No More Learning

PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD, 1798.




Preface


The following Essay owes its origin to a conversation with a friend, on
the subject of Mr Godwin's essay on avarice and profusion, in his
Enquirer. The discussion started the general question of the future
improvement of society, and the Author at first sat down with an
intention of merely stating his thoughts to his friend, upon paper, in
a clearer manner than he thought he could do in conversation. But as
the subject opened upon him, some ideas occurred, which he did not
recollect to have met with before; and as he conceived that every least
light, on a topic so generally interesting, might be received with
candour, he determined to put his thoughts in a form for publication.

The Essay might, undoubtedly, have been rendered much more complete by
a collection of a greater number of facts in elucidation of the general
argument. But a long and almost total interruption from very particular
business, joined to a desire (perhaps imprudent) of not delaying the
publication much beyond the time that he originally proposed, prevented
the Author from giving to the subject an undivided attention. He
presumes, however, that the facts which he has adduced will be found to
form no inconsiderable evidence for the truth of his opinion respecting
the future improvement of mankind. As the Author contemplates this
opinion at present, little more appears to him to be necessary than a
plain statement, in addition to the most cursory view of society, to
establish it.

It is an obvious truth, which has been taken notice of by many writers,
that population must always be kept down to the level of the means of
subsistence; but no writer that the Author recollects has inquired
particularly into the means by which this level is effected: and it is
a view of these means which forms, to his mind, the strongest obstacle
in the way to any very great future improvement of society. He hopes it
will appear that, in the discussion of this interesting subject, he is
actuated solely by a love of truth, and not by any prejudices against
any particular set of men, or of opinions. He professes to have read
some of the speculations on the future improvement of society in a
temper very different from a wish to find them visionary, but he has
not acquired that command over his understanding which would enable him
to believe what he wishes, without evidence, or to refuse his assent to
what might be unpleasing, when accompanied with evidence.

The view which he has given of human life has a melancholy hue, but he
feels conscious that he has drawn these dark tints from a conviction
that they are really in the picture, and not from a jaundiced eye or an
inherent spleen of disposition. The theory of mind which he has
sketched in the two last chapters accounts to his own understanding in
a satisfactory manner for the existence of most of the evils of life,
but whether it will have the same effect upon others must be left to
the judgement of his readers.

If he should succeed in drawing the attention of more able men to what
he conceives to be the principal difficulty in the way to the
improvement of society and should, in consequence, see this difficulty
removed, even in theory, he will gladly retract his present opinions
and rejoice in a conviction of his error.

7 June 1798




CHAPTER 1

Question stated--Little prospect of a determination of it, from the
enmity of the opposing parties--The principal argument against the
perfectibility of man and of society has never been fairly
answered--Nature of the difficulty arising from population--Outline of
the principal argument of the Essay


The great and unlooked for discoveries that have taken place of late
years in natural philosophy, the increasing diffusion of general
knowledge from the extension of the art of printing, the ardent and
unshackled spirit of inquiry that prevails throughout the lettered and
even unlettered world, the new and extraordinary lights that have been
thrown on political subjects which dazzle and astonish the
understanding, and particularly that tremendous phenomenon in the
political horizon, the French Revolution, which, like a blazing comet,
seems destined either to inspire with fresh life and vigour, or to
scorch up and destroy the shrinking inhabitants of the earth, have all
concurred to lead many able men into the opinion that we were touching
on a period big with the most important changes, changes that would in
some measure be decisive of the future fate of mankind.

It has been said that the great question is now at issue, whether man
shall henceforth start forwards with accelerated velocity towards
illimitable, and hitherto unconceived improvement, or be condemned to a
perpetual oscillation between happiness and misery, and after every
effort remain still at an immeasurable distance from the wished-for
goal.

Yet, anxiously as every friend of mankind must look forwards to the
termination of this painful suspense, and eagerly as the inquiring mind
would hail every ray of light that might assist its view into futurity,
it is much to be lamented that the writers on each side of this
momentous question still keep far aloof from each other. Their mutual
arguments do not meet with a candid examination. The question is not
brought to rest on fewer points, and even in theory scarcely seems to
be approaching to a decision.

The advocate for the present order of things is apt to treat the sect
of speculative philosophers either as a set of artful and designing
knaves who preach up ardent benevolence and draw captivating pictures
of a happier state of society only the better to enable them to destroy
the present establishments and to forward their own deep-laid schemes
of ambition, or as wild and mad-headed enthusiasts whose silly
speculations and absurd paradoxes are not worthy the attention of any
reasonable man.

The advocate for the perfectibility of man, and of society, retorts on
the defender of establishments a more than equal contempt. He brands
him as the slave of the most miserable and narrow prejudices; or as the
defender of the abuses of civil society only because he profits by
them. He paints him either as a character who prostitutes his
understanding to his interest, or as one whose powers of mind are not
of a size to grasp any thing great and noble, who cannot see above five
yards before him, and who must therefore be utterly unable to take in
the views of the enlightened benefactor of mankind.

In this unamicable contest the cause of truth cannot but suffer. The
really good arguments on each side of the question are not allowed to
have their proper weight. Each pursues his own theory, little
solicitous to correct or improve it by an attention to what is advanced
by his opponents.

The friend of the present order of things condemns all political
speculations in the gross. He will not even condescend to examine the
grounds from which the perfectibility of society is inferred. Much less
will he give himself the trouble in a fair and candid manner to attempt
an exposition of their fallacy.

The speculative philosopher equally offends against the cause of truth.
With eyes fixed on a happier state of society, the blessings of which
he paints in the most captivating colours, he allows himself to indulge
in the most bitter invectives against every present establishment,
without applying his talents to consider the best and safest means of
removing abuses and without seeming to be aware of the tremendous
obstacles that threaten, even in theory, to oppose the progress of man
towards perfection.

It is an acknowledged truth in philosophy that a just theory will
always be confirmed by experiment. Yet so much friction, and so many
minute circumstances occur in practice, which it is next to impossible
for the most enlarged and penetrating mind to foresee, that on few
subjects can any theory be pronounced just, till all the arguments
against it have been maturely weighed and clearly and consistently
refuted.

I have read some of the speculations on the perfectibility of man and
of society with great pleasure. I have been warmed and delighted with
the enchanting picture which they hold forth. I ardently wish for such
happy improvements. But I see great, and, to my understanding,
unconquerable difficulties in the way to them. These difficulties it is
my present purpose to state, declaring, at the same time, that so far
from exulting in them, as a cause of triumph over the friends of
innovation, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see them
completely removed.

The most important argument that I shall adduce is certainly not new.
The principles on which it depends have been explained in part by Hume,
and more at large by Dr Adam Smith. It has been advanced and applied to
the present subject, though not with its proper weight, or in the most
forcible point of view, by Mr Wallace, and it may probably have been
stated by many writers that I have never met with. I should certainly
therefore not think of advancing it again, though I mean to place it in
a point of view in some degree different from any that I have hitherto
seen, if it had ever been fairly and satisfactorily answered.

