Britain was year by year becoming less self-contained, that by pro­cesses subtle or open her rivals in the world’s commerce, especially Ger­many, were gradually ousting her not alone from the foreign markets but from her own. And in the revelation that came with war one more eco­nomic theory received a staggering blow that manufacture of specific commodities should be left to the countries in a position to produce them most economically. The theory was unassailable were peace a per­manent blessing. But war has a habit of uprooting theory with relentless hand. There still remain in England those who resist the apparent corol­lary, that unprofitable national pro­duction must be protected, but the teachings of war are rendering their ideals at least momentarily unobtrus­ive. The grim straits through which Great Britain has passed since Au­gust, 1914, have impressed her with the national helplessness that accom­panies the relinquishment to foreign countries of national necessities. And as manufacturers are not the class who willingly produce at a loss in competition with their foreign rivals, there exists only the solution of Gov­ernment protection in some form.

Great Britain never realized how the very essentials of life were drift­ing into the hands of the Germans, until the sudden closing of the Ger­man market forced her to review her own industry. The facts forced home to her might well have discouraged another less resourceful coun­try. Not alone were the needs of everyday life unfulfillable, but some of the very weapons of war had so subtly trickled from British control that only British brain was able to cope with the situation without more than a temporary setback. Perhaps had the war been delayed ten years British brain might not have been so ready to re-grapple with a produc­tion she had lost only for a few years.

It is the popular impression that German dyes represent the climax of British dependence, but the dyes themselves are the least material of the deficiencies of British production. Not yet has the dominance of Ger­many in this commercial commodity been overcome, but adaptable substi­tutes are readily available, and dyes are in their nature immaterial to na­tional victory or even national life. Where the German monopoly of dye­stuffs looms most awkwardly is in the fact that Great Britain did not grasp their real significance as an indirect factor in international relations; for Germany’s monopoly was the result of her preparations for war, not of her superior inventive powers, the basis for dyes being the by-product of the manufacture of munitions. German dyes were subsidized in order to util­ize the coal-tar resulting from certain munition-making processes, and every dye-works was instantly convertible in time of war to war services. Dyes, therefore, have been the least of Great Britain’s troubles in the war.

In a thousand household needs Bri­tain’s dependence became revealed al­most with the declaration of war, and some of these were of sufficient im­portance to demand official attention at the same time as the more intimate ones of munition production. Since their manufacture has been permit­ted to creep into German hands more as an economic measure than through any inability to fulfil the local needs, they presented no striking problem. But in a score of the prime require­ments of war the effect was different. Certain processes of steel manufac­ture suitable for munitions were not practised in England. Electric sup­plies for Great Britain came almost entirely from our enemies. In the outskirts of London to-day lies idle an incomplete electric railway, be­cause construction was in the hands of German engineers using German fittings and principles. The little magnetoes that are essential to the aeroplane and the automobile were so completely of German manufac­ture that even to-day they are pro­duced in England by only two or three firms and their efficiency and cost is still not such as to supplant the German article should open com­petition recommence immediately. Germany was selling Great Britain all her finer grades of glass, such as those used for lenses and laboratory purposes. Great Britain had even permitted Germany to enter her dis­tant possessions for the practical monopolization of the minerals used in the working of steel processes. For her finer machinery required in the production of munitions Great Bri­tain is to-day at the mercy of Am­erica, since the English working engineer has not yet arrived at that nicety of adjustment, that perfection of specification which is absolutely necessary for serviceable and reliable instruments of war. I admit it with reluctance but with certainty of my ground. Indeed, English manufac­turers are candid in their statements that they must still look to America for the mechanical delicacy and nice­ty which have made British munition production one of the marvels of the war. This they may well leave where it is for the present, so long as Bri­tain’s energies are completely util­ized for more immediate require­ments. Its unsatisfactory feature is that this very mechanical perfection will be as essential to much of the coming industrial struggle of peace as it is now to the war output.

Toys, dolls, metal and leather novel­ties, gas mantles, brushes, certain popular earthenware, office requisites, musical instruments—these are a few of her daily wants for which Great Britain had been wont to send her travellers to the great German mar­kets, such as were represented at the Leipsic Fair.

There were other disadvantages under which Britain laboured on ac­count of her insular position. For her timber she was dependent largely on Norway, Sweden and Russia, and to a less degree on America. The skins for her leather came for the great part from abroad. Her paper was the product of foreign pulp. Her metals arrived by boat. In the bulk­ier raw materials England may be said to have been self-supporting only in coal.

