In the Szent-Endre and the adjoining Izbegh vineyards the vintage was in
full swing. It was an excellent harvest, the wine promised to be
unusually good, and all the vineyards were filled with joyous labourers.
But from the vineyards the new wine was conveyed away by one road only,
in great casks, while heydukes, armed with pikes and muskets, guarded
the route. For all that grows in the vineyard must first pay the
requisite tithes.
At the entrance of the one open road four huts were erected, and before
each stood a huge vat. The first belonged to the Bishop of the diocese.
As the cart, laden with the casks of "must," or new wine, passes, the
episcopal steward takes out his tithe. Then the cart proceeds to the
second hut, where the court chamberlain deducts his share. Thence it
arrives in front of the two huts which, facing each other, bound the
narrow road, so none may pass unchallenged. No matter whether the owner
is hailed in German or Magyar, the sacristan of the parish acting for
the Catholic priest, appropriates his own tithe from the cask, or if he
speaks Rascian, it is for the Greek "pope," he takes his share.
Only then can the convoy proceed. Yes, indeed, so it might, if there
were not a fifth hut in the way, where two heydukes seize the horses'
bridles, and on right and left the owner is hailed by officials who want
to know why he has broken the "portion" rule. (For thus in their
simplicity have the peasants abbreviated the word "proportion.")
Such is the method in which the taxes are extorted.
Whoever is in a position to do it, holds himself in readiness to
compound for the "Haracs," as it was called in Hungary, from a Turkish
word, by opening his purse and paying up the arrears of the tithe in
groschen, which settled the matter, for to pay the tax in silver was
illegal. Consequently, on the table of the fifth hut fell many a
well-stuffed bag of copper coins, which the officials had squeezed out
of the vintagers. There were, however, many who were not well enough
provided with small change to satisfy this crowd of creditors, and so
had to pay up the arrears in kind. That is why the great vats stand
there in the road.
But the "red Jew" carries his casks into the small Slovak carts that
take it down to the Danube, and ships it to Vienna, and pays, too, his
tax of two Rhenish gulden for his wine.
It can well be imagined how to the overtaxed peasant wine-grower who
has run out of money, this same "red Jew" is a friend in need, quite
ready to help him out of his difficulty, for he will pay for his wine at
the rate of two gulden a kilderkin. But this did not happen in
well-regulated communities. Only the municipality had the privilege of
selling wine, and to it the citizen only dare retail his vintage. And
the price which he received for it was fixed by the law at one gulden.
So the wine-grower pours likewise into the great vat his "deputy-tax,"
wherein he reckons a gulden for a kilderkin, and the "red Jew" draws it
out again at two gulden a kilderkin.
Thus it befalls that the owner of the vineyard brings the bottles which
he has brought with him empty to the vineyard, empty home again. And yet
that is called a first-rate vintage! But it was hard for the good man
himself to esteem it so, and no wonder he was doubtful!
And thus the vintage went on till nightfall. Then the gates of the
vineyards were shut, and the judicial vintagers paused in their work,
yet not to betake themselves to rest, but to carry on further business
within doors.
The judge and his deputy, the notary and the jurymen, all conferred
together, the notary being auditor and controller in one, whereby it may
be gathered that he was a very clever fellow.
The Jew Abraham was likewise called into the council, in order to assist
in the money-changing.
For at that epoch all kinds of money were current in the country, which
only came into evidence as they passed in daily exchange. To dispose of
them was not easy, so the Jew was bidden to give proper money in
exchange for them. When he got back to Vienna he could in his turn get
rid of it.
During the money-reckoning transaction, Abraham appeared with the
accounts giving the amount of money taken over, the price of the wine,
and the bad money left behind.
"Can't you buy this bad money too, father Abraham?" queried the notary.
"No indeed, my lord, for if I change false money they will lock me up,
but you will quietly put it away in the cash-box, and pay out with it,
your servants' wages, your heydukes, messengers, and foresters. In due
time, these coins will again be in circulation at the tradesman's stall,
or the inn, and the public will be fingering it once more for fees and
fines, and so the bad money comes round again, just as the sun goes
round the earth, for it is not by any means lost."
Everyone laughed at the Jew's explanation.
Then Abraham stated how much he would give in gold for the small change
he had taken, and the business was settled without further ado.
"But now, Mr. notary," proceeded the Jew, "just make me out a receipt to
attest that I have changed the money, and that we are quits, but write
it in Latin, not Rascian."
"All right, Rothesel."
"Also, I would ask you not to write my name 'Rothesel,' but 'Rotheisel,'
with an 'i' if it is just as easy to you."
"But everybody calls you 'Rothesel'?"
"You may call me what you like, but in writing at any rate, I am
'Rotheisel.' I had this favour granted me in Vienna, from the Kaiser
himself--that I might write it with an 'i.'"
"And a nice round sum that very 'i' cost you in Vienna, Abraham, or I'm
much mistaken! Confess frankly, it did!"
"Pray why should I confess anything about it? What does it matter
whether this 'i' cost me but a single heller, or a hundred thousand
gulden--you, not I, pay them, after all is said."
When the Jew had gone, the notary packed up the ducats in stacks, and
placed them beside him round the inkstand, while the president began:
"Well, now the outsiders are off home, only the privileged councillors
and the members of the council remain, in order to be present at the
opening of the great coffer."
