Although the Austrian Empire had narrowly escaped disaster, the German Confederation had not been so lucky. In this era, almost no country would spend money on something like a public health system.
Yet, at some point, the world had begun to grow frightening. Locusts from Africa crossed the Mediterranean and devoured Sicily.
Before Franz could even mourn the loss, reports came in that the locusts were heading north, as though hurrying to attend the Pope's coronation.
Wherever the hundreds of billions of Desert Locusts passed, they left almost nothing green behind. A whole field could be stripped bare within a few hours of a swarm descending on it.
There were no pesticides in those days. People could only resort to the most primitive methods: smashing the locusts with shovels or burning them. The results were less than ideal—or, more accurately, there were almost no results at all.
Since ancient times, whenever people faced a problem too difficult to overcome or solve, they had liked to pray to immortals and Buddhas. Europe was no exception.
A salute boomed from Castel Sant'Angelo. Pius IX decided to act in person. Amid the devout prayers of thousands of believers outside the castle, a procession of cardinals in red robes emerged, their faces solemn and grave.
A cardinal deacon began to chant the Pope's hymn of praise. At last, a man in white robes appeared. He wore a golden crown, and his taut, bitter-melon face seemed to be trying to look imposing.
But Pius IX was simply too short, and the enormous crown on his head made him look rather comical. Many people couldn't help laughing when they saw the new Pope, including the ambassadors of Austria, France, and Spain, despite their countries' current disputes with the Papal States.
Pius IX took this as a