The Council of Four paid no attention to these issues, being preoccupied with others,—­Clemenceau to crush the economic life of his enemy, Lloyd George to do a deal and bring home something which would pass muster for a week, the President to do nothing that was not just and right.  It is an extraordinary fact that the fundamental economic problems of a Europe starving and disintegrating before their eyes, was the one question in which it was impossible to arouse the interest of the Four.  Reparation was their main excursion into the economic field, and they settled it as a problem of theology, of polities, of electoral chicane, from every point of view except that of the economic future of the States whose destiny they were handling.

I leave, from this point onwards, Paris, the Conference, and the Treaty, briefly to consider the present situation of Europe, as the War and the Peace have made it; and it will no longer be part of my purpose to distinguish between the inevitable fruits of the War and the avoidable misfortunes of the Peace.

The essential facts of the situation, as I see them, are expressed simply.  Europe consists of the densest aggregation of population in the history of the world.  This population is accustomed to a relatively high standard of life, in which, even now, some sections of it anticipate improvement rather than deterioration.  In relation to other continents Europe is not self-sufficient; in particular it cannot feed Itself.  Internally the population is not evenly distributed, but much of it is crowded into a relatively small number of dense industrial centers.  This population secured for itself a livelihood before the war, without much margin of surplus, by means of a delicate and immensely complicated organization, of which the foundations were supported by coal, iron, transport, and an unbroken supply of imported food and raw materials from other continents.  By the destruction of this organization and the interruption of the stream of supplies, a part of this population is deprived of its means of livelihood.  Emigration is not open to the redundant surplus.  For it would take years to transport them overseas, even, which is not the case, if countries could be found which were ready to receive them.  The danger confronting us, therefore, is the rapid depression of the standard of life of the European populations to a point which will mean actual starvation for some (a point already reached in Russia and approximately reached in Austria).  Men will not always die quietly.  For starvation, which brings to some lethargy and a helpless despair, drives other temperaments to the nervous instability of hysteria and to a mad despair.  And these in their distress may overturn the remnants of organization, and submerge civilization itself in their attempts to satisfy desperately the overwhelming needs of the individual.  This is the danger against which all our resources and courage and idealism must now co-operate.