The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 187

Chapter 187: Panic and Countermeasures

"Dear, is everything nailed down?"

The voice of his wife startled Gaizka out of his thoughts. He hurriedly replied from under the eaves, "Oh, yes, it’s all done. We can lay the straw now."

His gaze flickered to the scar on his wife’s temple—a remnant of that hailstorm when a shard of broken wood from the roof grazed her. Fortunately, the wound wasn’t deep. She and the children had huddled under the dining table and narrowly escaped harm.

Madame Gaizka tied a large bundle of straw with a rope, watching as her husband hoisted it onto the roof and carefully spread it out bit by bit.

By midday, the Gaizka family's roof had mostly been restored.

Gaizka wiped the sweat from his brow as he stepped inside, just in time to see his wife emerge from the inner room, placing a chipped plate—now their most intact dish—on the table. She smiled and said, "You must be tired. Have something to eat."

Gaizka had a few spoonfuls of vegetable soup with bread, then pushed the plate aside. "Let’s save this for dinner. I’ll head to the fields to see if there’s anything left to salvage."

There were still over two weeks before the wheat harvest, but many green grains had already formed. Though scattered in the muddy aftermath of the hailstorm, some could still be collected.

He had to gather every grain he could! With this year's crop failure, the family's stored provisions would last only three months, and as a tenant farmer, he still owed rent to Viscount Corbert.

Gaizka sighed quietly, calculating how much he would need to borrow to buy seeds for the next planting and sustain his family until the autumn harvest.

He instinctively crossed himself and thought, Thank you, merciful Crown Prince, may God bless you and grant you a long life! If it weren’t for the Crown Prince helping him repay his previous debts, this year’s crop failure would surely have ruined his family.

As he stepped outside, he had only taken a few steps when he heard a child’s cry from the Geofroy household nearby. Amid the wailing, he faintly heard the word "hungry."

Madame Gaizka also heard it and followed him out. She exchanged a glance with her husband and said, "There’s still some cooked green wheat left from last night. Shall we...?"

Gaizka nodded.

Geofroy had fallen ill with tuberculosis earlier in the year, leaving his family destitute. After this disaster, their ruin was inevitable.

Taking the battered bowl his wife handed him, Gaizka saw that the cooked wheat was topped with a slice of black bread. He said nothing, only carried it to his neighbors.

Madame Geofroy took the bowl with trembling hands, thanking him profusely. Meanwhile, her three emaciated children couldn’t wait to grab the food and devour it.

Gaizka froze for a moment before managing, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No... no..." Madame Geofroy handed the now-empty bowl back to him, lowering her head as if to speak but stopping herself. "This food already helps a great deal."

She knew their neighbors were not wealthy enough to provide constant aid.

Under her table, there was still half a sack of broken wheat. Even if she rationed it carefully, it would last no more than half a month. As for livestock, they had butchered and eaten them all last year. In half a month, she would have no choice but to take her family to the city to beg.

Given her family’s situation, even loan sharks wouldn’t lend to them.

Gaizka sighed, about to turn and leave, when he saw Father Marmont from the parish walking in. The priest hastily said to Madame Geofroy, "God bless you! You’re eligible to apply for a ‘Bread Loan’ now."

The woman blinked in surprise, quickly bowed, and asked, "Reverend Father, what is a ‘Bread Loan’?"

"The King, in his compassion, has arranged for parish banks to lend to families like yours," Father Marmont explained. "You just need to go to the church and fill out an application. Starting next month, you’ll receive a loan of four livres per month, or an equivalent amount of grain. The interest rate is just six percent.

"Go quickly. I need to notify the Julian family next."

He took a few steps before turning back. "Oh, by the way, you’ll also need seeds for replanting, right?

"Remember to apply for the government’s seed aid. It’s only for potatoes, but they’re not bad—certainly better than starving. And there’s no interest. You just return what you borrow at the end of the year."

After Father Marmont and Gaizka left, Madame Geofroy’s eyes reddened. She knew that while four livres a month was meager, it would be enough to keep her family alive.

Taking a deep breath, she called her three children to kneel with her and, in a trembling voice, said, "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your compassion! Thank you, God! We are saved..."

Her children looked on in confusion as she stood, wiped her tears, and hurried toward the parish church.

Similar scenes were unfolding in rural France.

Thanks to Joseph's early preparations, while the devastating calamity struck as expected, the country avoided the hellish scenes recorded in history.

Had families like Geofroy's gone bankrupt, they would have flooded into cities to beg. Many would have become the backbone of the Great Revolution. Across France, there were over a million such families!

An influx of millions into cities would have sharply driven up bread prices, leaving urban residents unable to afford food. Historically, after the hailstorm, the price of bread in Paris doubled, directly triggering the Great Revolution.

...

The arrival of steam engines in rural areas, spearheaded by Joseph's initiative, prevented total crop failure in drought-stricken lands. Though only yielding green wheat, amounting to about thirty percent of the usual harvest, it was better than nothing.

Potato-growing provinces, particularly in the south, faced minimal impact from the hailstorm. The tubers, already near maturity, could simply be dug up for sustenance.

Moreover, the parish banks established under Joseph's initiative to finance steam engine purchases played an unexpected role during the disaster.