Now it is not permitted to every official to glance at the contents of
the mysterious coffer. As the privy council alone remained, the notary
fetched out from the cupboard, as many night-caps as there were men, and
each one drew the covering thus provided over his head, so that only the
tip of his nose was visible. This was done so that none might see where
he was going. When all were thus blindfolded, the notary alone
excepted, the latter took a light from the table, and gave the end of
his stick into the judge's hand; the judge in his turn reaching the end
of his to the juryman behind him, and so on, till the chain of
blindfolded men were ready to start. Where? Ah, that was the notary's
secret, for he it was who directed their progress.
"Now there come steps," he cried, "one, two, three," and so on, till he
had counted ten. Then a key creaked in an iron lock. "Stoop down so you
don't hurt your heads," came the word of command, and they passed
through a low door. "Here we are," cried their leader, "now you can
look."
The jurymen had often been in this place before. It was a low-pitched
cellar, with a massive, vaulted arched roof, and in a corner of it,
there stood an iron coffer made fast to the wall.
Beside this iron chest stood a Rascian "pope," whose hand they could
reverentially kiss if they wished. How he came there no one knew.
The "pope" produced a large, curiously wrought key, and the notary a
second one like it.
"These are the keys, open it who can!"
Three or four times some jurymen made the attempt, yet without success;
in vain did the keys press right and left in the wards, but it opened
not.
"We are wasting time," cried the "pope." "Do you try, Mr. notary, you
understand it."
Whereupon the notary turned the keys, and the coffer was opened.
Everyone wanted to see inside.
There were nothing but ducats there: ducats, indeed, by hundreds, in
fine transparent bladder bags, through which the yellow metal gleamed
seductively. The sacks stood as in battle array, like so many soldiers
close to each other. There must be a fabulous lot of gold there! Now
another row was to be added to it. Then from a side compartment of the
chest, a small book was fetched out wherein the notary entered all kinds
of accounts. And strange entries might those be, judging from the
frequent exclamations of the jurymen, which showed that the budget he
examined was a notable one.
"Tut, tut," cried the notary interrupting, "you don't want it published
to all the world."
"But if it has to be, eh?"
After which, certain accounts were duly registered in the little book,
and the great coffer was again closed. Then the "pope" spoke.
"I see well enough that you have again husbanded your funds carefully,
and that the money has increased, but where does the blessing of Heaven
come in? You never give a thought to the Church! You promised to buy a
new church bell, to gild the church roof, and to build a house for the
parish priest. There's no money for all these things, but the coffer
gets fuller and fuller."
"Make yourself easy, your reverence," answered the notary, "all that may
come next year, if we are spared. For that the small cash-box will
suffice."
"So you think it will, do you? What has ruined the hospital? The poor
sick folk nearly perish of hunger in summer, and are nigh frozen in
winter, whilst you carry off the timber by cart-loads as presents to
Pesth, and then think of the amount of smoked sturgeon and caviare and
wine you send thither, and all for the magnates, but nothing for the
sick and needy!"
"Let it be, your reverence, there's nothing so advantageous for the sick
as fresh air, and nothing so harmful as overloading their stomachs. But
it's far better that we should give firing for the magnates, than that
they should make it hot for us!"
"And the poor-house which our revered Queen, Maria Theresa, endowed, is
it not still empty? What are we about that we do not find inmates for
it? But you find none."
"The devil we do! Don't the blind and the lame stand each Sunday before
the church door, but if we want to befriend them, we've only to say:
'Come you, poor wretches, we'll show you the way into the poor-house,'
and off they run in a fright, so great a horror have they of the bread
of the State."
"You children of the devil! And what of the poor Izbeghers whose forty
houses were burned down? The Emperor allowed them as much from the
treasury as the worth of the houses amounted to, but you raised the
rents of the remaining houses and then dunned them for the money."
"That's natural enough, seeing the Emperor let the State annex the
burned part in order to pay so much the less to the ground-landlord. If
Peter has nothing, then pay Paul, that is the rule."
"A godless rule too! Amend your ways, I say, for if next year as many
complaints reach my ear as have this, I'll denounce your coffer to the
Treasury."
These words only provoked laughter.
"Your reverence is not such a bad sort," ventured the judge in a
conciliatory tone.
Thereupon, the keys were withdrawn, the night-caps again donned, and the
notary led his blind men again to the ground-floor of the council
chamber, where they congratulated one another on the risks run.
"Only yon priest should not have it all his own way with his
maledictions," grumbled the judge. "But they are all like that. Each one
of them thinks that hardly earned money should be wasted on churches and
hospitals."
"I also think, my lord, that it would be better that such an
unreasonably big sum of money should be divided to each one as he has
need," suggested a juryman bolder than the rest.
The speaker might, from the assenting murmur which greeted his speech,
take it for granted that he had a good many on his side, but the
eloquence of the notary soon crushed such sympathy.
"Ay, my dear friend, that would kill the goose which lays the golden
eggs. This coffer is our pledge of power, our shield of protection, our
bond of union. As long as it exists are we rulers in this city and in
all its dependencies. As long as this coffer answers for us, so long can
we get the laws made in our favour. As long as we have our money, they
won't take our sons for military service, or ask us for accounts, and if
a meadow or a plot of land is to be divided, we look after the
allotment. It is we who direct public works. It is we who fell the
timber in the forest, who cast the net into the Danube, and limit the
vintage; we buy and sell; and fix the tithes. As long as the key of that
coffer is in our hands, we must needs be great powers in the city, like
Kaiser Joseph in his palace at Vienna. At the end of that key we whistle
a tune to which all men must dance."
"Quite right, quite right!" shouted the whole assembly.
And who could contradict them?