The cause of this neglect on the part of the advocates for the
perfectibility of mankind is not easily accounted for. I cannot doubt
the talents of such men as Godwin and Condorcet. I am unwilling to
doubt their candour. To my understanding, and probably to that of most
others, the difficulty appears insurmountable. Yet these men of
acknowledged ability and penetration scarcely deign to notice it, and
hold on their course in such speculations with unabated ardour and
undiminished confidence. I have certainly no right to say that they
purposely shut their eyes to such arguments. I ought rather to doubt
the validity of them, when neglected by such men, however forcibly
their truth may strike my own mind. Yet in this respect it must be
acknowledged that we are all of us too prone to err. If I saw a glass
of wine repeatedly presented to a man, and he took no notice of it, I
should be apt to think that he was blind or uncivil. A juster
philosophy might teach me rather to think that my eyes deceived me and
that the offer was not really what I conceived it to be.

In entering upon the argument I must premise that I put out of the
question, at present, all mere conjectures, that is, all suppositions,
the probable realization of which cannot be inferred upon any just
philosophical grounds. A writer may tell me that he thinks man will
ultimately become an ostrich. I cannot properly contradict him. But
before he can expect to bring any reasonable person over to his
opinion, he ought to shew that the necks of mankind have been gradually
elongating, that the lips have grown harder and more prominent, that
the legs and feet are daily altering their shape, and that the hair is
beginning to change into stubs of feathers. And till the probability of
so wonderful a conversion can be shewn, it is surely lost time and lost
eloquence to expatiate on the happiness of man in such a state; to
describe his powers, both of running and flying, to paint him in a
condition where all narrow luxuries would be contemned, where he would
be employed only in collecting the necessaries of life, and where,
consequently, each man's share of labour would be light, and his
portion of leisure ample.

I think I may fairly make two postulata.

First, That food is necessary to the existence of man.

Secondly, That the passion between the sexes is necessary and will
remain nearly in its present state.

These two laws, ever since we have had any knowledge of mankind, appear
to have been fixed laws of our nature, and, as we have not hitherto
seen any alteration in them, we have no right to conclude that they
will ever cease to be what they now are, without an immediate act of
power in that Being who first arranged the system of the universe, and
for the advantage of his creatures, still executes, according to fixed
laws, all its various operations.

I do not know that any writer has supposed that on this earth man will
ultimately be able to live without food. But Mr Godwin has conjectured
that the passion between the sexes may in time be extinguished. As,
however, he calls this part of his work a deviation into the land of
conjecture, I will not dwell longer upon it at present than to say that
the best arguments for the perfectibility of man are drawn from a
contemplation of the great progress that he has already made from the
savage state and the difficulty of saying where he is to stop. But
towards the extinction of the passion between the sexes, no progress
whatever has hitherto been made. It appears to exist in as much force
at present as it did two thousand or four thousand years ago. There are
individual exceptions now as there always have been. But, as these
exceptions do not appear to increase in number, it would surely be a
very unphilosophical mode of arguing to infer, merely from the
existence of an exception, that the exception would, in time, become
the rule, and the rule the exception.

Assuming then my postulata as granted, I say, that the power of
population is indefinitely greater than the power in the earth to
produce subsistence for man.

Population, when unchecked, increases in a geometrical ratio.
Subsistence increases only in an arithmetical ratio. A slight
acquaintance with numbers will shew the immensity of the first power in
comparison of the second.

By that law of our nature which makes food necessary to the life of
man, the effects of these two unequal powers must be kept equal.

This implies a strong and constantly operating check on population from
the difficulty of subsistence. This difficulty must fall somewhere and
must necessarily be severely felt by a large portion of mankind.

Through the animal and vegetable kingdoms, nature has scattered the
seeds of life abroad with the most profuse and liberal hand. She has
been comparatively sparing in the room and the nourishment necessary to
rear them. The germs of existence contained in this spot of earth, with
ample food, and ample room to expand in, would fill millions of worlds
in the course of a few thousand years. Necessity, that imperious all
pervading law of nature, restrains them within the prescribed bounds.
The race of plants and the race of animals shrink under this great
restrictive law. And the race of man cannot, by any efforts of reason,
escape from it. Among plants and animals its effects are waste of seed,
sickness, and premature death. Among mankind, misery and vice. The
former, misery, is an absolutely necessary consequence of it. Vice is a
highly probable consequence, and we therefore see it abundantly
prevail, but it ought not, perhaps, to be called an absolutely
necessary consequence. The ordeal of virtue is to resist all temptation
to evil.

This natural inequality of the two powers of population and of
production in the earth, and that great law of our nature which must
constantly keep their effects equal, form the great difficulty that to
me appears insurmountable in the way to the perfectibility of society.
All other arguments are of slight and subordinate consideration in
comparison of this. I see no way by which man can escape from the
weight of this law which pervades all animated nature. No fancied
equality, no agrarian regulations in their utmost extent, could remove
the pressure of it even for a single century. And it appears,
therefore, to be decisive against the possible existence of a society,
all the members of which should live in ease, happiness, and
comparative leisure; and feel no anxiety about providing the means of
subsistence for themselves and families.

Consequently, if the premises are just, the argument is conclusive
against the perfectibility of the mass of mankind.

I have thus sketched the general outline of the argument, but I will
examine it more particularly, and I think it will be found that
experience, the true source and foundation of all knowledge, invariably
confirms its truth.




CHAPTER 2

The different ratio in which population and food increase--The
necessary effects of these different ratios of increase--Oscillation
produced by them in the condition of the lower classes of
society--Reasons why this oscillation has not been so much observed as
might be expected--Three propositions on which the general argument of
the Essay depends--The different states in which mankind have been
known to exist proposed to be examined with reference to these three
propositions.


I said that population, when unchecked, increased in a geometrical
ratio, and subsistence for man in an arithmetical ratio.

Let us examine whether this position be just. I think it will be
allowed, that no state has hitherto existed (at least that we have any
account of) where the manners were so pure and simple, and the means of
subsistence so abundant, that no check whatever has existed to early
marriages, among the lower classes, from a fear of not providing well
for their families, or among the higher classes, from a fear of
lowering their condition in life. Consequently in no state that we have
yet known has the power of population been left to exert itself with
perfect freedom.

Whether the law of marriage be instituted or not, the dictate of nature
and virtue seems to be an early attachment to one woman. Supposing a
liberty of changing in the case of an unfortunate choice, this liberty
would not affect population till it arose to a height greatly vicious;
and we are now supposing the existence of a society where vice is
scarcely known.

In a state therefore of great equality and virtue, where pure and
simple manners prevailed, and where the means of subsistence were so
abundant that no part of the society could have any fears about
providing amply for a family, the power of population being left to
exert itself unchecked, the increase of the human species would
evidently be much greater than any increase that has been hitherto
known.

In the United States of America, where the means of subsistence have
been more ample, the manners of the people more pure, and consequently
the checks to early marriages fewer, than in any of the modern states
of Europe, the population has been found to double itself in
twenty-five years.

This ratio of increase, though short of the utmost power of population,
yet as the result of actual experience, we will take as our rule, and
say, that population, when unchecked, goes on doubling itself every
twenty-five years or increases in a geometrical ratio.

Let us now take any spot of earth, this Island for instance, and see in
what ratio the subsistence it affords can be supposed to increase. We
will begin with it under its present state of cultivation.

