Decline and Possible Fall of the Classical Record Industry

CANTATA ON THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE CLASSICAL RECORD INDUSTRY.

Prologue.
Malthus for records.

The Eighteenth century population theorist, Malthus, opined that while
population increases geometrically, food supplies increase only
arithmetically. Sooner or later, the widening gap between supply and demand
must end in war, famine, and general misery.

Several decades later, the poet Wordsworth, concerned about his country sang:

"Milton! thou shouldst be living in this hour
England hath need of thee; she is a fen
Of stagnant waters…"

Several centuries later, Heavenly Music Powers, concerned about the state of our classical record industry, reincarnated Wordsworth as the editor of Classical Music Review magazine. He promptly re-applied his muse in this manner:

"Malthus! thou shouldst be living in this hour
Our industry hath need of thee; she is a fen
Of stagnant musick…"

Malthus too reappeared as a concerned classical music lover. He took stock of the situation and realized that his former thesis, re-phrased, describes the plight of the classical record industry perfectly: "While the supply of CDs increases geometrically, record collectors increase only arithmetically. Sooner or later, the widening gap between supply and demand must end, if not in war, famine, and general misery, at least in the demise of Tower Records and the classical record industry".

Introduction.

What the modern-day Malthus meant is that the so-called standard repertoire has become essentially fixed. The most important compositions have already been recorded by most of the important conductors and performers. These recordings are endlessly re-issued in an amazing variety of guises and disguises. The same compositions are endlessly re-recorded by the still-living established artists. They are joined by the newcomers, mostly each-year's competition winners, wanting to try their wings on the same compositions. Orchestras, cities, countries, venues, radio stations have joined in the fray by issuing mammoth packages of essentially unauthorized performances by the famous artists in the same repertoire. The result is a surfeit of recordings. Meanwhile, the demand for these recordings is diminishing, die-hard classical record collectors have plenished and replenished their collections already and are dying out. They are not replaced in large enough numbers and in kind by the new generation. The classical record industry is certainly in decline and hovering at near fall.

The causes of a decline and fall are seldom observed while they are happening. Posthumous diagnoses, of course, abound. The following general comments, however, can be made. It appears that most human endeavors, ideas, technology, movements, and even entire civilizations go through a similar evolutionary pattern. Historiographers, like Marx (Das Kapital), Spengler (The Decline of the West), and Toynbee (A Study of History) have provided seemingly inexorable blueprints for these. Unfortunately, they were not avid record collectors, so their views on the record industry's decline are not known.

Being a mathematically oriented Chemical Engineer, I like to illustrate the evolutionary pattern with the aid of the graph reproduced below. The horizontal axis is a measure of time, the vertical axis is some measure of the "vitality" of the endeavor in terms of more quantifiable parameters, like the number of new ideas, patents, per cent growth of the entity in question, market share, or even income. For the classical record industry the axis might represent the number of truly novel ideas, or new innovative approaches. The S-shaped curve is the most typical of the growth curves. The gentle initial shape represents the slow, hesitant beginning, during which the "teething problems" are worked out. The rapid rise following it traces the efflorescence of the idea, technology, movement, or civilization, the so-called "Golden Period". After spectacular growth, inevitably, it seems, the ideas become stale and the original vitality now turns reactionary, standing in the way of new vital movement. The inevitable slowdown follows, and the curve flattens out.
What happens next is crucial. There are three possibilities, all illustrated by dashed lines. In most cases a decline follows (lower dashed line). On occasion, the essentially flat trend continues indefinitely, reaching a "steady-state" condition (flat dashed line). In even rarer cases the movement renews itself, in essence splicing a new S-curve onto the end. The beginning of the new S-curve is shown as the upward arcing dashed line.

At present the classical record industry is poised at the end of the solid line, facing one of the three outcomes. Describing the reason why we find ourselves in this spot is beyond my present objective. Nor am I prescient enough to indicate how to move to the next upturn. My aim is to describe the present dangerous practices which, if persist, will surely lead to further decline. The skeleton of the problem is indicated below.

The same performance is endlessly recycled by the same company.
The same performance is leased to other companies.
The same performance is reissued in new sonic garb.
The same performance is appropriated by the "independent minors".
The same repertoire is endlessly re-recorded by the same artists.
The same repertoire is diluted by orchestral issues.
The same repertoire is diluted by unauthorized issues by every venue.
The same repertoire is recorded by all newcomers.
Few people complain.
No one offers a viable solution.