Her problems would have been sim­ple, even in the face of these de­ficiencies, had it not been for the submarine warfare adopted by the en­emy. British control of the seas and of the shipping covering them would have assured her of sufficient supplies for her every want. The demands for war transportation would have embarrassed her shipping capacity to such a small extent that the simplest expedients of conservation would have sufficed. But with the sinkings and delays of unrestricted warfare conservation became a question equal­ly vital with the protection of the merchant shipping and the upkeep of the army. How she went about it is peculiar to a nation, proud, bound by tradition, reluctant to admit even in­convenience—and certain to overcome in the final emergency.

With the requisitioning of tonnage for war purposes—the transportation of soldiers, wounded, and supplies; patrolling the coasts, mine-sweeping, auxiliary cruiser duties—the neces­sity for some control of importations became evident. Certain luxuries were gradually eliminated from the freight lists, the bulkier unessentials first. A part of the tonnage was re­quisitioned for stated importations at Government rates. But the inade­quacy of these measures became ap­parent long before the sinkings were numerous enough to be an immediate menace, and the injustice of singling out a few ships and depriving them of the high rates obtainable by free ships clamoured for redress. In ad­dition, it gradually impressed itself on the nation that any satisfactory solution of the submarine menace en­tailed a more perfect organization for the elimination of delay in loading and unloading, as well as the speed­ing up of construction. For these purposes experienced officials were appointed. Construction was not only standardized, but workmen were utilized where they were of greatest service, irrespective of firms and em­ployers. The difficulty of delays in loading was met to some extent by mobile dockers’ battalions, and by a more strict supervision of transpor­tation and labour.

But shipping cannot be said to have been brought within the scope of a thorough control until the middle of 1917, when the Government took over ninety-seven per cent. of the entire British registry at Government rates. By this means it was not only assured of reasonable freight charges, but the entire capacity of the boats was di­rected with a sole eye to the real re­quirements of the situation. The move took the place of the scores of former regulations. It became no longer a case of publishing prohibited impor­tations but of satisfying the Govern­ment that purchases abroad were in the interests of the country at large. Every British liner was taken over, and the profits derived from private freight went to the nation. The re­sult was a pooling of interests by the large transportation companies. Long voyages gave place to short substi­tutes, and the facilities of the near­est ports were always available to save time. Shipowners arranged to purchase their ships’ stores and pro­visions abroad in order to save home stocks—an obvious act of wisdom that was so little recognized even during the early months of 1917 that Span­ish and Dutch and Norwegian ves­sels were continuing their custom of drawing their supplies from English ports. At the very moment when not a pound of potatoes was finding its way to the majority of tables in Great Britain these foreign ships were tak­ing away with them thousands of tons.

Land transportation, while not in the same emergent class as shipping, entered the scheme of conservation on account of the shortage of men, and because trucks and engines had been requisitioned for the use of the army in France. This was effected by reducing passenger service to the minimum, and by organizing deliv­ery so that the shortest route and dis­tance was compulsory. For instance, coal was brought to London only from the nearest mines and by the short­est line, the railways being brought under Government control to a dis­interested co-operation. One striking failure to complete the simplification of transportation was in the neglect of the canals that cut England in every direction. Whether this was owing to their railway ownership or to Governmental thoughtlessness is not clear, but such bulky freight as coal might have been poured into Lon­don by this means of transportation without disturbing the material so much in demand for quicker delivery.

The immediate need for metals and explosive ingredients for war pur­poses, as well as for other commodi­ties hitherto imported, drove Eng­land to measures never before con­templated. The Explosives Depart­ment of the Ministry of Munitions was organized to assume the duty of acquiring the necessary raw material of explosives. Glycerine was early placed on the controlled lists, and in February, 1917, was further restrict­ed to preparations of the British Pharmacopoeia and to uses approved by the Ministry. It was practically eliminated from dispensing. In March, the shortage being serious, a special branch of the Explosives De­partment was formed to take over control of all fats, oils, oil-seeds, and their products, including oilcake, soap, and margarine. For the same purpose the waste of camp canteens and messes has been carefully col­lected for more than a year. Since one of the by-products in the manu­facture of illuminating gas is a neces­sity for explosives, the people were urged to use gas where possible for heat, light and power. The huge de­mand for petrol led to the Govern­ment resuming the long-interrupted efforts to find oil in Great Britain, and in order to prevent exploitation the Crown assumed the exclusive right to bore. Should petroleum be discovered in quantity—and there have been signs that point to success—the submarine menace will be near­er to solution than it has ever been. The same prospecting is being under­taken for metals, although it is cer­tain that only small supplies of in­ferior quality will be found, lead and zinc comprising the bulk of British possibilities. Copper was requisition­ed in December, 1916, and its use for manufacturing purposes forbidden.

