the miseries which it sets down in writing. -- All these appeals
and all these acts are so many strokes, which reverberate, in the
popular imagination. "It is the desire of His Majesty," says the
order issued, "that every one, from the extremities of his kingdom,
and from the most obscure of its hamlets, should be certain of his
wishes and protests reaching him." Thus, it is all quite true: there
can be no mistake about it, the thing is sure. The people are
invited to speak out, they are summoned, and they are consulted.
There is a disposition to relieve them; henceforth their misery
shall be less; better times are coming. This is all they know about
it. A few month after, in July,[13] the only answer a peasant girl
can make to Arthur Young is, "something was to be done by some great
folks for such poor ones, but she did not know who nor how." The
thing is too complicated, beyond the reach of a stupefied and
mechanical brain. - One idea alone emerges, the hope of immediate
relief. The persuasion that one is entitled to it, the resolution
to aid it with every possible means. Consequently, an anxious
waiting, a ready fervor, a tension of the will simply due to the
waiting for the opportunity to let go and take off like a
irresistible arrow towards the unknown end which will reveal itself
all of a sudden. Hunger is to mark this sudden target out for them.

The market must be supplied with wheat; the farmers and land-owners
must bring it; wholesale buyers, whether the Government or
individuals, must not be allowed to send it elsewhere. The wheat
must be sold at a low price; the price must be cut down and fixed,
so that the baker can sell bread at two sous the pound. Grain,
flour, wine, salt, and provisions must pay no more duties.
Seignorial dues and claims, ecclesiastical tithes, and royal or
municipal taxes must no longer exist. On the strength of this idea