How to Destroy a Country
While the Polish mercenaries carried out their sabotage operations, the revolutionary government found itself trapped in a dilemma.
"If the mercenaries handle the fighting, the revolution will be a breeze. But won't we have to divide up the shares afterward?"
"Mercenaries take their pay and that's it. Why share the spoils with them?"
It was all because of the mercenaries.
"Then why offer them 100 francs per man?"
"That's only if it drags on for over a month. If we wrap it up quick, it's 300 francs. Three hundred francs!"
Those arguing against giving the mercenaries a share of the revolution cited the exorbitant fees as justification.
"We've already advanced each of them 10 francs as a down payment, haven't we? That's the average monthly wage for urban workers."
As they said, wages in European countries outside France were still stagnating at pre-economic crisis levels. This was partly because France was booming, but mainly because industrialization hadn't taken root anywhere else. France and Britain were undergoing full-scale industrialization, driving up workers' value, while in other nations, "workers" were little more than artisans in small workshops. While British workers churned out cotton textiles and steel in factories, and French workers built the factories to produce steel and cloth, laborers elsewhere were at best hammering iron in blacksmith guilds or kneading clay in pottery shops. By the time a British worker was producing steel like water, an Austrian blacksmith might spend three days smelting ore to yield a single scrap of the stuff. The sheer difference in productivity and scale meant wages had to diverge dramatically.
"We're paying them enough to undermine the revolution's legitimacy— even bringing up postwar shares reeks of bad faith."
And so the revolutionary government shelled out that much to the mercenaries. If it ended in a swift victory, it amounted to two and a half years' pay for an Austrian urban worker; even if it dragged on, it was still a full year's salary.
"If a revolution's so fragile that a bit of extra pay to mercenaries shakes it, why bother starting one?"
"It'll wobble, sure—but it won't topple."
There was only one reason the revolutionary government was pushing the revolution at such great cost.
"Everyone, calm down. Didn't we gather here to reflect the people's will, overthrow an incompetent monarch, and establish a republic in Austria?"
"The people's will? Ha, let's be honest. You just want independence."
It was all about power.
"A republic? Who among the Austrian people wants that? A single loaf of bread for today is more appealing than some grand republican ideal. And you 'revolutionary government' members here—you know damn well you're not cut out for a republic."
As the man said, the revolutionary government's members were all nobles from Bohemia, Dalmatia, Hungary, and the like—closer to an oligarchy than a republic.
"Let me recap why the mercenary issue even came up. Our original deal was: after the revolution, our regions go independent, Austria becomes a republic, and we divvy it up among ourselves. Then suddenly, mercenaries? That's what we're here to discuss."
That made the mercenary dilemma inevitable.
"Mercenaries take their pay and leave, so let's use them."
"That's exactly why we're pissed you hired them without consensus. Main force: nobles' private troops from each area. Cannon fodder: militias. That was the deal, right?"
There was one reason the revolutionary government was in such an uproar over the mercenaries.
The number of parties to share the spoils with had grown.
The separatist nobles' postwar shares were their own territories. The mercenaries had no claim. But if the mercenaries demanded a cut afterward, the nobles would have to cede some land or power.
"Hiring mercenaries was the nobles' prerogative. Mercenaries or private troops—doesn't matter, as long as it's armies from revolutionary government members."
Nobles from Bohemia and Moravia—regions a step removed from the Crusader-occupied zones—framed the mercenary issue as a territorial matter.
"If those mercenaries grab a seat at the table after the revolution, we're all screwed."
By contrast, nobles from Hungary, Dalmatia, and Croatia—closer to the Crusader zones—eyed the Polish mercenaries warily.
After running in parallel, they settled on a risky but classic strategy.
"Let's do the revolution first. Once it's done, we combine forces and deal with them. We'll have to take the Crusader zones eventually anyway."
Rabbit extermination after the dogs are spent.
With this uneasy agreement in place, the revolutionary government prepared groundwork to fully dismantle the Habsburgs—not just sabotage in Austria, but efforts to legitimize its collapse.