If I allow that by the best possible policy, by breaking up more land
and by great encouragements to agriculture, the produce of this Island
may be doubled in the first twenty-five years, I think it will be
allowing as much as any person can well demand.

In the next twenty-five years, it is impossible to suppose that the
produce could be quadrupled. It would be contrary to all our knowledge
of the qualities of land. The very utmost that we can conceive, is,
that the increase in the second twenty-five years might equal the
present produce. Let us then take this for our rule, though certainly
far beyond the truth, and allow that, by great exertion, the whole
produce of the Island might be increased every twenty-five years, by a
quantity of subsistence equal to what it at present produces. The most
enthusiastic speculator cannot suppose a greater increase than this. In
a few centuries it would make every acre of land in the Island like a
garden.

Yet this ratio of increase is evidently arithmetical.

It may be fairly said, therefore, that the means of subsistence
increase in an arithmetical ratio. Let us now bring the effects of
these two ratios together.

The population of the Island is computed to be about seven millions,
and we will suppose the present produce equal to the support of such a
number. In the first twenty-five years the population would be fourteen
millions, and the food being also doubled, the means of subsistence
would be equal to this increase. In the next twenty-five years the
population would be twenty-eight millions, and the means of subsistence
only equal to the support of twenty-one millions. In the next period,
the population would be fifty-six millions, and the means of
subsistence just sufficient for half that number. And at the conclusion
of the first century the population would be one hundred and twelve
millions and the means of subsistence only equal to the support of
thirty-five millions, which would leave a population of seventy-seven
millions totally unprovided for.

A great emigration necessarily implies unhappiness of some kind or
other in the country that is deserted. For few persons will leave their
families, connections, friends, and native land, to seek a settlement
in untried foreign climes, without some strong subsisting causes of
uneasiness where they are, or the hope of some great advantages in the
place to which they are going.

But to make the argument more general and less interrupted by the
partial views of emigration, let us take the whole earth, instead of
one spot, and suppose that the restraints to population were
universally removed. If the subsistence for man that the earth affords
was to be increased every twenty-five years by a quantity equal to what
the whole world at present produces, this would allow the power of
production in the earth to be absolutely unlimited, and its ratio of
increase much greater than we can conceive that any possible exertions
of mankind could make it.

Taking the population of the world at any number, a thousand millions,
for instance, the human species would increase in the ratio of--1, 2,
4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, etc. and subsistence as--1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, etc. In two centuries and a quarter, the population
would be to the means of subsistence as 512 to 10: in three centuries
as 4096 to 13, and in two thousand years the difference would be almost
incalculable, though the produce in that time would have increased to
an immense extent.

No limits whatever are placed to the productions of the earth; they may
increase for ever and be greater than any assignable quantity, yet
still the power of population being a power of a superior order, the
increase of the human species can only be kept commensurate to the
increase of the means of subsistence by the constant operation of the
strong law of necessity acting as a check upon the greater power.

The effects of this check remain now to be considered.

Among plants and animals the view of the subject is simple. They are
all impelled by a powerful instinct to the increase of their species,
and this instinct is interrupted by no reasoning or doubts about
providing for their offspring. Wherever therefore there is liberty, the
power of increase is exerted, and the superabundant effects are
repressed afterwards by want of room and nourishment, which is common
to animals and plants, and among animals by becoming the prey of others.

The effects of this check on man are more complicated. Impelled to the
increase of his species by an equally powerful instinct, reason
interrupts his career and asks him whether he may not bring beings into
the world for whom he cannot provide the means of subsistence. In a
state of equality, this would be the simple question. In the present
state of society, other considerations occur. Will he not lower his
rank in life? Will he not subject himself to greater difficulties than
he at present feels? Will he not be obliged to labour harder? and if he
has a large family, will his utmost exertions enable him to support
them? May he not see his offspring in rags and misery, and clamouring
for bread that he cannot give them? And may he not be reduced to the
grating necessity of forfeiting his independence, and of being obliged
to the sparing hand of charity for support?

These considerations are calculated to prevent, and certainly do
prevent, a very great number in all civilized nations from pursuing the
dictate of nature in an early attachment to one woman. And this
restraint almost necessarily, though not absolutely so, produces vice.
Yet in all societies, even those that are most vicious, the tendency to
a virtuous attachment is so strong that there is a constant effort
towards an increase of population. This constant effort as constantly
tends to subject the lower classes of the society to distress and to
prevent any great permanent amelioration of their condition.

The way in which, these effects are produced seems to be this. We will
suppose the means of subsistence in any country just equal to the easy
support of its inhabitants. The constant effort towards population,
which is found to act even in the most vicious societies, increases the
number of people before the means of subsistence are increased. The
food therefore which before supported seven millions must now be
divided among seven millions and a half or eight millions. The poor
consequently must live much worse, and many of them be reduced to
severe distress. The number of labourers also being above the
proportion of the work in the market, the price of labour must tend
toward a decrease, while the price of provisions would at the same time
tend to rise. The labourer therefore must work harder to earn the same
as he did before. During this season of distress, the discouragements
to marriage, and the difficulty of rearing a family are so great that
population is at a stand. In the mean time the cheapness of labour, the
plenty of labourers, and the necessity of an increased industry amongst
them, encourage cultivators to employ more labour upon their land, to
turn up fresh soil, and to manure and improve more completely what is
already in tillage, till ultimately the means of subsistence become in
the same proportion to the population as at the period from which we
set out. The situation of the labourer being then again tolerably
comfortable, the restraints to population are in some degree loosened,
and the same retrograde and progressive movements with respect to
happiness are repeated.

This sort of oscillation will not be remarked by superficial observers,
and it may be difficult even for the most penetrating mind to calculate
its periods. Yet that in all old states some such vibration does exist,
though from various transverse causes, in a much less marked, and in a
much more irregular manner than I have described it, no reflecting man
who considers the subject deeply can well doubt.

Many reasons occur why this oscillation has been less obvious, and less
decidedly confirmed by experience, than might naturally be expected.

One principal reason is that the histories of mankind that we possess
are histories only of the higher classes. We have but few accounts that
can be depended upon of the manners and customs of that part of mankind
where these retrograde and progressive movements chiefly take place. A
satisfactory history of this kind, on one people, and of one period,
would require the constant and minute attention of an observing mind
during a long life. Some of the objects of inquiry would be, in what
proportion to the number of adults was the number of marriages, to what
extent vicious customs prevailed in consequence of the restraints upon
matrimony, what was the comparative mortality among the children of the
most distressed part of the community and those who lived rather more
at their ease, what were the variations in the real price of labour,
and what were the observable differences in the state of the lower
classes of society with respect to ease and happiness, at different
times during a certain period.

Such a history would tend greatly to elucidate the manner in which the
constant check upon population acts and would probably prove the
existence of the retrograde and progressive movements that have been
mentioned, though the times of their vibrations must necessarily be
rendered irregular from the operation of many interrupting causes, such
as the introduction or failure of certain manufactures, a greater or
less prevalent spirit of agricultural enterprise, years of plenty, or
years of scarcity, wars and pestilence, poor laws, the invention of
processes for shortening labour without the proportional extension of
the market for the commodity, and, particularly, the difference between
the nominal and real price of labour, a circumstance which has perhaps
more than any other contributed to conceal this oscillation from common
view.