In the following I would like to add a bit of flesh to the above skeleton.
Part 1. Variations on a recording

Like the Goldberg, this one starts simply. A famous artist records a famous composition. It is issued by one of the major recording companies. A few months later it cannot be found on the shelves. It finds it way to Berkshire Records, the Mecca of cutouts. Some time later the same recording finds itself back in the catalogue by itself, as a double album, or as part in a giant set, or coupled with a wide variety of matching and non-matching partners. Imaginative marketing executives may designate it as part of "Essential Classics". Others, thinking that the average music lover listens more on weekends, may assign it as part of "Weekend Classics". Can "twofers" be far behind? Of course, not. If the artist subsequently fades from public view, it will have the epithet "legendary" added to his name and his recording can pass into the "Legendary (never "historical") Recordings", or "Legendary Performers" series. If the artist, becomes a cult figure, "famous" or "great" will be his Homeric epithets, and the same recording will receive the Nobel prize equivalent of the recordings and move into the "Great Pianists of the Twentieth Century", or perhaps included in the "Great Conductors" series. The final bestowal is the entry into the Walhalla of records, inclusion into the "Great Recordings", or into the "50 Great Recordings". Simultaneously, several new "plain reissues" may accompany of the above, in one of the dozen remasterings, all claiming substantial sonic improvements. (See Part 2, below).

A new strain enters. The recording reappears in an entirely new label: as Testament, Classics for Pleasure and even Naxos, one of the true heroes in our time.

If old enough, and legendary enough to be exempt of copyright laws, "the independents", who paradoxically depend on previously issued performances by the majors, are allowed to market the same performance. As so often in Beethoven, as in the last movement of Eroica, the variations become increasingly difficult to follow. There are two kinds of independents, the scrupulous and the unscrupulous. The first group, often hampered by the unavailability of the master tapes, tries to add its grace notes to the basic theme by improving its sonics. This too comes in several versions. Often the sonic improvement consists in leaving all the original hiss in the performance to contrast this version to the original, in which the majors eliminated all hiss and most of the upper partials. More often, however, the independents hire wizards, who not only can restore the lost original sound, but can also perform time travel, can enter the minds of the performer, and magically confer sonic improvements not found in the original (see Part 3, below). Often several wizards contest each other for the palm for the best re imagination of the original.

In contrast, the unscrupulous companies merely copy others, have no wizards, no wizardry except that of invisibility, and can best be distinguished from others by the fact that they leave no address on the back of the jewel box.
By now, only a select few can trace the path from the original. No wonder one of the fastest rising profession in the US is the discographer!

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?

Part 2.
New wine in newer bottle: Adventures with Toscanini. 1 bit,16 bit, 18 bit, 20 bit. SACD, DVD-A.

Technological improvements are welcome in most walks of life, seldom more than in sound reproduction, in which field we are a long way from mistaking a record for the live performance. May I indulge myself making a running start with LPs, to indicate that the phenomena under discussion are not new? Just wearing thin.

It was in the nineteen-sixties, under the financially disastrous influence of Mr. Harris Goldsmith, then with High Fidelity magazine, that I first encountered Toscanini on records. The canonical nine of Beethoven were as good a place to start as any. So I purchased all nine on RCA VIC-800 thinking that was it. Incomparable though frantic performances, wretched sonics, Emery board-like surfaces. Still, I figured, with a little luck they would last me long enough so I could go on investigating other interpretations. How wrong could I be! Shortly thereafter, one of the unofficial cheerleaders of the American Record Industry, Mr. Richard Freed of Stereo Review magazine started extolling the virtues of artificial stereo, which would flesh out, sonically that is, Maestro Toscanini's lean sound. At his advice I purchased as many of the VICS-xxxx(e) records as I could find before RCA would withdraw them from circulation. If that's the way the Maestro sounded, who was I to dispute it? I did not. Others did, notably the aforesaid Mr. Goldsmith and Mr. Mortimer Franks of Fanfare magazine, "Joint Keepers of the Original Toscanini Sound". Realizing that they might be right, I rummaged through countless used record shops on both sides of the Atlantic until I found the "ur-pressing", RCA LM 6901. A different sound for sure, mono of course, maybe a few reverbs here and there, ticks, pops, scratches, but I could finally rest on my (or Toscanini's) laurels. At least until I found out from the above duo that even these recordings had been deleteriously altered by RCA engineers, who, having flunked Conducting, went into Audio Engineering. Furthermore, I was also informed that there existed pristine overseas versions boasting impeccable surfaces as well. (Actually, one did not have to strain too hard to improve on the US pressings).

