CHAPTER LXXIII.
THE BLACK BROTH.
In a quarter of an hour they had reached the village. The same absence of all life struck painfully upon the emperor's heart as they walked along the deserted streets and heard nothing save the echo of their own footsteps. Not the lowing of a cow nor the bleating of a sheep, not one familiar rural sound broke the mournful stillness that brooded over the air. Occasionally a ghastly figure in tattered garments, from whose vacant eyes the light of reason seemed to have fled, was seen crouching at the door of a hut, wherein his wife and children were starving. This was the only token of life that greeted the eyes of the grave and silent pair.
"Lacy," at last sighed the emperor, "how fearful is this deadly silence! One might fancy that he walked in Pompeii; and Pompeii, alas, is not more lonely. To think that I, an emperor, must look on and give no help!"
"Oh, yes, sire, you can give help," said Lacy, encouragingly. "There must be some means by which this fearful famine can be arrested."
"I have ordered corn from Hungary, where the harvest has been abundant. To encourage the importation of grain in Bohemia, I have promised, besides good prices, a premium of one hundred guilders for each well-laden, four-horse wagon of grain that arrives before the expiration of three weeks."
"But the people will be exhausted before three weeks."
"I have also ordered the commissary store-houses to be opened in Prague, and the grain to be distributed."
"This will last but for a few days." returned Lacy, shaking his head.
"Then what can I do?" exclaimed the emperor, sorrowfully.
"The famine is so great that it can scarcely have arisen from natural causes. Where scarcity is, there will always be found the extortioner, who profits by it. Those who have grain are withholding it for higher prices."
"Woe to them, if I light upon their stores!" exclaimed Joseph, indignantly. "Woe to those who traffic in the fruits of the earth, which God has bestowed for the use of all men!"
"Your majesty will not find them. They will be carefully hidden away from your sight."
"I will seek until I find," replied the emperor. "But look there, Lacy, what a stately dwelling rears its proud head beyond that grove of trees! Is it the setting sun that gilds the windows just now?"
"No, your majesty, the light is from within. I suppose it is the castle of the nobleman, who owns the village."
They walked a few paces farther, when the emperor spoke again. "See, Lacy, here is a hut, from whose chimney I see smoke. Perhaps I shall find something to eat within."
He opened the door of the cottage, and there on the floor, in a heap, lay a woman with four children. Their hollow eyes were fixed without the slightest interest upon the strangers, for they were in the last stage of hunger-typhus, and saw nothing.
Lacy hurried the emperor away, saying, "Nothing can help these except death. I know this terrible fever. I saw it in Moravia in '62."
They stepped from the cottage to the kitchen. A fire was burning in the chimney, and before it stood a man who was stirring the contents of a pot.
"God be praised!" exclaimed the emperor, "here is food."
The man turned and showed a sunken, famished countenance.
"Do you want supper?" said he roughly. "I have a mess in my pot that an emperor might covet."
"He does covet it, my friend," said the emperor, laughing. "What have you there?"
The man threw sinister glances at the well-dressed strangers, who jarred the funeral air of his cottage with untimely mirth.
"Did you come here to mock me?" said he. "Fine folks, like you, are after no good in a poor man's cottage. If you come here to pasture upon our misery, go into the house, and there you will see a sight that will rejoice the rich man's heart."
"No, my friend," replied the emperor, soothingly, "we come to ask for a share of your supper."
The man broke out into a sardonic laugh. "My supper!" cried he. "Come, then, and see it. It is earth and water!"
"Earth and water!" cried the horror-stricken Joseph.
The peasant nodded. "Yes," said he, "the earth gives growth to the corn, and as I have got no corn, I am trying to see what it will do for me! I have already tasted grass. It is so green and fresh, and seems so sweet to our cattle, that we tried to eat the SWEET GREEN GRASS." And he smiled, but it was the smile of a demon.
"Oh, my God!" cried the emperor.
"But it seems," continued the man, as though speaking to himself, "that God loves cattle better than he does men; for the grass which strengthens them, made us so sick, so sick, that it would have been a mercy if we had all died. It seems that we cannot die, however, so now I am going to eat the glorious earth. Hurrah! My supper is ready."
He swung the kettle upon the table and poured the black mass into a platter.
"Now," said he, with a fiendish grin, "now will the great folks like to sup with me?"
"Yes," said the emperor, gravely, "I will taste of your supper."
He stepped to the table, and took the spoon which the bewildered peasant held out to him. Pale with excitement, the emperor put the spoon to his mouth, and tasted. Then he reached it to Lacy.
"Taste it, Lacy" said he. "Oh, to think that these are men who suffer the pangs of starvation!" And completely overcome by his sorrowing sympathy, the emperor's eyes overflowed with tears.