It very rarely happens that the nominal price of labour universally
falls, but we well know that it frequently remains the same, while the
nominal price of provisions has been gradually increasing. This is, in
effect, a real fall in the price of labour, and during this period the
condition of the lower orders of the community must gradually grow
worse and worse. But the farmers and capitalists are growing rich from
the real cheapness of labour. Their increased capitals enable them to
employ a greater number of men. Work therefore may be plentiful, and
the price of labour would consequently rise. But the want of freedom in
the market of labour, which occurs more or less in all communities,
either from parish laws, or the more general cause of the facility of
combination among the rich, and its difficulty among the poor, operates
to prevent the price of labour from rising at the natural period, and
keeps it down some time longer; perhaps till a year of scarcity, when
the clamour is too loud and the necessity too apparent to be resisted.

The true cause of the advance in the price of labour is thus concealed,
and the rich affect to grant it as an act of compassion and favour to
the poor, in consideration of a year of scarcity, and, when plenty
returns, indulge themselves in the most unreasonable of all complaints,
that the price does not again fall, when a little rejection would shew
them that it must have risen long before but from an unjust conspiracy
of their own.

But though the rich by unfair combinations contribute frequently to
prolong a season of distress among the poor, yet no possible form of
society could prevent the almost constant action of misery upon a great
part of mankind, if in a state of inequality, and upon all, if all were
equal.

The theory on which the truth of this position depends appears to me so
extremely clear that I feel at a loss to conjecture what part of it can
be denied.

That population cannot increase without the means of subsistence is a
proposition so evident that it needs no illustration.

That population does invariably increase where there are the means of
subsistence, the history of every people that have ever existed will
abundantly prove.

And that the superior power of population cannot be checked without
producing misery or vice, the ample portion of these too bitter
ingredients in the cup of human life and the continuance of the
physical causes that seem to have produced them bear too convincing a
testimony.

But, in order more fully to ascertain the validity of these three
propositions, let us examine the different states in which mankind have
been known to exist. Even a cursory review will, I think, be sufficient
to convince us that these propositions are incontrovertible truths.




CHAPTER 3

The savage or hunter state shortly reviewed--The shepherd state, or the
tribes of barbarians that overran the Roman Empire--The superiority of
the power of population to the means of subsistence--the cause of the
great tide of Northern Emigration.


In the rudest state of mankind, in which hunting is the principal
occupation, and the only mode of acquiring food; the means of
subsistence being scattered over a large extent of territory, the
comparative population must necessarily be thin. It is said that the
passion between the sexes is less ardent among the North American
Indians, than among any other race of men. Yet, notwithstanding this
apathy, the effort towards population, even in this people, seems to be
always greater than the means to support it. This appears, from the
comparatively rapid population that takes place, whenever any of the
tribes happen to settle in some fertile spot, and to draw nourishment
from more fruitful sources than that of hunting; and it has been
frequently remarked that when an Indian family has taken up its abode
near any European settlement, and adopted a more easy and civilized
mode of life, that one woman has reared five, or six, or more children;
though in the savage state it rarely happens that above one or two in a
family grow up to maturity. The same observation has been made with
regard to the Hottentots near the Cape. These facts prove the superior
power of population to the means of subsistence in nations of hunters,
and that this power always shews itself the moment it is left to act
with freedom.

It remains to inquire whether this power can be checked, and its
effects kept equal to the means of subsistence, without vice or misery.

The North American Indians, considered as a people, cannot justly be
called free and equal. In all the accounts we have of them, and,
indeed, of most other savage nations, the women are represented as much
more completely in a state of slavery to the men than the poor are to
the rich in civilized countries. One half the nation appears to act as
Helots to the other half, and the misery that checks population falls
chiefly, as it always must do, upon that part whose condition is lowest
in the scale of society. The infancy of man in the simplest state
requires considerable attention, but this necessary attention the women
cannot give, condemned as they are to the inconveniences and hardships
of frequent change of place and to the constant and unremitting
drudgery of preparing every thing for the reception of their tyrannic
lords. These exertions, sometimes during pregnancy or with children at
their backs, must occasion frequent miscarriages, and prevent any but
the most robust infants from growing to maturity. Add to these
hardships of the women the constant war that prevails among savages,
and the necessity which they frequently labour under of exposing their
aged and helpless parents, and of thus violating the first feelings of
nature, and the picture will not appear very free from the blot of
misery. In estimating the happiness of a savage nation, we must not fix
our eyes only on the warrior in the prime of life: he is one of a
hundred: he is the gentleman, the man of fortune, the chances have been
in his favour and many efforts have failed ere this fortunate being was
produced, whose guardian genius should preserve him through the
numberless dangers with which he would be surrounded from infancy to
manhood. The true points of comparison between two nations seem to be
the ranks in each which appear nearest to answer to each other. And in
this view, I should compare the warriors in the prime of life with the
gentlemen, and the women, children, and aged, with the lower classes of
the community in civilized states.

May we not then fairly infer from this short review, or rather, from
the accounts that may be referred to of nations of hunters, that their
population is thin from the scarcity of food, that it would immediately
increase if food was in greater plenty, and that, putting vice out of
the question among savages, misery is the check that represses the
superior power of population and keeps its effects equal to the means
of subsistence. Actual observation and experience tell us that this
check, with a few local and temporary exceptions, is constantly acting
now upon all savage nations, and the theory indicates that it probably
acted with nearly equal strength a thousand years ago, and it may not
be much greater a thousand years hence.

Of the manners and habits that prevail among nations of shepherds, the
next state of mankind, we are even more ignorant than of the savage
state. But that these nations could not escape the general lot of
misery arising from the want of subsistence, Europe, and all the
fairest countries in the world, bear ample testimony. Want was the goad
that drove the Scythian shepherds from their native haunts, like so
many famished wolves in search of prey.
Set in motion by this all
powerful cause, clouds of Barbarians seemed to collect from all points
of the northern hemisphere. Gathering fresh darkness and terror as they
rolled on, the congregated bodies at length obscured the sun of Italy
and sunk the whole world in universal night. These tremendous effects,
so long and so deeply felt throughout the fairest portions of the
earth, may be traced to the simple cause of the superior power of
population to the means of subsistence.

It is well known that a country in pasture cannot support so many
inhabitants as a country in tillage, but what renders nations of
shepherds so formidable is the power which they possess of moving all
together and the necessity they frequently feel of exerting this power
in search of fresh pasture for their herds. A tribe that was rich in
cattle had an immediate plenty of food. Even the parent stock might be
devoured in a case of absolute necessity. The women lived in greater
ease than among nations of hunters. The men bold in their united
strength and confiding in their power of procuring pasture for their
cattle by change of place, felt, probably, but few fears about
providing for a family. These combined causes soon produced their
natural and invariable effect, an extended population. A more frequent
and rapid change of place became then necessary. A wider and more
extensive territory was successively occupied. A broader desolation
extended all around them. Want pinched the less fortunate members of
the society, and, at length, the impossibility of supporting such a
number together became too evident to be resisted. Young scions were
then pushed out from the parent-stock and instructed to explore fresh
regions and to gain happier seats for themselves by their swords. 'The
world was all before them where to choose. ' Restless from present
distress, flushed with the hope of fairer prospects, and animated with
the spirit of hardy enterprise, these daring adventurers were likely to
become formidable adversaries to all who opposed them. The peaceful
inhabitants of the countries on which they rushed could not long
withstand the energy of men acting under such powerful motives of
exertion. And when they fell in with any tribes like their own, the
contest was a struggle for existence, and they fought with a desperate
courage, inspired by the rejection that death was the punishment of
defeat and life the prize of victory.