So off I went on another quest to collect as many British RCA AT records as I could. Alas, these were the times when German engineering epitomized the best Western technology, so it did not take much, on the basis of articles in The Absolute Sound magazine, to convince me of the superiority of the German AT issues, like RCA AT 600. Of course I switched to these and their siblings. If only the Japanese hadn't come along with their extra thick, ultra silent, 100% virgin vinyl pressings! I had to have them and I did.

It was about that time that Franklin Mint issue its monumental, integral Toscanini issue, which I was forced to forego because of near financial insolvency. At least, until the Italians came out with their half-speed mastered, equally integral
RCA VL versions. On stereo, no less! Or was it stereo? At any rate, I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, as we were rapidly running out of countries, unless the UN wanted to enter the field.

Then, disaster struck again: CDs. I had to start over. But at least they were perfect replicas of the Platonic master tapes still existing in Mr. Goldsmith's and Mr. Franks' heads. As usual, the Japanese were first out of the starting block, and I am sure I was first out of my block of apartments in Philadelphia who absolutely had to have every Japanese CD, guaranteed to sound like the real thing, whatever that was. Even at exorbitant prices they were a bargain, holding out hope that they would last a lifetime, or until, believing Stereophile magazine, one treated them with Armorall. At any rate, I thought the Eroica was one of the early Japanese offerings. Alas, once more, the entire series turned out to be shrill and unfaithful. If I recall, RCA subsequently withdrew them, replacing them with US versions (probably made in Japan). Of course, it was only a perfect replacement if one was willing to accept the 1949 performance for the one recorded in 1953.

I will not describe a similar journey in CD land. Apparently, age was catching up with me and I resisted the urge to purchase the entire BMG series. While a blow to the Economy, it was lucky for me. Because on the horizon were more undreamt-of improvements. I am now talking about the entire industry, not only the Toscanini industry. Philosophically speaking it is difficult to improve on perfection. But what escaped the philosophers of yore was accomplished by the Industry, they improved on the perfect replicas the original CDs had been supposed to be. Homer, or better yet, Aristophanes, might have done justice to the war between the so-called "golden eared" audiophiles noting sonic flaws, and the yes-men of and for the record industry, who heard no evil. I cannot. But it needs to be pointed out that the constant string of supposed sonic improvements were seldom accompanied by an admission that earlier claims to perfection had been misleading. Just as the newer ones soon turned out to be. Where is the new Gibbon to describe the gradual changes from 16 bit to 18 bit, 20 and so on, each promising sonic Nirvanas? The latest ones, Super Audio CDs (SACD) and DVD-A promise to deliver what the Industry had claimed 20 years ago. But how many times can the average record collector be expected to re-purchase the same performance? The famous "point of diminishing return" is now operating.

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?


Part 3. Masters of remastering. Hyphenated Stokowski.

In the golden age of recordings, articles abounded dealing with great controversies of the correct way of interpretation. Toscanini vs. Furtwängler, Heifetz vs. Szigeti, Schnabel vs. Arrau were passionately debated in musical magazines. Progress was being made: Bach-Stokowski, Handel-Beecham were slowly giving way to Bach and Handel on modern instruments, and later to period instruments. These days, ironically, we have hyphenated Stokowski and Beecham, as in "Stokowski-Marston" and "Beecham-Obert-Thorn".

Articles are now devoted to the minute differences of a Mengelberg performance as remastered by these two acknowledged masters of the remastering industry. Mark, I do not wish to diminish the contribution of these two and others; we owe them debt of gratitude for making the music of the hissy, noisy, shellacky remote past so enjoyable. But nothing is more symptomatic of the lack of vitality in the record industry than the shift in emphasis from the performance to the remastering. From the artist to the craftsman. It is as if the discussion of Rodin's statues were shifted to the discussion of the various foundries casting the bronzes.