The control of petrol has been one of the big failures of attempted con­servation. For the first twenty months of the war this control rested in the hands of various inter-departmental committees whose main anxiety—as is the case in a hundred instances of divided control in England—was their authority and dignity. They competed against each other in the market and in shipping facilities and bought in the application of their au­thority even in war spheres. The Pe­trol Committee which succeeded them had not a petrol expert in its com­position, and at its best was impeded by a jealous Board of Trade. In dis­gust it resigned, after a period of in­adequate control and incompetent ef­forts. Its successor has proved more efficient. A different scheme has evolved. The principal petroleum companies have arranged a pool for distribution and importation, under the control of a Pool Board Petroleum Supplies. Restrictions were early put on petrol licences, and these have been extended at various times with the declared aim of cutting out pri­vate consumption. Business firms are allowed a certain amount for deliv­ery purposes. Taxi-cabs, of which there were 8,287 in London alone be­fore the war, were reduced to an al­lowance of thirty gallons a month, the most conspicuous result of which was to encourage the drivers to break the laws governing their service to the public. And motor-buses, which provide the popular means of trans­portation in London, were seriously curtailed. But the working of the restrictions was glaringly lax and un­fair. Petrol was wasted in the army sometimes used even for washing the trucks. Taxis, which usually carry but one passenger, were grant­ed petrol which if supplied to the in­terrupted bus service would have car­ried many times the number of pas­sengers. Until recently there were no restrictions whatever on the motor luxuries of officers, every one of whom of any rank has his own car and chauffeur for running about Eng­land. Day and night and Sundays this indulgence was unlimited until the middle of 1917, and since then its control has been evident only in the replies of Government officers be­fore the House of Commons. While private licences were supposed to be cut off in May, 1917, there is not a minute of the day when any import­ant street in London does not prove that civilians still ride at their plea­sure; and on Sundays the roads from London are still busy. In spite of the repeated official denials that pet­rol is granted for private use there is the frankest display of such waste. Even the social notes in the news­papers speak of wedding trips and visits to seaside resorts by motor, and the procuring of supplies demands but slight ingenuity. The greatest obstacle to such a perversion of a much-needed commodity is a price of $1.17 a gallon established in Au­gust, only twelve cents of which is Government tax. It is a detail of the recognized principle of regulation in England to reserve the privileges for the rich.

The shortage of petrol has led to the use of substitutes, but the fur­ther prohibition of liquid substitutes has confined the inventiveness of mo­tor enthusiasts to the utilization of gas.

Conservation of coal has been taken up officially, not because of a national shortage, but to save labour and trans­portation. In 1915 the price was fix­ed to prevent exploitation. In the spring of 1917 there was in London a severe shortage that bore heavily on the poor, who purchase in small quantities; and in the summer of that year steps were taken to prevent a repetition. A Coal Controller was ap­pointed to arrange delivery from the nearest mines and to equalize distri­bution. The Board of Trade issued advice to the people to purchase their winter supplies early, but when the orders poured in it was found there was not the coal to fill them. It was another instance of neglected prelim­inary organization before urging the public to action. The several in­stances of this which have occurred have done much to discourage public co-operation in attempted conserva­tion. The next step was to ration the coal according to the number of grates. A house with not more than four grates was allowed two hundred­weight a week, and the allotment was detailed up to two tons and a half for a house of more than fifteen rooms. Every consumer using more than two hundredweight a week had to register. The Controller’s plan was to work up to a five weeks’ stock in the coal yards, reducing the allow­ance as this quantity was reduced. The difficulties of such a system of rationing are obvious, since the ex­tent of occupation of a house, rather than its number of grates, determines its consumption. There is, too, no assurance that the rationed quantity will be available.