In these savage contests many tribes must have been utterly
exterminated. Some, probably, perished by hardship and famine. Others,
whose leading star had given them a happier direction, became great and
powerful tribes, and, in their turns, sent off fresh adventurers in
search of still more fertile seats. The prodigious waste of human life
occasioned by this perpetual struggle for room and food was more than
supplied by the mighty power of population, acting, in some degree,
unshackled from the consent habit of emigration. The tribes that
migrated towards the South, though they won these more fruitful regions
by continual battles, rapidly increased in number and power, from the
increased means of subsistence. Till at length the whole territory,
from the confines of China to the shores of the Baltic, was peopled by
a various race of Barbarians, brave, robust, and enterprising, inured
to hardship, and delighting in war. Some tribes maintained their
independence. Others ranged themselves under the standard of some
barbaric chieftain who led them to victory after victory, and what was
of more importance, to regions abounding in corn, wine, and oil, the
long wished for consummation, and great reward of their labours. An
Alaric, an Attila, or a Zingis Khan, and the chiefs around them, might
fight for glory, for the fame of extensive conquests, but the true
cause that set in motion the great tide of northern emigration, and
that continued to propel it till it rolled at different periods against
China, Persia, Italy, and even Egypt, was a scarcity of food, a
population extended beyond the means of supporting it.

The absolute population at any one period, in proportion to the extent
of territory, could never be great, on account of the unproductive
nature of some of the regions occupied; but there appears to have been
a most rapid succession of human beings, and as fast as some were mowed
down by the scythe of war or of famine, others rose in increased
numbers to supply their place. Among these bold and improvident
Barbarians, population was probably but little checked, as in modern
states, from a fear of future difficulties. A prevailing hope of
bettering their condition by change of place, a constant expectation of
plunder, a power even, if distressed, of selling their children as
slaves, added to the natural carelessness of the barbaric character,
all conspired to raise a population which remained to be repressed
afterwards by famine or war.

Where there is any inequality of conditions, and among nations of
shepherds this soon takes place, the distress arising from a scarcity
of provisions must fall hardest upon the least fortunate members of the
society. This distress also must frequently have been felt by the
women, exposed to casual plunder in the absence of their husbands, and
subject to continual disappointments in their expected return.

But without knowing enough of the minute and intimate history of these
people, to point out precisely on what part the distress for want of
food chiefly fell, and to what extent it was generally felt, I think we
may fairly say, from all the accounts that we have of nations of
shepherds, that population invariably increased among them whenever, by
emigration or any other cause, the means of subsistence were increased,
and that a further population was checked, and the actual population
kept equal to the means of subsistence, by misery and vice.

For, independently of any vicious customs that might have prevailed
amongst them with regard to women, which always operate as checks to
population, it must be acknowledged, I think, that the commission of
war is vice, and the effect of it misery, and none can doubt the misery
of want of food.




CHAPTER 4

State of civilized nations--Probability that Europe is much more
populous now than in the time of Julius Caesar--Best criterion of
population--Probable error of Hume in one the criterions that he
proposes as assisting in an estimate of population--Slow increase of
population at present in most of the states of Europe--The two
principal checks to population--The first, or preventive check examined
with regard to England.


In examining the next state of mankind with relation to the question
before us, the state of mixed pasture and tillage, in which with some
variation in the proportions the most civilized nations must always
remain, we shall be assisted in our review by what we daily see around
us, by actual experience, by facts that come within the scope of every
man's observation.

Notwithstanding the exaggerations of some old historians, there can
remain no doubt in the mind of any thinking man that the population of
the principal countries of Europe, France, England, Germany, Russia,
Poland, Sweden, and Denmark is much greater than ever it was in former
times. The obvious reason of these exaggerations is the formidable
aspect that even a thinly peopled nation must have, when collected
together and moving all at once in search of fresh seats. If to this
tremendous appearance be added a succession at certain intervals of
similar emigrations, we shall not be much surprised that the fears of
the timid nations of the South represented the North as a region
absolutely swarming with human beings. A nearer and juster view of the
subject at present enables us to see that the inference was as absurd
as if a man in this country, who was continually meeting on the road
droves of cattle from Wales and the North, was immediately to conclude
that these countries were the most productive of all the parts of the
kingdom.

The reason that the greater part of Europe is more populous now than it
was in former times, is that the industry of the inhabitants has made
these countries produce a greater quantity of human subsistence. For I
conceive that it may be laid down as a position not to be controverted,
that, taking a sufficient extent of territory to include within it
exportation and importation, and allowing some variation for the
prevalence of luxury, or of frugal habits, that population constantly
bears a regular proportion to the food that the earth is made to
produce. In the controversy concerning the populousness of ancient and
modern nations, could it be clearly ascertained that the average
produce of the countries in question, taken altogether, is greater now
than it was in the times of Julius Caesar, the dispute would be at once
determined.

When we are assured that China is the most fertile country in the
world, that almost all the land is in tillage, and that a great part of
it bears two crops every year, and further, that the people live very
frugally, we may infer with certainty that the population must be
immense, without busying ourselves in inquiries into the manners and
habits of the lower classes and the encouragements to early marriages.
But these inquiries are of the utmost importance, and a minute history
of the customs of the lower Chinese would be of the greatest use in
ascertaining in what manner the checks to a further population operate;
what are the vices, and what are the distresses that prevent an
increase of numbers beyond the ability of the country to support.

Hume, in his essay on the populousness of ancient and modern nations,
when he intermingles, as he says, an inquiry concerning causes with
that concerning facts, does not seem to see with his usual penetration
how very little some of the causes he alludes to could enable him to
form any judgement of the actual population of ancient nations. If any
inference can be drawn from them, perhaps it should be directly the
reverse of what Hume draws, though I certainly ought to speak with
great diffidence in dissenting from a man who of all others on such
subjects was the least likely to be deceived by first appearances. If I
find that at a certain period in ancient history, the encouragements to
have a family were great, that early marriages were consequently very
prevalent, and that few persons remained single, I should infer with
certainty that population was rapidly increasing, but by no means that
it was then actually very great, rather; indeed, the contrary, that it
was then thin and that there was room and food for a much greater
number. On the other hand, if I find that at this period the
difficulties attending a family were very great, that, consequently,
few early marriages took place, and that a great number of both sexes
remained single, I infer with certainty that population was at a stand,
and, probably, because the actual population was very great in
proportion to the fertility of the land and that there was scarcely
room and food for more. The number of footmen, housemaids, and other
persons remaining unmarried in modern states, Hume allows to be rather
an argument against their population. I should rather draw a contrary
inference and consider it an argument of their fullness, though this
inference is not certain, because there are many thinly inhabited
states that are yet stationary in their population. To speak,
therefore, correctly, perhaps it may be said that the number of
unmarried persons in proportion to the whole number, existing at
different periods, in the same or different states will enable us to
judge whether population at these periods was increasing, stationary,
or decreasing, but will form no criterion by which we can determine the
actual population.