We can now not only chose a conductor to guide us in a Beethoven symphony, not only whether it be early, middle or late Furtwangler, but also whether on EMI, as remastered by one of the majors, or on Pearl, Biddulph, or Dutton Laboratories, as remastered by the Marston, Obert-Thorn, Seth Winner, and their colleagues. There may even be cases when "early" Marston is reviewed against one his later incarnation on the same performance.

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?

Part 4. 7-year itch, Same composition, same artist

In a kinder, gentler, and less ego-driven era, artists would wait decades before tackling the Mt. Olympus of music, Beethoven symphonies, and sonatas, and the equally hallowed tops of Bach Das Wohletemperierte Klavier, or Mozart Piano Concertos.

No more. As reliable as the return of Haley's comet, but far more frequent, is the appearance of another issue of the mighty nine by one of our conductors. Admittedly, Karajan or Dietrich Fisher-Dieskau are hard acts to follow. By popular demand Connan Doyle had to resurrect Sherlock Holmes; in similar fashion in this age of medical advances might not the industry bring back Karajan? Until then we have to do with lesser lights. Even Abbado is only on his second cycle. But he has time on his side.

It takes a monumental ego on the part of the artist, and equally monumental cupidity on the part of the industry to believe that he has significant new insight into the well-traveled great works, every seven, ten, or even 20 years. If ever.

Of course, the reviewers have a field day comparing, say, early, middle, and late Karajan. Or shall I add intermediate Karajan? Or DFK in Schubert songs? Or Brendel in Beethoven sonatas? The critic often finds great and significant differences in, say, the second movement subsidiary theme which is now significantly slower, or the transitional 3-bar motif, where in the remake the second clarinets are allowed to shine. Indeed they do. And the artist now, alleluia, takes the second movement exposition repeat (now there is a Ph.D. industry for you!). Of course, differences are inevitable. Somewhat more questionable whether we are any closer to the Platonic essence of the work.

Given the ephemeral nature of our audial memory, a cynic might even wonder that if the above critic, unbeknownst to him, were to listen to the identical record twice on different days would he not find significant differences in the two performances, attributing them to significant new interpretive insights.

It is similarly questionable whether the same artist can reproduce the same performance twice in a row. Different takes of Mengelberg, or Toscanini, indicate that this is by no means the case: the performances vary. I have a CD of Josef Hofmann's in which he plays the same Chopin Waltz four times in a row. Each is different.

A devilish thought occurs. We need not wait seven years for the artists to record the same piece; we can have them record the same piece five times in five days. Keep four in the can and issue them in periodic intervals. They will be different. The suggestion, of course, is in jest, but only partly, to allow me to state my possibly controversial thesis. It is that periodic remakes and pirated performances of an artist even over a span of several decades seldom show a recognizable arc toward a deeper understanding of a composition, or even a clear movement toward a different interpretive pole. The different performances are rather chance variations on an innate artistic mean, owing to the momentary circumstances of different venues, orchestras, personal and historical events, and aging.

Even such a thoughtful conductor as Furtwängler, who spent a lifetime pursuing the Beethovenian truth, evinced no clear interpretive movement in his 10 or so published performances of Beethoven's Choral Symphony or in others. Similarly, Schnabel's three performances of the Emperor Concerto bear a constant creative imprint that is quite different from Arrau's several remakes. Heifetz' constancy of performances is well known, but if one looks at Szigeti's three Beethoven violin concerto performances, or his several available Bach unaccompanied pieces over decades, one cannot espy a clear movement, except the inevitably effects of Father Time.
If this is how it goes with the Olympians, are today's mortals any different?
More to the point: can the average, non-specialist record collector keep up? I fear not. Does he care? I think not.

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?

Interlude #1 Discoveries, discoveries. Bernstein in Paris, Mengelberg in Budapest, Oistrakh in Timbuktu, Szell in Tokyo.

