Journal of the Plague Year

continued, by a Gentleman

Were I a beaſtlie Foreigner or a daſtardly Traitor, and thus more inclined to a moroſe peſsimiſtic Diſpoſition, I might begin to fear me that the cordial Effect of this Peſtilence, in weeding out the leſs patriotic Elements in our Nation and cleanſing the Air of poiſonous Exhalations from the Deſtitute, may yet be undermined by its unfortunate Conſequences for the generall Economy. I have this very Day received the bleakeſt Tidings from my Steward at the Potato-huſbandry at Filching, and alſo from the Honourable Euſtice Clarince Euſtice, the ſeventeenth natural Excreſcence of my Lord the late Marqueſs of Chancroid, who is honorary Beadle of the Pariſh where my Holdings in Beets and Aſparagus are at their mightieſt. What with the recent Deportations of ſubverſive foreign Labour and the inevitable Reconciliation of global Markets to meet our moſt reaſoned and Britannic Demands, there appeared hitherto every poſsible Anticipation of a moſt proſperous Harveſt, with greatly increaſed Profits and correſponding hopeful Proſpects for my Capabilities in the Service of Her Majeſty's Government. Alas, while one heſitates to defy Science and judge in advance of the Facts, it appeareth the Peaſantry at both Eſtabliſhments are a mere feckleſs idle Rabble, who have ſo far forgot their feudal Obligations as to die off in unſuſtainable Numbers without troubling to perform their Duties beforehand or breed ſufficient Diggers and Pickers to compenſate the Loſses. And the beaſtlie Foreigners have cunningly conſented to their Deportation juſt in time to avoid doing ſome actual Work inſtead of paſsing entire Days in fanatical Purſuit of the Nation's Downfall and ſpeaking of their barbarous alien Dialects. Where will it all end? The next Thing you know we ſhall become a net Importer of Slaves, and reſpectable Perſons will yet again be reluctantly compelled to foment racial Hatred againſt them in order to preſerve the Beauty of our ſocial Fabrick.