In the first year or so following the Armistice there was a curious contradiction in the prevailing attitude towards the economic situation at home. The newspapers were full of headlines about the Road to Ruin and National Bankruptcy; the Government plainly was unable to make both ends meet; the financial world was immensely relieved when America postponed the payments of debts to her; we were pathetically appealing to her to come and save us; the British sovereign, which for generations has been a standard of value for the world and the symbol of security, dropped to a discount of 20 per cent, in terms of the dollar; our Continental creditors were even worse off; the French could only pay us in a depreciated paper currency, the value of which in terms of the dollar varied between a third and a fourth of what it was before the War; the lira was cheaper still. Yet side by side with this we had stories of a trade boom (especially in textiles and cotton), so great that merchants and manufacturers refused to go to their offices, in order to dodge the flood of orders so vastly in excess of what they could fulfil. Side by side with depreciated paper currency, with public debts so crippling that the Government could only balance its budget by loans which were not successful when floated, the amusement trades flourished as never before. Theatre, music hall, and cinematograph receipts beat all records. There was a greater demand for motor-cars than the trade could supply. The Riviera was fuller than it had ever been before. The working class itself was competing with others for the purchase of luxuries which in the past that class never knew. And while the financial situation made it impossible, apparently, to find capital for building houses to live in, ample capital was forthcoming wherewith to build cinema palaces. We heard and read of famine almost at our doors, and saw great prosperity around us; read daily of impending bankruptcy--and of high profits and lavish spending; of world-wide unrest and revolution--and higher wages than the workers had ever known. Complex and contradictory as the facts seemed, the difficulty of a true estimate was rendered greater by the position in which European Governments found themselves placed. These Governments were faced by the necessity of maintaining credit and confidence at almost any cost. They must not, therefore, throw too great an emphasis upon the dark features. Yet the need for economy and production was declared to be as great as it was during the war. To create a mood of seriousness and sober resolution adequate to the situation would involve stressing facts which, in their efforts to obtain loans, internal or external, and to maintain credit, governments were compelled to minimise.