There is, however, a circumstance taken notice of in most of the
accounts we have of China that it seems difficult to reconcile with
this reasoning. It is said that early marriages very generally prevail
through all the ranks of the Chinese. Yet Dr Adam Smith supposes that
population in China is stationary. These two circumstances appear to be
irreconcilable. It certainly seems very little probable that the
population of China is fast increasing. Every acre of land has been so
long in cultivation that we can hardly conceive there is any great
yearly addition to the average produce. The fact, perhaps, of the
universality of early marriages may not be sufficiently ascertained. If
it be supposed true, the only way of accounting for the difficulty,
with our present knowledge of the subject, appears to be that the
redundant population, necessarily occasioned by the prevalence of early
marriages, must be repressed by occasional famines, and by the custom
of exposing children, which, in times of distress, is probably more
frequent than is ever acknowledged to Europeans. Relative to this
barbarous practice, it is difficult to avoid remarking, that there
cannot be a stronger proof of the distresses that have been felt by
mankind for want of food, than the existence of a custom that thus
violates the most natural principle of the human heart. It appears to
have been very general among ancient nations, and certainly tended
rather to increase population.

In examining the principal states of modern Europe, we shall find that
though they have increased very considerably in population since they
were nations of shepherds, yet that at present their progress is but
slow, and instead of doubling their numbers every twenty-five years
they require three or four hundred years, or more, for that purpose.
Some, indeed, may be absolutely stationary, and others even retrograde.
The cause of this slow progress in population cannot be traced to a
decay of the passion between the sexes. We have sufficient reason to
think that this natural propensity exists still in undiminished vigour.
Why then do not its effects appear in a rapid increase of the human
species? An intimate view of the state of society in any one country in
Europe, which may serve equally for all, will enable us to answer this
question, and to say that a foresight of the difficulties attending the
rearing of a family acts as a preventive check, and the actual
distresses of some of the lower classes, by which they are disabled
from giving the proper food and attention to their children, act as a
positive check to the natural increase of population.

England, as one of the most flourishing states of Europe, may be fairly
taken for an example, and the observations made will apply with but
little variation to any other country where the population increases
slowly.

The preventive check appears to operate in some degree through all the
ranks of society in England. There are some men, even in the highest
rank, who are prevented from marrying by the idea of the expenses that
they must retrench, and the fancied pleasures that they must deprive
themselves of, on the supposition of having a family. These
considerations are certainly trivial, but a preventive foresight of
this kind has objects of much greater weight for its contemplation as
we go lower.

A man of liberal education, but with an income only just sufficient to
enable him to associate in the rank of gentlemen, must feel absolutely
certain that if he marries and has a family he shall be obliged, if he
mixes at all in society, to rank himself with moderate farmers and the
lower class of tradesmen. The woman that a man of education would
naturally make the object of his choice would be one brought up in the
same tastes and sentiments with himself and used to the familiar
intercourse of a society totally different from that to which she must
be reduced by marriage. Can a man consent to place the object of his
affection in a situation so discordant, probably, to her tastes and
inclinations? Two or three steps of descent in society, particularly at
this round of the ladder, where education ends and ignorance begins,
will not be considered by the generality of people as a fancied and
chimerical, but a real and essential evil. If society be held
desirable, it surely must be free, equal, and reciprocal society, where
benefits are conferred as well as received, and not such as the
dependent finds with his patron or the poor with the rich.

These considerations undoubtedly prevent a great number in this rank of
life from following the bent of their inclinations in an early
attachment. Others, guided either by a stronger passion, or a weaker
judgement, break through these restraints, and it would be hard indeed,
if the gratification of so delightful a passion as virtuous love, did
not, sometimes, more than counterbalance all its attendant evils. But I
fear it must be owned that the more general consequences of such
marriages are rather calculated to justify than to repress the
forebodings of the prudent.

The sons of tradesmen and farmers are exhorted not to marry, and
generally find it necessary to pursue this advice till they are settled
in some business or farm that may enable them to support a family.
These events may not, perhaps, occur till they are far advanced in
life. The scarcity of farms is a very general complaint in England. And
the competition in every kind of business is so great that it is not
possible that all should be successful.

The labourer who earns eighteen pence a day and lives with some degree
of comfort as a single man, will hesitate a little before he divides
that pittance among four or five, which seems to be but just sufficient
for one. Harder fare and harder labour he would submit to for the sake
of living with the woman that he loves, but he must feel conscious, if
he thinks at all, that should he have a large family, and any ill luck
whatever, no degree of frugality, no possible exertion of his manual
strength could preserve him from the heart-rending sensation of seeing
his children starve, or of forfeiting his independence, and being
obliged to the parish for their support. The love of independence is a
sentiment that surely none would wish to be erased from the breast of
man, though the parish law of England, it must be confessed, is a
system of all others the most calculated gradually to weaken this
sentiment, and in the end may eradicate it completely.

The servants who live in gentlemen's families have restraints that are
yet stronger to break through in venturing upon marriage. They possess
the necessaries, and even the comforts of life, almost in as great
plenty as their masters. Their work is easy and their food luxurious
compared with the class of labourers. And their sense of dependence is
weakened by the conscious power of changing their masters, if they feel
themselves offended. Thus comfortably situated at present, what are
their prospects in marrying? Without knowledge or capital, either for
business, or farming, and unused and therefore unable, to earn a
subsistence by daily labour, their only refuge seems to be a miserable
ale-house, which certainly offers no very enchanting prospect of a
happy evening to their lives. By much the greater part, therefore,
deterred by this uninviting view of their future situation, content
themselves with remaining single where they are.

If this sketch of the state of society in England be near the truth,
and I do not conceive that it is exaggerated, it will be allowed that
the preventive check to population in this country operates, though
with varied force, through all the classes of the community. The same
observation will hold true with regard to all old states. The effects,
indeed, of these restraints upon marriage are but too conspicuous in
the consequent vices that are produced in almost every part of the
world, vices that are continually involving both sexes in inextricable
unhappiness.




CHAPTER 5

The second, or positive check to population examined, in England--The
true cause why the immense sum collected in England for the poor does
not better their condition--The powerful tendency of the poor laws to
defeat their own purpose--Palliative of the distresses of the poor
proposed--The absolute impossibility, from the fixed laws of our
nature, that the pressure of want can ever be completely removed from
the lower classes of society--All the checks to population may be
resolved into misery or vice.


The positive check to population, by which I mean the check that
represses an increase which is already begun, is confined chiefly,
though not perhaps solely, to the lowest orders of society.

