—So that I have no reſource, either for myſelf or Mrs. D____, but the ſale of a few trinkets, which I had fortunately ſecreted on my firſt arreſt. How are we to exiſt, and what an exiſtence to be ſolicitouſ about! In gayer moments, and, perhaps, a little tinctured by romantic refinement, I have thought Dr. Johnſon made poverty too excluſively the ſubject of compaſſion: indeed I believe he uſed to ſay, it was the only evil he really felt for. This, to one who has known only mental ſuffering, appears the notion of a coarſe mind; but I doubt whether, the firſt time we are alarmed by the fear of want, the dread of dependence does not render us in part his converts. The opinion of our Engliſh ſage is more natural than we may at firſt imagine; or why is it that we are affected by the ſimple diſtreſſes of Jane Shore, beyond thoſe of any other heroine?—Yours.
April 22, 1794.
Our abode becomes daily more crouded; and I obſerve, that the greater part of thoſe now arreſted are farmers. This appears ſtrange enough, when we conſider how much the revolutionary perſecution has hitherto ſpared this claſs of people; and you will naturally enquire why it has at length reached them.
It has been often obſerved, that the two extremes of ſociety are nearly the ſame in all countries; the great reſemble each other from education, the little from nature. Compariſons, therefore, of morals and mannerſ ſhould be drawn from the intervening claſſes; yet from this compariſon alſo I believe we muſt exclude farmers, who are every where the ſame, and who ſeem always more marked by profeſſional ſimilitude than national diſtinction.
The French farmer exhibits the ſame acuteneſs in all that regards his own intereſt, and the ſame ſtupidity on moſt other occaſions, as the mere Engliſh one; and the ſame objects which enlarge the underſtanding and dilate the heart of other people, ſeem to have a contrary effect on both. They contemplate the objects of nature as the ſtock-jobber does the viciſſitudes of the public funds: "the dews of heaven," and the enlivening orb by which they are diſpelled, are to the farmer only objects of avaricious ſpeculation; and the ſcarcity, which is partially profitable, is but too often more welcome than a general abundance.—They conſider nothing beyond the limits of their own farms, except for the purpoſe of making envious compariſons with thoſe of their neighbours; and being fed and clothed almoſt without intermediate commerce, they have little neceſſity for communication, and are nearly as iſolated a part of ſociety as ſailors themſelves.
The French revolutioniſts have not been unobſerving of theſe circumſtances, nor ſcrupulous of profiting by them: they knew they might have diſcuſſed for ever their metaphyſical definitions of the rights of man, without reaching the comprehenſion, or exciting the intereſt, of the country people; but that if they would not underſtand the propagation of the rights of man, they would very eaſily comprehend an abolition of the rights of their landlords. Accordingly, the firſt principle of liberty they were taught from the new code was, that they had a right to aſſemble in arms, to force the ſurrender of title-deeds; and their firſt revolutionary notions of equality and property ſeem to have been manifeſted by the burning of chateaux, and refuſing to pay their rents. They were permitted to intimidate their landlords, in order to force them to emigration, and either to ſell their eſtates at a low price, or leave them to the mercy of the tenants.
At a time when the neceſſities of the ſtate had been great enough to be made the pretext of a dreadful revolution, they were not only almoſt exempt from contributing to its relief, but were enriched by the common diſtreſs; and while the reſt of their countrymen beheld with unavailing regret their property gradually replaced by ſcraps of paper, the peaſantſ became inſolent and daring by impunity, refuſed to ſell but for ſpecie, and were daily amaſſing wealth. It is not therefore to be wondered at, that they were partial to the new order of things. The priſons might have overflowed or been thinned by the miſeries of thoſe with whom they had been crowded—the Revolutionary Tribunal might have ſacrificed half France, and theſe ſelfiſh citizens, I fear, would have beheld it tranquilly, had not the requiſition forced their labourers to the army, and the "maximum" lowered the price of their corn. The exigency of the war, and an internal ſcarcity, having rendered theſe meaſures neceſſary, and it being found impoſſible to perſuade the farmers into a peaceful compliance with them, the government has had recourſe to its uſual ſummary mode of expoſtulation—a priſon or the Guillotine.*
* The avarice of the farmers was doubtleſs to be condemned, but the cruel deſpotiſm of the government almoſt weakened our ſenſe of rectitude; for by confounding error with guilt, and guilt with innocence, they habituated us to indiſcriminate pity, and obliged uſ to tranſfer our hatred of a crime to thoſe who in puniſhing it, obſerved neither mercy nor juſtice. A farmer was guillotined, becauſe ſome blades of corn appeared growing in one of his ponds; from which circumſtance it was inferred, he had thrown in a large quantity, in order to promote a ſcarcity—though it waſ ſubſtantially proved on his trial, that at the preceding harveſt the grain of an adjoining field had been got in during a high wind, and that in all probability ſome ſcattered ears which reached the water had produced what was deemed ſufficient teſtimony to convict him.— Another underwent the ſame puniſhment for purſuing his uſual courſe of tillage, and ſowing part of his ground with lucerne, inſtead of employing the whole for wheat; and every where theſe people became the objects of perſecution, both in their perſons and property. "Almoſt all our conſiderable farmers have been thrown into priſon; the conſequence is, that their capital is eat up, their ſtock gone to ruin, and our lands have loſt the almoſt incalculable effect of their induſtry. In La Vendee ſix million acres of land lie uncultivated, and five hundred thouſand oxen have been turned aſtray, without ſhelter and without an owner." Speech of Dubois Crance, Sept. 22, 1794.
—Amazed to find themſelves the objects of a tyranny they had hitherto contributed to ſupport, and ſharing the miſfortune of their Lords and Clergy, theſe ignorant and miſtaken people wander up and down with a vacant ſort of ruefulneſs, which ſeems to beſpeak that they are far from comprehending or being ſatiſfied with this new ſpecimen of republicaniſm.—It has been a fatality attending the French through the whole revolution, that the different claſſes have too readily facilitated the ſacrifice of each other; and the Nobility, the Clergy, the Merchant, and the Farmer, have the mortification of experiencing, that their ſelfiſh and illiberal policy has anſwered no purpoſe but to involve all in one common ruin.