Chapter 824: 732 "Principle of Population

Chapter 824: Chapter 732 “Principle of Population

South bank of the Thames River.

At 3 p.m., dock workers greeted one another, put down their work, and gathered in small groups behind the warehouse in sheltered spots to enjoy a 20-minute tea break.

But lately, tea has become increasingly rare during the tea break.

Most of the workers gnawed on black bread. Those who were lucky enough to have a bit of almost flavorless tea drew envious glances from others.

At that moment, a man wearing a relatively tidy black short coat approached the group and began conversing quietly with the workers.

After a moment, he walked over and patted Andy’s father, Scott, on the shoulder. Glancing at the clear water in Scott’s cup, he sighed, “Scott, things haven’t been easy lately, have they?”

Scott turned his head and recognized the man as someone from the dockworkers’ union. He nodded dejectedly.

The man in black looked toward the supervisors and lowered his voice: “Damn it, sugar prices are already so high, and these heartless bastards still want to cut our wages!”

Scott nodded in agreement yet again.

The man continued, “We’re planning to strike next Wednesday, together as one, and march to Downing Street to protest—demanding wage restoration and lower sugar prices. This is big, you must go with everyone.”

Scott’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “I—I can’t go… I’ll get fired. If I lose my job, my whole family will starve…”

“What are you afraid of? This time everyone is participating. Do you think they’d dare fire all of us? Who’s going to unload the cargo from the docked ships then?”

Scott still shook his head. “No, no, if things spiral out of control, we’ll be thrown in jail.”

A balding worker nearby overheard and joined the conversation: “Scott, we have to fight back!”

“But…”

The balding man whispered urgently into Scott’s ear, “I saw Anna on Bade Street the day before yesterday.”

Scott froze. He knew perfectly well what Bade Street represented, but he still deceived himself: “Why… was she there?”

“Well, uh, you know… she was soliciting clients there.”

Scott’s face turned pale as iron, and he forcefully ran his fingers through his hair, emitting guttural, anguished sounds.

His daughter had given him some money a few days ago, claiming she’d earned it by mending clothes for others. He had actually believed her—but now he realized the bitter truth.

Moments later, he suddenly stood up, eyes flushed red, and said to the union man, “Fine, I’ll go!”

St. James’s Palace.

In the hallway, Sir Stuart hugged William Pitt Junior tightly and said in a very gentle tone, “My dear, you are the best, and you will overcome everything in the end.”

William Pitt Junior lightly patted his back and nodded, “Now I feel much more at ease. Thank you for always giving me unwavering support when I need it the most.”

“It’s what I should do.”

Sir Stuart released him and gestured further down the hallway. “His Majesty has been in good condition of late, go ahead.”

King George III’s ability to return to the palace from his convalescence at Windsor Castle was proof enough that his illness was under control.

Of course, it wasn’t thanks to Doctor Willis’s treatments involving venomous creatures or beatings. Porphyria, after all, has such characteristics—periods of symptoms followed by spontaneous relief.

William Pitt Junior stepped through the opened door by an attendant and gave a bow to King George III, who was seated and reading a book. “Your Majesty, seeing Your health recover brings me sincere joy.”

King George III glanced at him briefly. “I know you’re busy; speak directly if you have something to say.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” William Pitt Junior bowed again. “To put it bluntly, the situation is quite difficult.”

“Hmm.”

“Sugar prices continue to surge. We are subsidizing nearly one million British Pounds monthly and still cannot ease the sugar shortage. Unemployment is worsening, and dissent is erupting everywhere. Trade isn’t yielding satisfactory results either.”

The King merely nodded. “What are your plans?”

William Pitt Junior took a deep breath, “We must launch it ahead of schedule.”

“Are you confident?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The Prime Minister straightened his posture. “We will unite at least five major nations and muster over 300,000 troops. Coupled with our Navy, according to the judgment of the Marquess of Wellesley, the war will conclude within six months.”

“Then proceed. I will provide you with my full support.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said William Pitt Junior. “Before initiating the grand war, however, I need to stabilize the domestic situation first.”

“Go on.”

“First, we must increase taxation. We need sufficient funds for warfare. For this, I need Your support in getting the proposal passed within Parliament.”

William Pitt’s Tory Party held fewer parliamentary seats than the opposition party. Tax increases had always been a fierce battleground in the British Parliament, and his large-scale tax program was likely to face rejection by the Whig Party.

Though the King of England ostensibly did not engage in politics, his influence within Parliament remained quite substantial.

King George III nodded.

William Pitt Junior continued, “Additionally, I intend to temporarily suspend the ‘Personal Protection Law,’ banning assemblies, public speeches, and arresting the leaders of radical organizations. Further, I propose a ‘Prevention of Illegal Workers’ Combination Regulations’ bill, to prevent unauthorized labor strikes and potential acts of violence.”

The ‘Personal Protection Law’ had only recently been passed in Parliament, so suspending it was bound to face massive resistance. The latter bill would anger members of the lower house with less privileged backgrounds.

During peacetime, such measures would be unthinkable.

King George III nodded nonetheless. “Very well, I understand.”

He suddenly thought of something and asked, “Oh, do you know Reverend Malthus?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. He holds profound insights into the theories of social management and human development.”

King George III raised the manuscript in his hand. “This is his latest work, *Principle of Population.* It contains some very intriguing ideas.

“He asserts that humanity tends to overpopulate. When the world has excessive numbers, people must be stratified—some are richer, educated, and moral; others are poorer, miserable, ignorant, and immoral.

“Thus, plagues, famine, and wars are all necessary, as they limit excessive population growth and restore balance to human society. For those at the bottom, there is no need to improve their conditions—letting them disappear is actually beneficial.

“Perhaps you could invite Reverend Malthus to deliver some speeches in Parliament. This might help reduce the pressure you’re facing.”

“Thank you for your suggestion. I will certainly ask for his support.”

Before William Pitt Junior could finish his sentence, loud commotion erupted outside St. James’s Palace. Amid the noise, he could faintly discern slogans like “Lower sugar prices” and “Increase wages.”

William Pitt quickly walked to the window and saw a street crowded with over a thousand people, holding up straw effigies and banners, beating gongs and drums, marching toward Ten Downing Street.

[Note 1] These two control measures historically did exist in England, though about ten years later than depicted in this story. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the British government was notably harsh in its domestic policies.