Proposals for Building, in Every County, a Working-Alms-House or Hospital: as the Best Expedient to Perfect the Trade and Manufactory of Linnen Cloth

In Short

This tract outlines a systematic economic and social scheme to transform England’s poor into a productive workforce. By establishing a "Working-Alms-House" in every county, the author aims to eliminate vagrancy, replace expensive foreign linen imports with domestic production, and improve agricultural output through the widespread cultivation of hemp and flax. Writing with the earnest conviction of a reformer, the author offers a blend of pragmatic economic calculations and moral exhortation, framing the systematic employment of the poor as a Christian duty that serves both the national treasury and the soul.

The Story

The argument begins with a diagnosis of a nation in distress. The author observes that trade is decaying, the poor are multiplying, and a vast quantity of English wealth is bleeding out of the kingdom to purchase linen from foreign nations. The proposed remedy is the erection of a "Working-Alms-House" in every county. This institution is not merely a place of shelter, but a manufacturing hub where the vulnerable—specifically children, the aged, and those currently living as vagrants—are gathered and set to task.

The author argues that the strength of this plan lies in its scale and discipline. By concentrating thousands of spinners under one roof, the nation can manufacture over a million pounds' worth of linen cloth annually, effectively keeping that treasure within its own borders. He addresses the physical limitations of his workforce by introducing technical innovations: a custom spinning engine that allows one operator to drive fifty wheels, and a mechanical device for beating hemp, which removes the most back-breaking element of the labor. Through these engines, the author claims that even the weakest children can be transformed into efficient, self-supporting workers.

Beyond economics, the author champions a moral transformation. He envisions these houses as centers of "good government," where, under the guidance of a godly minister, the poor will be taught industry and religion. He proposes that even criminal convicts should be sent to these houses for life, where they can be kept behind iron grates and put to productive labor rather than being transported or released to commit further crimes.

To fund these massive undertakings, the author suggests a local tax based on parish property values, arguing that the initial investment will quickly pay for itself through the elimination of poor relief and the enrichment of the land via hemp and flax cultivation. The author acknowledges that he has faced intense ridicule and envy for his proposals, yet he remains undeterred. He concludes with a fervent plea to Parliament and the intellectual elite, particularly the Royal Society, to refine or adopt these methods. He maintains that his goal is not personal fame, but the salvation of souls and the prosperity of the state. He ends with a postscript, detailing his successful efforts to gain the approval of Prince Rupert and the King, underscoring his belief that this national project is not only essential but entirely achievable if the governing authorities choose to act.

How It Unfolds

The diagnosis of decline The author surveys the landscape of seventeenth-century England, noting the pervasive poverty and the heavy drain of capital caused by dependence on foreign linen. He posits that the current state of industry is insufficient and that the nation is in a slow, dangerous economic consumption.

The proposal for reform The central solution is presented: the establishment of county-wide workhouses that serve as both factories and schools of industry. He details the math behind his projected production, proving to his own satisfaction that the volume of linen required can be easily met by the unemployed.

Engineering the solution He introduces his mechanical inventions, which are intended to multiply the labor of the weak and unskilled. By automating the turning of the wheel, he aims to free the hands of the spinner for more delicate work, ensuring that production speed increases dramatically.

Defending against the skeptics The author methodically answers a series of objections regarding the cost of construction, the quality of English flax, and the potential for confusion in such a large enterprise. He insists that his critics lack foresight and that the financial returns to the landowners and the state will far exceed the initial costs.

A plea for divine and national order The conclusion pivots to the moral and spiritual necessity of the plan. He asserts that by enforcing labor, the state is performing a godly act, purging the land of idleness and ensuring that both the nation’s wealth and the souls of its people are preserved.

The People

The primary figure is the author, a dedicated and self-described "projector" who sees himself as a humble servant to both the King and the poor. He is clearly defensive, having been stung by previous mockery and the betrayal of a brother, yet he remains confident in his technical ingenuity. He desires validation from the "great wisdom" of Parliament and the scientific rigor of the Royal Society, hoping to be seen as a patriot rather than a crackpot.

He identifies the "Poor" as a collective group—vagrants, children, and the aged—who are currently a "burden" to the parishes. In his view, these people lack only the structure of an institution to become productive citizens. He views them as raw material for his machine, needing both "instruction" and "correction" to reach their potential.

The "Prince" and the "Secretary of State" appear as figures of authority whose blessing the author seeks. He respects their power to turn his proposals into law, believing that his plan is a matter of statecraft that only the highest levels of government can properly implement. Finally, the "Divine" is invoked as a necessary overseer for the houses, ensuring that the labor performed within the walls is tempered by religious education, effectively turning the economic workhouse into a site of spiritual reclamation.

In Its Own Voice

That there may be Erected in every County according to its Extent or Populousness, a greater or lesser Working-Alms-House, wherein the Poor may be continually employed in the Manufactory of Linnen Cloth.

The author defines the fundamental structure of his national economic reform.

I know whoever will attempt any thing for publick Benefit, may expect these Three things. (The first is Necessary, the second Customary, and the third Diabolical) viz., To be the Object of wise mens Censure, other mens Laughter, and if advantagious to himself, Envies implacable displeasure.

The author reflects on the hostile reception he has received from his peers while trying to promote his inventions.

Money being kept at home within the Body of the Nation, is (as it hath no less aptly, than frequently been resembled) like the Blood in its Circulation in the Body of Man, which is not the less for its perpetual Motion; but the whole Body thereby the better supplyed, strengthened, and nourished in every Part.

This metaphor serves as the author's primary economic justification for banning foreign imports.

What It's Really About

At its core, the work is a treatise on the state's responsibility to manage its human and natural resources. The author is obsessed with the concept of "circulation"—both of money and labor. He argues that idleness is a systemic failure of government that leads to both national poverty and individual sin. The text seeks to resolve the tension between private charity and public policy, ultimately suggesting that the state has a mandate to enforce industry as a form of social engineering. It asks: what is the true cost of poverty, and can a nation achieve total economic self-sufficiency through strict, institutionalized labor?

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of economic thought or the evolution of social welfare will find this a fascinating, if sometimes jarring, primary source. It captures the seventeenth-century obsession with mercantilism and the early mechanical imagination. The author’s voice is remarkably persistent and transparent; he is not trying to hide his biases, but rather to argue them with a fervor that borders on the desperate.

It is important to approach the text with an awareness of its era’s harsh attitudes toward the poor. The author views the destitute through a lens of utility, and his suggestions for the treatment of convicts and the confinement of the "idle" reflect a worldview where personal liberty is strictly subordinate to national efficiency. The language, while dense with the period’s orthography and syntax, is logical and structured, making it accessible to a patient reader. It serves as a reminder of how deeply the concepts of "work" and "morality" were once intertwined in the Western mind. You will likely walk away from it thinking about the origins of the welfare state and the strange, enduring human desire to solve complex social problems with a single, elegant machine.