This check is not so obvious to common view as the other I have
mentioned, and, to prove distinctly the force and extent of its
operation would require, perhaps, more data than we are in possession
of. But I believe it has been very generally remarked by those who have
attended to bills of mortality that of the number of children who die
annually, much too great a proportion belongs to those who may be
supposed unable to give their offspring proper food and attention,
exposed as they are occasionally to severe distress and confined,
perhaps, to unwholesome habitations and hard labour. This mortality
among the children of the poor has been constantly taken notice of in
all towns. It certainly does not prevail in an equal degree in the
country, but the subject has not hitherto received sufficient attention
to enable anyone to say that there are not more deaths in proportion
among the children of the poor, even in the country, than among those
of the middling and higher classes. Indeed, it seems difficult to
suppose that a labourer's wife who has six children, and who is
sometimes in absolute want of bread, should be able always to give them
the food and attention necessary to support life. The sons and
daughters of peasants will not be found such rosy cherubs in real life
as they are described to be in romances. It cannot fail to be remarked
by those who live much in the country that the sons of labourers are
very apt to be stunted in their growth, and are a long while arriving
at maturity. Boys that you would guess to be fourteen or fifteen are,
upon inquiry, frequently found to be eighteen or nineteen. And the lads
who drive plough, which must certainly be a healthy exercise, are very
rarely seen with any appearance of calves to their legs: a circumstance
which can only be attributed to a want either of proper or of
sufficient nourishment.

To remedy the frequent distresses of the common people, the poor laws
of England have been instituted; but it is to be feared, that though
they may have alleviated a little the intensity of individual
misfortune, they have spread the general evil over a much larger
surface. It is a subject often started in conversation and mentioned
always as a matter of great surprise that, notwithstanding the immense
sum that is annually collected for the poor in England, there is still
so much distress among them. Some think that the money must be
embezzled, others that the church-wardens and overseers consume the
greater part of it in dinners. All agree that somehow or other it must
be very ill-managed. In short the fact that nearly three millions are
collected annually for the poor and yet that their distresses are not
removed is the subject of continual astonishment. But a man who sees a
little below the surface of things would be very much more astonished
if the fact were otherwise than it is observed to be, or even if a
collection universally of eighteen shillings in the pound, instead of
four, were materially to alter it. I will state a case which I hope
will elucidate my meaning.

Suppose that by a subscription of the rich the eighteen pence a day
which men earn now was made up five shillings, it might be imagined,
perhaps, that they would then be able to live comfortably and have a
piece of meat every day for their dinners. But this would be a very
false conclusion. The transfer of three shillings and sixpence a day to
every labourer would not increase the quantity of meat in the country.
There is not at present enough for all to have a decent share. What
would then be the consequence? The competition among the buyers in the
market of meat would rapidly raise the price from sixpence or
sevenpence, to two or three shillings in the pound, and the commodity
would not be divided among many more than it is at present. When an
article is scarce, and cannot be distributed to all, he that can shew
the most valid patent, that is, he that offers most money, becomes the
possessor. If we can suppose the competition among the buyers of meat
to continue long enough for a greater number of cattle to be reared
annually, this could only be done at the expense of the corn, which
would be a very disadvantagous exchange, for it is well known that the
country could not then support the same population, and when
subsistence is scarce in proportion to the number of people, it is of
little consequence whether the lowest members of the society possess
eighteen pence or five shillings. They must at all events be reduced to
live upon the hardest fare and in the smallest quantity.

It will be said, perhaps, that the increased number of purchasers in
every article would give a spur to productive industry and that the
whole produce of the island would be increased. This might in some
degree be the case. But the spur that these fancied riches would give
to population would more than counterbalance it, and the increased
produce would be to be divided among a more than proportionably
increased number of people. All this time I am supposing that the same
quantity of work would be done as before. But this would not really
take place. The receipt of five shillings a day, instead of eighteen
pence, would make every man fancy himself comparatively rich and able
to indulge himself in many hours or days of leisure. This would give a
strong and immediate check to productive industry, and, in a short
time, not only the nation would be poorer, but the lower classes
themselves would be much more distressed than when they received only
eighteen pence a day.

A collection from the rich of eighteen shillings in the pound, even if
distributed in the most judicious manner, would have a little the same
effect as that resulting from the supposition I have just made, and no
possible contributions or sacrifices of the rich, particularly in
money, could for any time prevent the recurrence of distress among the
lower members of society, whoever they were. Great changes might,
indeed, be made. The rich might become poor, and some of the poor rich,
but a part of the society must necessarily feel a difficulty of living,
and this difficulty will naturally fall on the least fortunate members.

It may at first appear strange, but I believe it is true, that I cannot
by means of money raise a poor man and enable him to live much better
than he did before, without proportionably depressing others in the
same class. If I retrench the quantity of food consumed in my house,
and give him what I have cut off, I then benefit him, without
depressing any but myself and family, who, perhaps, may be well able to
bear it. If I turn up a piece of uncultivated land, and give him the
produce, I then benefit both him and all the members of the society,
because what he before consumed is thrown into the common stock, and
probably some of the new produce with it. But if I only give him money,
supposing the produce of the country to remain the same, I give him a
title to a larger share of that produce than formerly, which share he
cannot receive without diminishing the shares of others. It is evident
that this effect, in individual instances, must be so small as to be
totally imperceptible; but still it must exist, as many other effects
do, which, like some of the insects that people the air, elude our
grosser perceptions.

Supposing the quantity of food in any country to remain the same for
many years together, it is evident that this food must be divided
according to the value of each man's patent, or the sum of money that
he can afford to spend on this commodity so universally in request. (Mr
Godwin calls the wealth that a man receives from his ancestors a mouldy
patent. It may, I think, very properly be termed a patent, but I hardly
see the propriety of calling it a mouldy one, as it is an article in
such constant use. ) It is a demonstrative truth, therefore, that the
patents of one set of men could not be increased in value without
diminishing the value of the patents of some other set of men. If the
rich were to subscribe and give five shillings a day to five hundred
thousand men without retrenching their own tables, no doubt can exist,
that as these men would naturally live more at their ease and consume a
greater quantity of provisions, there would be less food remaining to
divide among the rest, and consequently each man's patent would be
diminished in value or the same number of pieces of silver would
purchase a smaller quantity of subsistence.

An increase of population without a proportional increase of food will
evidently have the same effect in lowering the value of each man's
patent. The food must necessarily be distributed in smaller quantities,
and consequently a day's labour will purchase a smaller quantity of
provisions. An increase in the price of provisions would arise either
from an increase of population faster than the means of subsistence, or
from a different distribution of the money of the society. The food of
a country that has been long occupied, if it be increasing, increases
slowly and regularly and cannot be made to answer any sudden demands,
but variations in the distribution of the money of a society are not
infrequently occurring, and are undoubtedly among the causes that
occasion the continual variations which we observe in the price of
provisions.

The poor laws of England tend to depress the general condition of the
poor in these two ways. Their first obvious tendency is to increase
population without increasing the food for its support. A poor man may
marry with little or no prospect of being able to support a family in
independence. They may be said therefore in some measure to create the
poor which they maintain, and as the provisions of the country must, in
consequence of the increased population, be distributed to every man in
smaller proportions, it is evident that the labour of those who are not
supported by parish assistance will purchase a smaller quantity of
provisions than before and consequently more of them must be driven to
ask for support.