One of the early materials to be controlled was paper. Newspapers were cut down to definite quantities, based on their consumption during the year before the war, and this amount was further reduced in 1916. Importation was in the hands of the Government. The result was a dwin­dling of size and a consequent in­crease in price owing to the curtail­ment of advertising space. The Times rose by halfpenny stages to twopence, and many of the halfpenny papers advanced to a penny. In March, 1917, posters over a certain size were for­bidden, and tradesmen might not send out catalogues or price lists ex­cept on request. The newspaper con­tents bill, a feature of street an­nouncement in England, was pro­hibited. By the last measure alone it is estimated that 500 tons a week are saved. In July, 1917, the War Office arranged that, since the cas­ualty lists could no longer be pub­lished in the smaller papers, they should be issued weekly to the book­stores for sale. A few days later tradesmen were limited in their cir­culars and catalogues to a third the weight of paper used in the same period of the year before. And the whiteness of paper has been sacrificed in order to save bleaching powder.

In the matter of wearing apparel control was delayed as long as pos­sible. Leather had first to be taken in hand. The huge call for army boots was eating into the available supplies with disturbing rapidity, and in March, 1917, the Government took over all sole and upper leathers suitable for army use, following a less complete requisition of the previous December. Civilian footwear immedi­ately advanced. In June the Govern­ment made arrangements for the sale of old army boots at fixed centres, with the stipulation that they should not be patched but taken to pieces for repairing other shoes. The ob­ject was to prevent the scrapping of serviceable army boots. But shoe re­pairs continued to rise so seriously—soling advanced more than three hun­dred per cent. from the period before the war—that in September the Gov­ernment was forced once more to in­tervene and release for civilian use at fixed prices quantities of leather suitable for repairs.

An Advisory Committee on Wool Purchase was set up, representing the various Government departments con­cerned and civilian interests. It fix­ed prices and prescribed uses. Wool was not largely imported, but it was deemed advisable to continue exports as well as to supply home needs. Standard cloth is now produced for officers’ uniforms, and civilian wear will probably be similarly controlled. The manufacture of cotton has had to be curtailed, although it is one of England’s leading manufactures. Blankets are in Government control for army use and only such quanti­ties released for civilian use as are considered necessary.

All stocks of sawn timber in the United Kingdom were taken over by the Government in February, 1917, and in July the Local Government Board urged local authorities to for­go the use of wood-paving for the period of the war. In January anastigmatic lenses of defined focal lengths were requisitioned. In Feb­ruary the supplies of jute in the coun­try were commandeered. In June citizens were requested by the Board of Trade not to waste glass recept­acles of any kind. Metal spur, chains, buttons and badges of rank on officers’ uniforms were abolished, leather spur straps and buttons, and worsted badges of rank taking their place. Stone quarries were taken over in July.

General prevention of waste and of misdirection of effort was applied in a score of ways. Building and pri­vate motor-making were stopped. A new Bill was introduced for the pre­vention of corruption in Government contracts. A department was set up for the utilization of idle machinery. In 1916 an Order-in-Council empow­ered the Admiralty and Army Coun­cil to regulate or prohibit transac­tions in any article required in con­nection with the war. No horse suit­able for cultivation of land might be sold by the land occupier without licence. To save fuel illuminated ad­vertisements and lights outside shops and theatres were prohibited in May. 1917. In extension of this principle two of the large London stores closed on Saturdays.

Of course, with all this evident shortage there was profiteering. The case of matches affords a good ex­ample. These sold before the war as low as three cents a dozen boxes. To­day they are as high as thirty-two cents, although the manufacturers in­sist that not more than sixteen cents should be asked the consumer. In addition to their high price there are times when they cannot be obtained at all, and the stores release to each customer only a small box or two. The Government, knowing there were sufficient stocks somewhere, has taken steps to control distribution. A pool of manufacturers has been formed, and orders will be taken only through a Match Control Office in London, which will be under the Tobacco Con­trol Board.

In these measures of conservation it was necessary at times to ignore the claims even of allied countries. France, being close at hand and Great Britain’s source for much that might be called luxuries, has suffered most keenly. Fruit, wine, and silk were the largest of these importations. At various times all these products of our friends across the Channel have been either restricted or prohibited. Protest has been made, and at times mild reprisals applied, but common sense has prevailed. In some cases the protesting country yielded, in others the restrictions were modified. A general agreement between the two countries was announced in Septem­ber. By it England takes from France goods of French origin, ex­cept such as wood, motor-cars, ma­chinery, gold, spirits, and ornamental goods; and France has thrown her doors open to everything but cotton and woollen piece goods, soap, and oils. The fact that England has the European Allies almost completely at her mercy on account of her con­trol of shipping is proof of the wis­dom and justice of her treatment of them.