The avalanche of new issues cannot be halted. Every city, every orchestra ever visited by a famous artist joins in the fray. In an average year a touring virtuoso will easily give 100 performances, mostly in different venues. Even conductors guest-perform, or take their orchestras (which of the many?) on tours. There are easily 200 artists in public, with an average performing lifetime of 30 years. Most of these performances are recorded. Do the math! The possibilities are staggering. (They come out to be only 600,00). What's worse, they are being turned into reality. Most great artists have had high standards, often vetoing the release of a record that did not meet theirs. Dead, or prevented from objecting, their every slipshod performance can now find its way to the public. Admittedly, reviewers often bemoan this practice, but then continue gleefully with the review. Maybe a refusal to review would be a more apt response. After all, all magazines make editorial decisions on which issues to review.

There are cases in which this practice is welcomed. Owing to many factors, several great conductors and performers could not land lasting recording contracts. Issues of their performances can act as corrective by giving us a more complete picture.

Beyond these comments I can only repeat what I said discussing reissues. In the case of established artists with ample available commercial documentation, these issues rarely provide great additional insight.

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?

Interlude #2 Enter the orchestras.

As if the above-described CD avalanche were not enough, orchestras have entered the field, flooding the market with gigantic boxes of taped in-house performances. Kind critics will find soothing words about them, but the truth is that the ratio of diamond to chaff is extremely low. They give occasional, unaccustomed glimpses of the familiar performer, of interest to the specialist, but rarely to the general public.

Such boxes are now de rigeur for major, not so major, and minor orchestras. If the Chicago box appears can New York, Philadelphia, Cleveland be far behind? What about the "Aristocrat of the Orchestras"? They too enter. I don't have a US map while I am writing so I cannot be sure if there are cities not yet in this business. Holland certainly is, issuing great quantities of Von Beinum and Mengelberg tapes. Some of these may even be valuable to collectors of historic recordings and collectors of large boxed issues. A new variant is exemplified by such issues as NY Philharmonic: The Masur Years. Ten discs, one of the smaller ones.

Conductors are famously long-lived. With this proviso, this time I will let you calculate the number of potential issues. However, as a bonus, in the Appendix I will indicate the possibly disastrous effects of collecting these giant boxes.

Of course, the Russians don't want to lose this race too. They have issued hundreds of cough-ridden, wretched-sounding performances from their archives.
Not only do we get a view of the fabled soloists dishabille, as it were, but we also get the fabled teachers of the fabled pianists. Who knows, their teacher, Anton Rubinstein may yet appear.

Most of these pale besides the vaults of the mighty BBC. Of course, their performances are all legendary (even if obscure).

The eagle-eyed readers may have noticed that one of the headlines in the previous section is true. I made up the other ones, but who knows, maybe performances will turn up. George Szell; Live in Tokyo 1970 available from the Cleveland orchestra, parts of it already included in Cleveland Orchestra's giant package. Of course, there were differences between these and Szell's other recordings, as meticulously observed by Mortimer Franks on page 234 in Fanfare 25:4. I repeat what I have said before: it would be a miracle if there weren't any. Mr. Franks catalogs all the differences, but does not offer his own preference. So what's the point? Commenting, for instance, on the differences between Sibelius Seconds, Mr. Franks indicates that, "...the major difference between them being the more expansive pace of this live finale". Well, yes. But is that good, bad, or indifferent? Does he like it? Should we? At least to Mr. Franks' credit (who laudibly synchronized the two performances on different players---how many people would do that?) he did not finish with the often-used tautological cliché: "Szell compleatists will, of course, want this. They will. By definition. Will anyone else?

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?

Part 5. Brave new Horowitzes.

Each year countless young musicians go forth in search of the Holy Grail: the winning one of the increasing number of competitions thereby gaining admittance to musical Camelot. As a reward, they get to perform the same standard repertoire their elders have performed every seven or so years legally, and on countless pirated occasions as chronicled above. Alas, the market can only accommodate a finite number of fire-eating Russian, Horowitz-like pianists, or diminutive Oriental wundergirls playing toy violins, or even Valentino-sex-appealed acrobatic conductors.