Secondly, the quantity of provisions consumed in workhouses upon a part
of the society that cannot in general be considered as the most
valuable part diminishes the shares that would otherwise belong to more
industrious and more worthy members, and thus in the same manner forces
more to become dependent. If the poor in the workhouses were to live
better than they now do, this new distribution of the money of the
society would tend more conspicuously to depress the condition of those
out of the workhouses by occasioning a rise in the price of provisions.

Fortunately for England, a spirit of independence still remains among
the peasantry. The poor laws are strongly calculated to eradicate this
spirit. They have succeeded in part, but had they succeeded as
completely as might have been expected their pernicious tendency would
not have been so long concealed.

Hard as it may appear in individual instances, dependent poverty ought
to be held disgraceful. Such a stimulus seems to be absolutely
necessary to promote the happiness of the great mass of mankind, and
every general attempt to weaken this stimulus, however benevolent its
apparent intention, will always defeat its own purpose. If men are
induced to marry from a prospect of parish provision, with little or no
chance of maintaining their families in independence, they are not only
unjustly tempted to bring unhappiness and dependence upon themselves
and children, but they are tempted, without knowing it, to injure all
in the same class with themselves. A labourer who marries without being
able to support a family may in some respects be considered as an enemy
to all his fellow-labourers.

I feel no doubt whatever that the parish laws of England have
contributed to raise the price of provisions and to lower the real
price of labour. They have therefore contributed to impoverish that
class of people whose only possession is their labour. It is also
difficult to suppose that they have not powerfully contributed to
generate that carelessness and want of frugality observable among the
poor, so contrary to the disposition frequently to be remarked among
petty tradesmen and small farmers. The labouring poor, to use a vulgar
expression, seem always to live from hand to mouth. Their present wants
employ their whole attention, and they seldom think of the future. Even
when they have an opportunity of saving they seldom exercise it, but
all that is beyond their present necessities goes, generally speaking,
to the ale-house. The poor laws of England may therefore be said to
diminish both the power and the will to save among the common people,
and thus to weaken one of the strongest incentives to sobriety and
industry, and consequently to happiness.

It is a general complaint among master manufacturers that high wages
ruin all their workmen, but it is difficult to conceive that these men
would not save a part of their high wages for the future support of
their families, instead of spending it in drunkenness and dissipation,
if they did not rely on parish assistance for support in case of
accidents. And that the poor employed in manufactures consider this
assistance as a reason why they may spend all the wages they earn and
enjoy themselves while they can appears to be evident from the number
of families that, upon the failure of any great manufactory,
immediately fall upon the parish, when perhaps the wages earned in this
manufactory while it flourished were sufficiently above the price of
common country labour to have allowed them to save enough for their
support till they could find some other channel for their industry.

A man who might not be deterred from going to the ale-house from the
consideration that on his death, or sickness, he should leave his wife
and family upon the parish might yet hesitate in thus dissipating his
earnings if he were assured that, in either of these cases, his family
must starve or be left to the support of casual bounty. In China, where
the real as well as nominal price of labour is very low, sons are yet
obliged by law to support their aged and helpless parents. Whether such
a law would be advisable in this country I will not pretend to
determine. But it seems at any rate highly improper, by positive
institutions, which render dependent poverty so general, to weaken that
disgrace, which for the best and most humane reasons ought to attach to
it.

The mass of happiness among the common people cannot but be diminished
when one of the strongest checks to idleness and dissipation is thus
removed, and when men are thus allured to marry with little or no
prospect of being able to maintain a family in independence. Every
obstacle in the way of marriage must undoubtedly be considered as a
species of unhappiness. But as from the laws of our nature some check
to population must exist, it is better that it should be checked from a
foresight of the difficulties attending a family and the fear of
dependent poverty than that it should be encouraged, only to be
repressed afterwards by want and sickness.

It should be remembered always that there is an essential difference
between food and those wrought commodities, the raw materials of which
are in great plenty. A demand for these last will not fail to create
them in as great a quantity as they are wanted. The demand for food has
by no means the same creative power. In a country where all the fertile
spots have been seized, high offers are necessary to encourage the
farmer to lay his dressing on land from which he cannot expect a
profitable return for some years. And before the prospect of advantage
is sufficiently great to encourage this sort of agricultural
enterprise, and while the new produce is rising, great distresses may
be suffered from the want of it. The demand for an increased quantity
of subsistence is, with few exceptions, constant everywhere, yet we see
how slowly it is answered in all those countries that have been long
occupied.

The poor laws of England were undoubtedly instituted for the most
benevolent purpose, but there is great reason to think that they have
not succeeded in their intention. They certainly mitigate some cases of
very severe distress which might otherwise occur, yet the state of the
poor who are supported by parishes, considered in all its
circumstances, is very far from being free from misery. But one of the
principal objections to them is that for this assistance which some of
the poor receive, in itself almost a doubtful blessing, the whole class
of the common people of England is subjected to a set of grating,
inconvenient, and tyrannical laws, totally inconsistent with the
genuine spirit of the constitution. The whole business of settlements,
even in its present amended state, is utterly contradictory to all
ideas of freedom. The parish persecution of men whose families are
likely to become chargeable, and of poor women who are near lying-in,
is a most disgraceful and disgusting tyranny. And the obstructions
continuity occasioned in the market of labour by these laws have a
constant tendency to add to the difficulties of those who are
struggling to support themselves without assistance.

These evils attendant on the poor laws are in some degree irremediable.
If assistance be to be distributed to a certain class of people, a
power must be given somewhere of discriminating the proper objects and
of managing the concerns of the institutions that are necessary, but
any great interference with the affairs of other people is a species of
tyranny, and in the common course of things the exercise of this power
may be expected to become grating to those who are driven to ask for
support. The tyranny of Justices, Church-wardens, and Overseers, is a
common complaint among the poor, but the fault does not lie so much in
these persons, who probably, before they were in power, were not worse
than other people, but in the nature of all such institutions.

The evil is perhaps gone too far to be remedied, but I feel little
doubt in my own mind that if the poor laws had never existed, though
there might have been a few more instances of very severe distress, yet
that the aggregate mass of happiness among the common people would have
been much greater than it is at present.

Mr Pitt's Poor Bill has the appearance of being framed with benevolent
intentions, and the clamour raised against it was in many respects ill
directed, and unreasonable. But it must be confessed that it possesses
in a high degree the great and radical defect of all systems of the
kind, that of tending to increase population without increasing the
means for its support, and thus to depress the condition of those that
are not supported by parishes, and, consequently, to create more poor.

To remove the wants of the lower classes of society is indeed an
arduous task. The truth is that the pressure of distress on this part
of a community is an evil so deeply seated that no human ingenuity can
reach it. Were I to propose a palliative, and palliatives are all that
the nature of the case will admit, it should be, in the first place,
the total abolition of all the present parish-laws. This would at any
rate give liberty and freedom of action to the peasantry of England,
which they can hardly be said to possess at present. They would then be
able to settle without interruption, wherever there was a prospect of a
greater plenty of work and a higher price for labour. The market of
labour would then be free, and those obstacles removed which, as things
are now, often for a considerable time prevent the price from rising
according to the demand.