The straits into which the war has thrown Great Britain in the matter of material supplies are not without their blessing. The people of the small island which has dominated the world for so many centuries are learn­ing how luxurious and enervating was their style of life among certain classes, how much they can eliminate without serious inconvenience—even with advantage—and how near they were to losing valuable markets. The necessities of war have developed an inventiveness that was tending to doze and have taught the wisdom of great­er dependence on their own produc­tions than upon those of other coun­tries who appraise more truly the value of industrial eminence in the world’s markets. England after the war will swing swiftly into the Eng­land she can be, a resourceful coun­try that need give precedence to no rival in commercial as well as in in­tellectual attainments.

The next article of this series is entitled “The Enemy in England”.

The Food Problem

The Food Problem

Part VII of ‘England in Arms’

By W. Lacey Amy

From The Canadian Magazine, November 1917

To date the problem faced in the feeding of the people of the British Isles is not that of food shortage, but of food distribution. To the foreigner that assertion may seem to deprive the situation of most of its seriousness; to us who live through it and watch its development there­in lies more menace than in the ex­pressed hopes of the Kaiser. British ingenuity may be depended upon more confidently to overcome the enemy than to alter internal affairs in order to cope with unusual condi­tions. Nothing is so powerful against the Englishman as his habits and system.

No one in the British Isles has felt the pinch of hunger. And it is not likely that anyone will. What suffer­ing there has been arises from the temporary shortage of unessentials and from high prices. Sugar and potatoes sum up the total of national deprivations owing to the war, and never did they approach privations because there has always been some­thing to take their places. Before there is actual want the British will have solved the submarine. But after three years of a situation that has continually pointed to food as one of the vital factors in the winning of victory they are only now nearing the solution of a situation with which the enemy has nothing to do—which is, indeed, indigenous to the British race, but more particularly to that section of it residing in England and Scotland.

The problem of distribution is two­fold. The limitation of supplies—rather the necessity of conserving for an uncertain future—demands an equality of distribution that ignored individuals and class. The second difficulty is the British character—an independence which resents con­trol and dictation. Of the two the latter was the more immediately dan­gerous at the beginning of the con­servation movement. But common sense is asserting itself, so that equal­ity of distribution now occupies the time of the Food Controller. When he found temperance in eating to be so necessary as to justify Govern­ment action, the Englishman yield­ed to a pressure which he naturally resists. But having yielded, he was forced to set to work on the national system of class favouritism—as, in­deed, he has been forced to do in every problem connected with the war.

It was Britain’s unquestioned com­mand of the seas that delayed food measures which were reasonable from the very first gun. That inbred and time-honoured confidence in victory laid a heavy hand on reasonable pro­vision and prevision in every act of war. In the matter of food arbitrary measures did not seem to be necessary early in the struggle. Depend­ing entirely, as it did, on the control of the seas, Great Britain was justi­fied in her confidence, a confidence that would never have been shaken had the Germans adhered to the rules of warfare.

One measure only was taken early in the war to protect the food supply of the British Isles, an obvious one immediately demanded by the fact that they had been procuring more than sixty per cent. of their sugar from Germany. A Sugar Commis­sion was appointed. Thereafter, for more than two years, even when the casual onlooker was viewing the situa­tion with alarm and the Asquith Gov­ernment itself was talking much of plans in the House, nothing further was done. Always in the mind of the people was the thought that the enemy could not drive Great Britain to defensive measures that would re­flect upon its special sphere of power; and in the mind of the Government was the hope that political balances need not be disturbed by restrictive action certain to be resented in some quarters. For it must not be imag­ined that party aims and hopes dis­appeared with the formation of a Coalition Cabinet.

The second official move of import­ance was made in October, 1916, when a Wheat Commission undertook to readjust the grain situation. Unfor­tunately it was weighted down with the Asquith love of laisser-faire, and its duties never materialized into ef­fective action. At a time when the enemy was openly sinking merchant vessels and threatening more, when the demands of military operations and national supply were so deflect­ing shipping from the ordinary chan­nels of food transportation that re­serves of grain in the British Isles were being seriously depleted, no action was taken towards replenish­ing these supplies from a world’s pro­duction that was above the normal. America and Australia were offering the grain, but England was not will­ing to disturb the trend of affairs in order to facilitate the acceptance of the offers.