With the French Reserve Bank at its disposal, the government swiftly approved loans for parish banks, which then distributed funds to impoverished farmers, ensuring they wouldn’t starve.

Such large-scale disaster relief, unheard of in the eighteenth century, was surprisingly cost-effective. Allocating four million livres monthly until the autumn harvest required a total of 12 to 14 million livres—securing national stability in exchange.

Chaos, for any nation, was an unsustainable drain—not just financially but also on its core institutions, development prospects, and citizens' trust. Such damage often took decades to repair.

Historically, after the Great Revolution’s chaos, France needed over ten years to regain its footing, largely thanks to Napoleon's exceptional leadership. Without him, recovery might have taken much longer.

Joseph also viewed disaster relief as a means to accelerate paper currency adoption. Starting next month, the French Reserve Bank would issue paper money, and parish bank loans would be disbursed exclusively in this form.

To ease rural concerns, silver coins equivalent to two months of the paper currency would initially circulate. Once trust in the new currency stabilized, silver coin distribution would taper off.

The initial issuance of fifty million livres in paper money, with a planned overissue of five percent, required 47.5 million livres in reserve. This manageable inflation rate was expected to stimulate economic growth.

For disaster relief alone, issuing 200 million livres in paper currency, covered by the overissued portion, was feasible.

Still, Joseph understood the critical importance of stable currency value. Uncontrolled inflation would backfire, especially during the nascent stage of paper money. The success of British pound notes lay in their stable value, which gradually earned trust across Europe.

During this transitional era from metallic to paper currency, the gold standard was the most suitable monetary policy, restricting excessive issuance.

...

In Paris, the desperation gripping rural farmers seemed worlds away. The drought and hailstorm’s impact manifested primarily in repairing damaged buildings and infrastructure—and in bread prices.

As news of crop failures trickled into Paris, bread prices rose sharply, despite no actual grain shortage.

Bread prices in Paris were always a top priority for the French Cabinet. Any discontent among Parisians over bread often led to riots.

At Versailles...

“So, many nobles oppose these provisions?”

Joseph, reviewing the Milling Duty Obligations Act, looked up at Bishop Brienne.

The Minister of Finance nodded reluctantly. “As you know, milling taxes are a major source of income for them. Even though the act merely outlines hypothetical scenarios, they are vehemently opposed.”

Submitted by Joseph last month, the act remained stalled.

Its key provision mandated that mill owners ensure their mills operated normally. If a mill remained out of service for two consecutive months, the parish could establish a public mill.

Throughout Europe, milling rights were still controlled by feudal lords. Even if peasants owned wheat, they had to pay taxes to use a feudal lord’s mill to grind it into flour for bread.

Joseph contemplated briefly before amending the document’s title to the Milling Rights Act.

“Let’s detail traditional milling rights first and place the obligations at the end, covering only half a page. That should eliminate objections.”

Milling rights, rooted in medieval customs, lacked formal codification but were universally enforced—even by courts. By formalizing these rights, Joseph gave the appearance of reinforcing noble privileges while subtly adding practical obligations.

Bishop Brienne smiled. “Your Highness, I believe this will have them eager to pass the act quickly.”

As they spoke, a finance officer entered, saluted hurriedly, and reported, “Your Highness, Archbishop, news just arrived from Paris. Bread prices have risen to 4 livres, 8 sous, and 7 deniers.”

Bishop Brienne’s expression darkened. “A seven-denier increase in just two days?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Those scoundrels!” Brienne stood abruptly. “Order an immediate investigation of all bakeries. Any hoarding or covert price hikes—arrest them on the spot!”

Paris’s strict bread price controls allowed no exceptions. Even a single-denier increase could land a bakery owner in jail.

Joseph frowned slightly. “Bishop Brienne, despite the government’s daily price control measures and police surveillance, why are prices still rising?”

“You might not be aware,” Brienne sighed. “Many bakers comply openly but secretly raise prices in other ways.

“For instance, they limit daily sales to forty pounds of bread at the regulated price, then claim they’re sold out. Anyone wanting bread must pay a ‘negotiation fee’ in the back kitchen.

“Or they bundle sales, smearing a tiny amount of jam on bread and calling it jam bread, justifying a higher price.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow. “In that case, more inspections won’t help.

“Instead, let’s counter the trend with reserve grain to stabilize prices while the increase is still mild.”

Brienne shook his head. “Your Highness, there’s still plenty of grain on the market. It’s unnecessary for now.

“Those profiteers are hoarding grain, anticipating higher prices. Most of the grain we release will end up in their hands.”

Joseph smiled confidently.

“Bishop Brienne, have you forgotten? We now have a ‘weapon’ called the identity card.”

“Identity card?”

“Yes. Establish grain coupon distribution points across Paris. Citizens can collect a coupon daily using their identity cards.

“Reserve grain sales will require these coupons, with each coupon allowing the purchase of two pounds of bread grain per day—non-transferable and valid for that day only.

“Grain merchants only have one identity card each, making it impossible for them to hoard reserves.”

Brienne, initially unfamiliar with the identity card’s utility, now lit up with realization. “So that’s why you insisted on numbering every card—brilliant!”

Summoning his subordinates, Brienne relayed Joseph’s plan and ordered its immediate implementation.

Joseph added, “The price surge is driven primarily by fear. We must divert public attention away from grain concerns as much as possible.”

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