Most young artists are innocent. Their only sin is that they were born too late. Too late to make meaningful contribution to a fixed number of masterpieces by providing anything new. Beethoven symphonies, for instance, have been played in every conceivable way from the fiery Toscanini to the metaphysical Furtwängler, from the sane and objective Weingartner to the warm and fuzzy Bruno Walter, from the theatrical Stokowski to the mercurial Mengelberg, from the hyperkinetic Solti to the plodding Klemperer, from the hydra-headed ubiquitous Karajan, to the elusive, balanced Carlos Kleiber, from Abbado to (extending the list to other repertoire as well) Nikisch, Boehm, Rosbaud, Oscar Fried, Horenstein, Krauss, Abendroth, E. Kleiber, F. Busch, Jochum, Keilbert, Knappertburscht, Scherchen, Krips, Schuricht, De Sabata, Cantelli, Giulini, Ansermet, Desormier, Cluytens, Markevich, Monteux, Munch, Reiner, Leinsdorf, Beecham, Coates, Boult, Barbirolli, oh all right, Britten, Talich, Ancerl, Mravinsky, Barshai plus all those many Russians, Bernstein, Stock, Hendl, Szell, Ormandi, Dorati, Rodzinsky, Rudolf, Sternberg, Mitropoulus, Kubelik, Von Beinum, Haitink, Koussewitzky, Celibidache, Kertesz, Fricsay, Ferencsik, Tennestedt, and maybe others?

Where is the Beethoven pianist to go if he is to avoid Schnabel, Kempff, Annie Fischer, Arrau, Pollini, Brendel, Goode, Russell Sherman, Solomon, Kovacevic, Claude Frank, Richter, Gilels, Backhaus, and Gieseking?

Pity the poor violinists, their repertoire is even more severely limited. Do they or their promoters seriously believe that they can provide new gloss on the standard repertoire already mined by the likes of Kreisler, Thibaud, Elman, Heifetz, Schumsky, Milstein, Grumiaux, Szeryng, Fuchs, Adolph Busch, Szigeti, Stern, Menuhin, Schneiderhan, Kulenkampf, Bustabo, Huberman, D. Oistrakh, Rosand, Ricci, Francescatti, Morini, Soames, Laredo, Igor Oistrakh, Oleg Kagan, Pavel Kagan, Suk, Wilkomirska, De Vito, Jeanette Neveu, or even the more elusive Vasha Prihoda, Tosha Seidel, Gingold, Enesco, Zimballist, Kolchansky, Spalding? Or the newer ones, Pearlman, Zuckermann, Kung Wa Chu, Amoyal, Accardo, Mutter, Midori, Vengerov, Kennedy, Bell, Fodor, Sonnenberg, Hahn, Mullova, Zimmerman, Chang, Sitkovetzki, Tretiakov, Spivakov, Zehetmair, Tasmin Little, Pamela Frank, and others?

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?

Finale. Handmaidens of the Decline.

Who are at fault? I have a little list:
The composers, who at one time abandoned their audience.
The audience, which makes nary an effort to keep up with the new trends.
The music departments, which confuse mathematics and computer sciences with music.
The performing artists, who with minimal exception keep catering to the public by performing the same war-horses.
The orchestras that are similarly stuck.
The Record Industry that has neither vision nor strategy to make a transition to the new.
Concert-going parents, who don't impart their love of the classical the their rockenrolling offsprings.
Concert hall managers, who think that all it takes to interest young audiences is modern architecture.
Critics of modern, music, who mistake each novel composition for a masterpiece.
Conventional critics, who cannot call a halt to the proliferation of essentially indistinguishable performances.
Magazines that stick their editorial heads in the sand.
And commentators like me who only keep complaining without suggesting remedies.

Any wonder why the Industry is in trouble?

Appendix. The mathematics of CD collecting.

Let's do the math. It is instructive. Let's assume that one the giant orchestral boxes have dimensions of 5 in. x 8 in. or 40 sq. in. It comes to almost 0.3 sq. ft. Let us assume the average CD enthusiast buys 100 boxes a year. That is 30 sq. ft. of CD! Assume that the average record stand is 3 ft high, his acquisition will take up 10 linear ft. each year. Well-healed collectors may have a rectangular dedicated listening room whose long sides are 20 ft. If they stack CDs on both sides, they will have a total of 40 linear ft. of space. In 4 years, they will have to buy a new house. Or buy fewer CDs. This is something homebuilders and record companies should take into consideration.

The mathematically advantaged will know how to redo the calculation for different combinations or for different purchase patterns.

Notes.

1. These are not exactly Malthus' words, especially because he changed them considerably between the first edition of his "Essay on the Principle of Population" (London, 1798), and the second edition in 1803.