The press of England was becom­ing alive to the menace, and the Eng­lish press has a voice more powerful than that of its brother across the ocean. The people were growing anxious. The difficulty of securing sugar was impressing even the thoughtless with the need for action. Mr. Asquith was forced to promise operations which were loathsome to him, not alone for their antagonism to his policy, but for the danger he well saw would arise therefrom to his personal popularity. He an­nounced the establishment of a new department headed by a Food Con­troller. It promised well. But the Food Controller was never appoint­ed. Week after week the country waited. Mr. Asquith was at his best in his promises of what that import­ant official would do—in his explana­tions of the delay. He was at his most natural in his inability to come to the point of action.

It was the accumulation of such dilatory acts as these that brought about his downfall. Just three days before an anxious Cabinet, backed by a roused people, demanded his resig­nation, Mr. Runciman, one of his Ministers, placed before the country one lone food measure that even then looked like a small mouse for the mountain to bring forth. Restric­tions were placed on restaurant fare—or rather attempted restrictions. Luncheon was to be a two-course meal and the ample English restaurant dinner was to be limited to three courses.

With that heritage Lloyd George assumed power. His first discovery in connection with the food situation was that his predecessor had taken no inventory of the nation’s supplies, had made no move to simplify the work of the Food Department, which had immediately to be organized. One of the first officials appointed in the new Government was a Food Con­troller, Lord Devonport, a man whose intimate connection with food supply as the head of a large multiple store company seemed to qualify him for the position. It was a disappointment to the country and to the Premier himself that the seeming qualifica­tions for the Controller’s office should in the end prove the insuperable obstacle to his effectiveness. Lord Devonport introduced many measures intended to cope with a situation passing rapidly into a serious stage, but a calm survey of them discovers them to be, after all, paltry, a mere touching of the surface.

Lord Devonport took pleasure in vetoing the Runciman restaurant or­der four months after it had been put into effect, and almost the same time after its folly had become evi­dent. The limited course meal brought only one result, that diners ate more solid meat, and less of the odds and ends, the entrees and unessentials and make-overs, that give the dainti­est touch to restaurant fare without affecting food stocks. Men formerly content with a small helping of meat in the interests of the decorative courses, demanded meat and bread and cheese, the basis of subsistence. The new Food Controller, too, was forced to deal with bread, tea, con­fectionery, potatoes and other vege­tables, and sugar.

His substitute for the Runciman restaurant control was a meatless day and a limitation of the amounts of meat, bread and sugar served at each meal. This was later altered because of its drain on bread in order to take the place of meat on the meatless day. Bread he attempted to regulate by prohibiting its sale until twelve hours after baking, and by limiting its shape, weight and constituents. The adulteration of flour by maize or rice, and the prohibition of the waste that produces white flour, resulted in what is known as war bread. It was an effective measure, despite the con­tinued opposition of the people. Tea—considered in England almost as great a food necessity as bread—was regulated in its cheaper qualities. A curb was put on the use of sugar in confectionery, pastry and icing. In the early part of 1917 potatoes were passing so rapidly into the list of shortages that price limitation was necessary. Three cents a pound for old stock was established for the early months, rising later a half-cent. But no measures could increase the sup­ply, and no attempt was made to pre­vent the farmers holding their stocks for higher prices. For months it might be said there were no potatoes in England. And with the failure of potatoes the vegetable substitutes ad­vanced until the Food Controller was forced to limit the price of some of them.

Where Lord Devonport failed was in his reluctance to take a firm stand, to enforce the law, and principally to curtail the profits of the trader. He attempted to solve the problem by appeal. A chart of patriotic pro­portions in the daily diet was flung at the public in a thousand ways. The fences were covered with it, the news­papers gave it daily space, lecturers flooded the country, and, at a time when the shortage of paper was seri­ous, the workingmen’s pay envelopes were crammed with a literature he never read. To the credit of the coun­try the consumption of bread and meat materially decreased. But the two insuperable obstacles to success were the inability of ninety per cent. of the people to purchase the advised ration of sugar and the eagerness of some to seize the opportunity for gorging. While there were millions willing to curb their appetites there were flaunting thousands of pro-Ger­man sympathies or utter carelessness whose delight it was to evade the ap­peal and the laws. And at the very time when the people were begged to stint themselves interned and impri­soned Germans were allowed many times the ration; sugar and potatoes were being commandeered for them when the workers of the country had to go without. The inconsistencies of the situation were intolerable, and the effectiveness of the appeal diminished weekly.