The peasant saw them and said, "Yes, my lord, we are men, but God has forsaken us. He has been more merciful to the cattle, for they have all died."
"But how came this fearful famine among you?" asked Lacy. "Did you not plant corn?"
"How could we plant corn when we had none? For two years our crops have failed, and hunger has eaten our vitals until there is not a man in the village who has the strength to raise a fagot."
"But I saw a castle as we came thither," said Lacy.
"Yes, you saw the castle of the Baron von Weifach. The whole country belongs to him; but we are free peasants. As long as we made any thing, we paid him our tithes. But we have nothing now."
And with a groan he sank down upon the wooden settle that stood behind him.
"The baron does nothing for you, then?"
"Why should he?" said the man, with a bitter laugh. "We pay no more tithes, and we are of no use to him. He prays every day for the famine to last, and God hears his prayers, for God forsakes the poor and loves the rich."
"But how does he profit by the famine?" asked Lacy.
"We have been profitable laborers to him, my lord. For several years past, his corn-fields have been weighed down with golden tassels that made the heart leap with joy at sight of their beauty. He had so much that his barns would not hold it, and he had to put up other great barns, thatched with straw, to shelter it. This year, it is true, he has reaped nothing, but what of that? His barns are still full to overflowing."
"But how comes there such famine, when his barns are full of corn?" asked the emperor, who was listening with intense interest.
"That is a question which does little honor to your head, sir," said the peasant, with a grating laugh. "The famine in Bohemia is terrible precisely because the extortioners hold back their grain and will not sell it."
"But there is a law against the hoarding of grain."
"Yes, there are laws made so that the poor may be punished by them and the rich protected," said the peasant, with a sinister look. "Oh, yes, there are laws! The rich have only to say that they have no corn, and there the law ends."
"And you think that the Baron von Weifach has grain?"
The peasant nodded. "I know it," said he, "and when the time comes, he will put it in the market."
"What time?"
"When the need of the people will be so great that they will part with their last acre of land or last handful of gold for a few bushels of grain. Several years ago, when corn was cheap, he sent his corn abroad to a country where the harvest had been short; but he will not do so this year, for the rich men have speculated so well that corn is dearer here than it is over the frontiers. [Footnote: Gross-Hoffinger, "Life and Reign of Joseph II.," vol. i., p. 138. Carl Ramshorn, "Life and Times of Joseph II.," p. 99.] But I have enough of your questions. Let me alone, and go about your business."
"Can you buy food with money?" asked the emperor, kindly.
"Yes, indeed, sir," said the peasant, while a ray of hope entered the dark prison of his desponding heart. "If I had money, the housekeeper of the baron would sell me bread, wheat, meat—oh, she would sell me any thing if I had money to pay for it."
"Take this, then," said the emperor, laying several gold pieces on the table. "I hope to bring you more permanent relief, later."
The peasant, with a cry, threw himself upon the gold. He paid no attention whatever to the donor. Shouting for joy at the same time that he was shedding tears in profusion, he darted, with his prize, to his starving wife and children, to bid them live until he brought them food.
Without, stood the emperor and Lacy. "O God!" murmured he to himself, "and I have thought myself a most unhappy man! What is the grief of the heart to such bodily torture as this! Come, Lacy, come. The day of reckoning is here, and, by the eternal God, I will punish the guilty!"
"What means your majesty?" asked Lacy, as the emperor, instead of returning to the village, strode forward toward the path that led to the castle.
"I mean to go at once to yonder castle," cried lie, with a threatening gesture, "and my hand shall fall heavily upon the extortioner who withholds his grain from the people."
"But your majesty," urged Lacy, "the word of one discontented peasant is not enough to convict a man. You must have proofs before you condemn him."
"True, Lacy, you are right. I must seek for proofs."
"How, your majesty?"
"By going to the castle. My plan is already laid. As they seem to be feasting to-day, I am likely to find a goodly assemblage of rich men together. I must get an invitation to the feast, and once there, if the charge be just, I promise to furnish the proofs."
"Your majesty's undertaking is not a safe one. I must, therefore, accompany you," said Lacy.
"No, Lacy, I intend that you shall meet me there. Return to the place where we left Rosenberg and the others, take one of the carriages, and drive with him to the castle. When you arrive there, ask for me, and say that you are now ready to proceed on our journey. Gunther can remain with the mountaineers, and if our provisions arrive from Prague, he can dispatch a courier to let us know it."
"Shall we ask for your majesty at the castle, sire?"
"Not by my own name. Ask for Baron von Josephi, for by that title I shall introduce myself. Now farewell, and au revoir."