I have been studying the poor laws of England. From 1601 to 1834 England was unique among European nations in that people in need could receive financial aid, paid for by taxes. Other countries relied almost entirely on charity.
But the cost of relief kept going up. As early as 1662, an act was passed limiting relief to the poor who were born or in the local parish or had lived there long enough to be “settled.” Those from elsewhere had to go home if they wanted relief—or even if the parish overseers suspected they might want relief in the future. The immobility of the poor made it hard to find jobs.
The poor (who became known as paupers) were increasingly viewed as idle and vicious. Over the years, prominent people from John Locke to Jeremy Bentham came up with fanciful schemes for correcting the bad behavior of the poor—educating them, working them, punishing them. Little change occurred, however.
David Brook is retired from the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources where he was director of the Division of Historical Resources. He has also written two books on the history of historic preservation in North Carolina.
Before modern vaccines and antibiotics, generations of Americans were routinely plagued by contagions including yellow fever, typhus, measles, and diphtheria. Cholera, however, topped them all in sheer terror. Caused by a bacterium not identified until 1884, cholera is a horrible intestinal disease, spread through contaminated food and water. With a short incubation period, cholera kills through severe dehydration. Untreated victims can die within hours of onset. In the 19th century, crowded immigrant communities were especially hard hit.
The coronavirus pandemic brings to mind the impact of cholera on the life of my great-great grandfather, Ludwig “Louis” Wellendorf (1831-1899). Louis was from Bresewitz, a small town on the Baltic Sea near Rostock, in the Grand Duchy of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Germany. According to family lore, he had participated in the failed Revolution of 1848, and fled to Denmark to hide for a time. Continue reading “Cholera, Stormy Seas, and Survival: A Family Story”
Thomas Robert Malthus has had a very long run. Issuing his first essay on population in 1798, he has persuaded millions of people that the world is threatened by overpopulation.
“The effect of Malthusianism was immediate and dramatic,” writes historian Gertrude Himmelfarb. “For half a century social attitudes and policies were decisively shaped by the new turn of thought.”[1] And the impact continues.
Until November I had never read Malthus’s essay.[2] To my surprise, it is a delightful essay—-clearly written, easy to read, a relatively short book. (Subsequent editions were more ponderous, I understand.)
Malthus is thoughtful and civil—deferential toward Adam Smith in spite of a disagreement and polite toward the two men whose arguments he demolished, William Godwin and Nicolas de Condorcet. The essay is full of plain-spoken metaphors (using examples such as watches and telescopes)[3] and full of common sense.
The strange thing is this: Not only was his claim about population vs. food production wrong, as we now know from 120 years of experience, his argument for it was just armchair theorizing. Continue reading “The Marketing Genius of T. R. Malthus”