In the matter of enforcing the law there was singular laxness. Here and there a dealer was fined, although it was impossible to go on the streets without seeing plainly advertised in­fractions of the food laws. And the fine was usually but a small part of the profit made from the illicit trans­action. Indeed, there was apparent, in store and home and restaurant, a merry revelry of law evasion that un­did the patriotism of those who hon­estly rationed themselves.

Profiteering went on without re­striction. Lord Devonport, head of a big grocery concern, persisted in refusing to limit the profits of gro­cers save in a few glaring and insig­nificant cases. Swedes, for instance, the substitute for potatoes, were limit­ed in price to three cents a pound, a price so many times what the farmer and greengrocer had been receiving that neither could complain. The setting of prices for potatoes and beans was much advertised but unimport­ant, for both disappeared from the market almost immediately. Although the cost of bread to miller and baker was materially decreased by the new laws, the price advanced instantly to the consumer two to four cents a four-pound loaf. While a few bakers out­side London were content with the profits from seventeen-cent bread, the London baker charged twenty-four. The attempt to democratize tea was a failure. Forty per cent. of the im­portations were to be sold to the pub­lic at fifty-two and fifty-six cents, but no one was ever able to purchase a pound of the cheaper price, to my knowledge, and if the better quality of Government tea was inquired for it was either out of stock or sneered at by the grocer. Neither price was ever displayed in the windows dur­ing Lord Devonport’s term. The same happened with cheese. A large part of it was taken over by the Govern­ment to be sold over the counter for thirty-two cents, but it never appear­ed on the shelves of more than a very few stores.

With meat no attempt was made to interfere until the last days of Lord Devonport’s office, and then only the speculator was eliminated, the re­tailer being permitted to ask what he pleased. Of the retailers the butcher was the most heartless profiteer, the consumer being asked sixty to one hundred and fifty per cent. profit over the wholesale prices. Even the sup­plies controlled by the Government, such as New Zealand mutton, were turned loose upon arrival in England for the wholesaler and retailer to make what profit he wished. Laid down in London by the Government at thirteen cents, it reached the pub­lic at thirty-six to sixty cents. The butcher could not buy it without a large purchase of English mutton at extravagant prices. And in the mean­time, in order to maintain the level of prices, tons of meat were left to rot on the docks.

There is no better example of the injudicious and unfair distribution of supplies than sugar, the commodity that has induced several crises al­ready. To the people the only result of the Sugar Commission was an im­mediate rise in price. Against this there has been constant complaint, for it is known that the rise repre­sented taxation and Government pro­fit. It was not until the latter part of 1916 that a shortage began serious­ly to be felt; but from the first pinch the shortage increased until stocks seemed to have disappeared from the market, so far as the poorer classes were concerned. By December women were walking the streets from shop to shop begging half-pounds. Queues had not then commenced, because sugar was the only shortage and the grocer sold only to whom he liked.

It is this independence of the mer­chant that has driven home to the country the disaster of typical of­ficial control, so called. Each week the Sugar Commission released to the wholesalers their shares of the avail­able supplies, and washed their hands of any further connection with the commodity. Theoretically the whole­saler was supposed to pass on to the grocer his share, but that he had favourites is proved by the fact that some of the large West End stores seemed never to be without sugar, while the small grocer of the East End was denied a pound. It must be remembered that every pound of sugar shipped to England was Gov­ernment-controlled. No control what­ever was exercised over the retailer save in the matter of price, and the shortage of the available supplies en­abled him to make sugar the basis of his trade. He sold to whom he pleas­ed in the quantities he pleased. His independence became impudence. A customer was always a beggar, for he was entirely at the mercy of his gro­cer. Sugar was denied those who could not afford to make their pur­chases extravagant. Some system seemed to arrive with the demand for a purchase of fifty cents’ worth of other goods with each half-pound or pound of sugar, and this was accept­ed by the authorities as a wise pro­vision against wasteful purchases of the limited commodity. It was the strength of class in England that for many months prevented the authori­ties from realizing that such a stipu­lation reserved sugar for the rich who could afford to buy supplies they did not need in order to obtain the sugar they did. It was only when the mer­chants began to extend the same de­mand to the purchase of other food­stuffs that the Government forbade any conditions with the sale of sugar. But the grocer was still left to sell to whom he pleased. No improvement whatever resulted, since the grocer simply refused to sell until another large order was given.

