For example, they couldn’t freely leave their land, they had to undertake numerous tasks for the feudal lord, and even disputes could be adjudicated by the feudal lord—if the feudal lord lived nearby.
Therefore, these tenant farmers usually wouldn’t go against the wishes of the landlord. The Old Nobility’s boycott of potatoes also led to a large number of tribute farmers being unable to plant potatoes.
Joseph chatted with the farmer for a while and gained a general understanding of the household’s living conditions.
The farmer was named Geiszler, who farmed 27 acres of Viscount Colbert’s land, with an annual grain income of around 200 livres.
However, after paying the rent to Colbert, this family still had to pay the Poll Tax, Military Service Tax, the Tithe, the Vingtième, and the Road Labor Tax, among a long list of other taxes.
In daily life, they also had to pay the mill tax, press tax, salt tax, goods tax, and tolls, among others.
What was left was barely enough for the family to eat black bread every day.
As for savings, Geiszler said that in recent years droughts had been frequent, leading to poor harvests, and the family had already gone into debt for nearly 50 livres.
Since Geiszler was relatively strong, his family was still considered to be better off in the village. According to him, one-fifth of the village couldn’t manage to eat their fill at every meal.
Joseph sighed in his heart; tenant farmers like Geiszler numbered over twenty million in France, and in the face of severe natural disasters, they had almost no ability to resist. When the time came, they would undoubtedly join the ranks of the rioters without hesitation to prevent themselves and their families from starving.
He sighed, knowing that whether it was France’s enormous debt or the livelihood of the lower-class farmers, a lot of difficult reforms would need to be made to solve these problems, such as promoting industrial development, adjusting land distribution, weakening the feudal privileges of the aristocracy and the Church…
As he was pondering, he walked to the window and saw from the corner of his eye that Lady Geiszler in the other room had carefully collected the leftovers from their meal. Half a bowl of vegetable soup that Eman hadn’t finished was poured into a pot, water and a few leaves were added, turning it into a large pot of soup.
Another piece of preserved meat, the size of a walnut, was carefully sliced into almost transparent thin slices and tucked into black bread.
Two children, about eight or nine years old, looked on with longing as their mother busied herself, occasionally wiping their mouths as if they were gazing upon the most delicious delicacies in the world.
Joseph felt a pang of sorrow; in Paris, he saw nothing but the power struggles of the elite, the decadent lives of the noble ladies, and the endless balls and salons of the aristocracy. Yet, it was only today, at the Geiszler’s home, that he truly saw the real face of France.
Poverty, decay, conservatism, teetering on the brink…
Just then, a knock came from behind.
Geiszler hurried to open the door and let in a small man in a grey overcoat, respectfully saying, “Mr. Babo, what brings you here?”
The man named Babo nodded at him and went straight to Eman, bowing humbly, “My lord, I am the stadtholder here; you can just call me Babo. May I ask where you are from?”
The title of stadtholder sounds impressive but is actually an official in charge of managing the lower parish—that is, the village—equivalent to the village head.
As Babo was speaking, the priest of the parish, having heard that someone of importance with many attendants had come to the village, also hurried to Geiszler’s house.
“My lord, is there anything I can do for you?” Babo, taking Eman to be the core of the group, asked with a smile covering his face.
Eman, seeing from the doorway the priest had come through that the rain outside had stopped, pointed in the direction of the road that had been damaged by the rain: “Mr. Babo, the road outside the village has been spoiled by rain; could you trouble your people to fix it?”
“Oh, of course, of course, we can.”
Babo nodded repeatedly and then turned to the priest: “Father Marmont, please entertain the distinguished guests; I will go and lead the people to fix the road.”
He walked a few steps and then turned back to signal to Geiszler: “Did you hear that? They’re going to fix the road; you come too.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Babo.”
Geiszler responded and went to get his coat hanging on the wall.
Joseph casually asked, “Mr. Geiszler, for work like repairing the roads, how much do you get paid?”
“Wages?” Babo immediately replied eagerly, “My lord, it’s just fixing a road; there is no payment.”
“Oh?” Joseph frowned slightly, “Is the road outside the village also owned by Viscount Colbert?”
Babo shook his head, “That’s not it.”
“Then has Mr. Geiszler paid the road labor tax?”
Babo was taken aback, nodded, and said, “Yes, paid.”
“Since the road labor tax has been paid and it’s not the lord’s labor, why not pay him for the road work?”
“This…”
Joseph smiled at him and said, “Mr. Babo wouldn’t be unfamiliar with the law, would he?”
Babo startled, as an official in France, you could be incompetent, but you absolutely could not be unfamiliar with laws and regulations, for that could cost you your job!
He hurriedly shook his head, “No, no, you are quite right, he should indeed be paid. Ah, 2 sous per person, do you think that would do?”
“You just follow the regulations.”
“Oh, right, right. Follow the regulations.”
Geiszler bowed deeply to Joseph in gratitude and then hurriedly followed the stadtholder out.
Three hours later, Joseph’s entourage continued along the road that was now paved with branches and gravel, heading back towards Bordeaux.
Geiszler and his wife stood by the side of the road, watching until the last of the cavalry escort had disappeared before returning home.
Lady Geiszler prepared to cut some dark bread for her husband, who had been busy half the day, to stave off hunger, only to suddenly discover a small cloth bag on the stove.
She hesitated, then carefully opened the cloth bag and immediately cried out, “Lord Almighty! Adam! Come and see!”
Geiszler hurried into the room and saw his wife holding a cloth bag and a large handful of silver coins.
He took the bag and found a note inside, he unfolded it and read: Mr. Geiszler, thank you for showing me another side of France. Please do not refuse this token of my appreciation.
He looked in the direction where Joseph had left, made the sign of the cross over his chest, and murmured, “May God bless you, kind young master.”
Lady Geiszler quietly counted the silver coins, a total of 50 livres. She excitedly grabbed her husband and jumped for joy, tears in her eyes, “Adam, we have enough to pay off our debts!”
You see, the interest on the debt they had taken was as high as 15%; if they could not pay it back quickly, with the state of their home, they would likely never be able to settle it…
Eight days later.
On the avenue north of the Bordeaux Exchange Palace, a large crowd gathered on both sides of the road, eagerly awaiting the passage of His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.
Soon, several elegant and luxuriously made carriages approached from afar, and the people immediately burst into cheers, waving their arms vigorously.
In one of the middle carriages, the Governor of Bordeaux, Count Montsorro, respectfully said to Joseph, “Your Highness, most of them arrived last night, and indeed, you could convene a meeting anytime you really need to. However, the banquet is ready, or perhaps you could first…”
Joseph nodded with a smile, “You have worked hard, Count Montsorro.”
He looked at his pocket watch, which showed it was one-thirty in the afternoon, and then said, “Let’s start at three then.”
“As you wish, your esteemed Highness.”
The carriages passed through the crowd, and Joseph occasionally waved in acknowledgement to the citizens who welcomed him. Meanwhile, the people arranged by Eman in the carriage behind followed tradition, scattering coins and sweets among the crowd.
The heart of Bordeaux, Exchange Square, had been taken over by Kesode and his guards. Joseph didn’t even go to the villa that Montsorro had prepared for him to rest, but headed straight to the Exchange Palace, ready for the three o’clock meeting.
The potatoes would be arriving soon, and he did not want to waste a minute.