"First, we point out the Habsburg inbreeding."
"Isn't that a Spanish Habsburg problem?"
"Habsburgs are Habsburgs, aren't they?"
The revolutionary government spread rumors to drag the Habsburg prestige through the mud.
"Inbreeding? No wonder they have so many damn titles."
The agitation took hold easily. Hardscrabble commoners made it beer-talk in taverns; gossips devoured it as scandal fodder.
"Second, pin the Hundred Days' War on them."
"Wasn't that the mercenaries' fault?"
"You still don't get this world. Know what the biggest problem is? Any problem becomes a real problem if you make it one."
The revolutionary government rewrote history to hammer home Habsburg incompetence.
"In the Hundred Days' War, we had no choice but to move passively to defend the minor states of the Holy Roman Empire!"
Using Laudon's official battle records, they blamed the defeat squarely on Joseph II.
"Seventy thousand men just watching a garrison of less than ten thousand? It makes no sense! It's all because that prestige-obsessed Emperor Joseph II refused to give field generals autonomy to protect the imperial knights. Overreach? Then explain how 70,000 lose to 10,000!"
Once the Habsburg domains were fed this simple narrative—that the defeat stemmed not from complexities but sheer imperial incompetence—everyone bought in.
"Third, downplay this Crusader War."
"Wasn't it a success?"
"Exactly why we downplay it."
The revolutionary government began undermining the campaign's results through newspapers.
"Call it a grand 'Crusade' all you want—war is war. Last war's cost: about 300 million francs. Dead: 60,000. Some say the Papal 240 million covers it, leaving just 60 million in debt—but only a simple farmer would buy that. No free lunches. The Papacy will extract more than 240 million from us. In the end, we scattered billions of francs for a few unstable scraps of mountain and forest."
They belittled the aid, inflated war costs, and padded casualties with volunteers. This analytical agitation hooked half-educated intellectuals.
"Exactly. Wars are fought on credit."
A few elderly tenants, young priests, university students—cynical know-it-alls—latched onto this as confirmation of their war suspicions and spread it far and wide.
"Now for the main point."
Finally, the revolutionary government tossed out separatist messaging.
"A nation of non-Germans oppressed by Germans!"
In this era of faint nationalism, ethnic slogans didn't resonate with commoners.
"This incompetent, and they oppress us too?"
So the masses saw it not as nationalism, but class conflict between rulers and ruled. In truth, their misery stemmed from the revolutionary nobles' excessive taxes, corvées, and levies—but with lies piled so high, the truth had long dissolved.
"Time for the knockout blow."
The revolutionary government targeted food for the revolution's opening salvo.
"Bad harvest this year. Even France is doling out relief flour bit by bit. Just jack up bread prices."
The nobles cut deals with bourgeois to corner Austria's grain supply.
"Don't lower them. Lowering means losses. The higher, the better!"
The cold snap starting late 1783 froze winter wheat solid; what survived was washed away in spring floods. Yet the nobles and bourgeois hoarded relentlessly.
"Six francs for a loaf? You mad bastards—my monthly wage is 12 francs!"
The chaos, blending the talented and the deranged, turned Austria upside down.
"They're selling bread? Price doesn't matter—release the bread! Money? You think I have any?"
Desperate, the masses turned to looting.
"Now we hunker down. We can hold a few months. Once barley harvest passes, we get to work."
To protect property and families from looters, commoners abandoned livelihoods and barricaded indoors.
"What to sell for cash? Can't even buy French grain without money."
This social breakdown struck Austria fatally. With workers in hiding, overall production plummeted. The government tried buying French grain for relief but had no cash—workers weren't producing trade goods. No money meant no relief; no relief meant even honest folk hid, production fell further, and the vicious cycle deepened.
"So what's causing this famine?"
Emperor Joseph II turned from intractable issues to tackle the famine's root—
—but natural disasters were too vast for one emperor to conquer.