The cry of the poor—the long, hope­less queues, the untrained cooks help­less to provide for their large families without that which had made up such a large part of their food—was piti­ful. And all the time the West End shops were selling it in fifty-pound lots or less. The Government’s loose effort to enable fruit-growers to pre­serve their fruit was equally unfair. The growers sent in their require­ments, and the sugar was released to the grocer mentioned in the requisi­tion, but without any control over the amount he passed on to the grower. Of four friends, no two received the same proportion of that which they had asked for, the amount varying from fifty to ninety per cent. No one knows what the grocer should have given out. The latest measure in the handling of sugar, to come into force in October, is a form of card supply, but still there is no safeguard that the grocer will sell to his customers their individual shares of the avail­able supplies.

The clamorous protest arising was more than threatening. Lord Devonport accepted the inevitable and re­signed. Lord Rhondda assumed the thankless job. It is typical of Eng­lish public life that only a titled man is considered competent to undertake public work. The war has introduced a Geddes or two; others will have to follow. Particularly unfortunate in the matter of controlling resources is this habit, since these wealthy titled men are so closely concerned in a financial way with the industries and commerce of the country that unpre­judiced outlook is nigh to impossible. Lord Rhondda had made good in his first Government office and in private life, and initiative was not lacking. His misfortune was that he was ap­pointed at a time when public im­patience would not brook delay. With­out time to study the situation and devise methods he was driven to in­stant action. The result was a hun­dred more or less vague promises that seemed to fit in with the demands of the people, and one act only of the immediate future. Profiteering was the bête noire of the people, and on profiteering he came out strong—in word. Thus far there is only the promise that profiteering will be pun­ished by imprisonment. Speculation is to be stopped, how is not apparent. Lord Devonport had already issued orders to that effect in the case of meat without affecting much the price to the consumer. The only definite act which would tend to soothe the people was an obvious expedient. It dealt with the commodity most fa­miliar to the table—bread. Bread was ordered to be sold—some time in the future—at eighteen cents a quartern loaf.

Realizing that the British Isles might be called upon to depend upon their own resources, he turned to the farmer. Land was tilled that had never been broken for centuries, and the farmer became a real producer. If he didn’t, there was a law to take his land from him temporarily. Ploughing was done by tractor, night and day and Sundays. The added crop acreage was expected to amount to millions, but lack of tractors and help and quick co-operation reduced the amount to less than half a million acres. Next year the millions are promised. Allotments sprang up everywhere—vacant lots, golf links, railway tracks, parks. London alone is producing eight hundred extra acres of vegetables. The additional growth has reduced the price of po­tatoes for the moment to less than it was before the war; and the absence of market organization is leaving tons to rot, England was driven to act before she could complete the organ­ization necessary to reap the greatest reward.

The solution does not yet appear. If the submarine continues even its present success, and the measures of the future do not improve substan­tially on those of the past, the British Isles will feel want. Private profits, private shipping, block all the Gov­ernment can do. The controlling in­fluences of supply and demand are non-existent in time of war. With Government interference they lost al­most all their power, in all justice. To continue that power is to exploit the Government of the people at the cost of the people. To-day the old tenet of the economist means nothing more, in the case of importations, than to ask the people, at their own ex­pense, to make trade possible by im­port regulations and transportation protection, and then to expect them to pay the trader according to the volume and expense of that protec­tion. And locally-grown products are directly dependent for price, especial­ly in England, on the available stocks from without.

The stopping of profiteering is a pleasant ambition to talk about but an over-lofty one to anticipate. Pro­fiteering does not end with the grocer and butcher, the wholesaler and ship­per. It has entered into every phase of home life. Only the man in khaki, who assumes all the risk of war, is precluded from it. The workingman, the clerk, the farmer, the thousands of Government officials who have risen with the war—even the Govern­ment itself—are profiting from the war. But the burden is uneven. The workingman of England can present a good defence in terms of compara­tive wage scale, but in terms of total receipt—which is the basis of his liv­ing—he might be called a profiteer. His five pence an hour of pre-war days may have increased only sixty per cent., while living has advanced one hundred; but his week’s envelope contains probably three times—often six and ten times—what it did before the war. The decreased facilities for drink and idleness keep him longer at work, and the additions of bonus and overtime are not infrequently greater than his regular wage.

The next article of this series will discuss the elaborate plans being made in England for the conservation of materials.