Prosperity of Britain, 1715-65.
The fifty years from 1715 to 1765 were, with two or three exceptions, marked by abundant harvests, low prices and heavy exports of corn. This was undoubtedly a great time in the expansion of England, a time of fortune-making for the monied class, and of cheapness of the necessaries of life.
The well-being and comfort of the middle class were undoubtedly great; also there was something peculiar to England in the prosperity of towns and villages throughout all classes. In the very worst year of the period, the year 1741, Horace Walpole landed at Dover on the 13th September, having completed the grand tour of Europe. Like many others, he was delighted with the pleasant county of Kent as he posted towards London; and on stopping for the night at Sittingbourne, he wrote as follows in a letter:
“The country town delights me: the populousness, the ease, the gaiety, and well-dressed everybody, amaze me. Canterbury, which on my setting out I thought deplorable, is a paradise to Modena, Reggio, Parma, etc. I had before discovered that there was nowhere but in England the distinction of middling people. I perceive now that there is peculiar to us middling houses; how snug they are[95]!”
Our history henceforth has little to record of malignant typhus fevers, or of smallpox, in these snug houses of the middle class, although not only the middle class, but also the highest class had a considerable share of those troubles all through the 17th century. But the 18th century, even the most prosperous part of it, from the accession of George I. to the beginning of the Industrial Revolution in the last quarter or third of it, was none the less a most unwholesome period in the history of England. The health of London was never worse than in those years, and the vital statistics of some other towns, such as Norwich, are little more satisfactory. This was the time which gave us the saying, that God made the country and man made the town. Praise of rural felicity was a common theme in the poetry of the time, as in Johnson’s London:
“There every bush with nature’s music rings,
There every breeze bears health upon its wings.”
Both for the country and the town the history of the public health does not harmonize well with the optimist views of the 18th century. The historians are agreed that, under the two first Georges, during the ministries of Walpole, the Pelhams and Pitt, the prosperity of Britain was general. Adam Smith speaks of “the peculiarly happy circumstances of the country” during the reign of George II. (1727-60). Hallam characterizes the same reign as “the most prosperous that England had ever experienced.” The most recent historian of England in the 18th century is of the same opinion[96]. The novels of Fielding give us the concrete picture of the period with epic fidelity, and the picture is of abundance and prodigality. Agriculture and commerce with the Colonies, India and the continent of Europe, were the sources of the country’s wealth. Farming and stock-raising had been greatly improved by the introduction of roots and sown grasses. In some country parishes the baptisms were three times the burials. But the public health during this period will not appear in a favourable light from what follows. More particularly there were three occasions, about the years 1718, 1728 and 1741, when a single bad harvest in the midst of many abundant ones brought wide-spread distress, with epidemics of typhus and relapsing fever; from which fact it would appear that the common people had little in hand. Thorold Rogers, among economists, was of the opinion that the prosperity was all on the side of the governing and capitalist classes, that the labourers were in “irremediable poverty” and “without hope,” and that the law of parochial settlement, with the artificial fixing of wages by the Quarter Sessions and the bonuses out of the poor-rates, had the effect of keeping the mass of the people on the land “in a condition wherein existence could just be maintained[97].” I shall not attempt an independent judgment in economics, but proceed to those illustrations of national well-being which belong to my subject, leaving the latter to have their due weight on the one side of economical opinion or on the other. Besides the economical question there is of course also an ethical one. When the pinch came about 1766, there was the usual diversity of opinion expressed on the “condition of England” problem, one holding that the labourers were unfairly paid, another that the nation had been made “splendid and flourishing by keeping wages low,” and that the distress was due to “want of industry, want of frugality, want of sobriety, want of principle” among the common people at large. “If in a time of plenty,” wrote one austere moralist, “the labourers would abate of their drunkenness, sloth, and bad economy, and make a reserve against times of scarcity, they would have no reason to complain of want or distress at any time[98].” But there must have been something wrong in the economics and morals of their betters if it were the case that the working class as a whole, and not merely a certain number of individuals in it, was drunken, thriftless and slothful. The familiar proof of this is the apathy of the Church, broken by the Methodist revival of religion.