110. Let's March on Vienna!
In this situation, let's head to Vienna! France had the luxury of politically exploiting the famine, but other countries did not.
"Disband the Murder Parliament!" Britain was still struggling to contain the deaths from the Icelandic volcanic poison gas.
"What do the French research team say?"
"They're staying silent. It seems they've known the cause for a while, but they've classified the Icelandic volcano eruption info as security level 2 or higher, making analysis difficult."
"Those damn reporters are killing me. Bumping 23,000 up to 30,000."
A death or two could be buried, but 30,000—precisely 23,000—could not be covered up. Naturally, the parliament bore no responsibility for this natural disaster. Yet the 30,000—according to the papers—dead were powerful enough to paralyze the public's reason.
"We can't live like this!"
The biggest reason for these popular protests was none other than the price of bread.
"Three francs for a loaf of bread? Every penny I earn goes straight to food."
Bread prices were 1.8 times higher than before the Eden Treaty, and seven times the low point after it. British workers spent 60% of their income on food. After rent and essentials, they were basically living hand-to-mouth.
"They never praised us once when bread was cheap, but now that it's expensive, they want us to take the blame."
"That's politicians for you."
The British public blamed everything on the politicians, but that didn't make bread prices come down.
"Asking France directly is useless. Their spies are on another level—don't know how they train them. It'd be far easier to extract info from Denmark, where we share general research."
Thus, Britain needed some shocking good news to turn the tide. Something like steamship or steam engine breakthroughs, the full story of this incident, or colonial expansions—anything to make Britain shine. In other words, they needed to instill national pride in the British people as soon as possible.
"No choice. Pull back from France. Dig for info in Denmark first."
In an era where a newspaper's honor was a man's honor, they couldn't print rumors in the state papers. To find legitimate national good news, Britain infiltrated Denmark with spies.
In fact, Britain was in a relatively better position. Austria was a living hell.
"No gleaning?"
The bailiffs, colluding with separatist nobles, imposed harsh taxes and rules as if decreed by the central government.
"Gleanings are part of the farmer's income too. We'll tax those as well, so don't pick them up."
The separatist nobles spent all day scheming how to enrage the Austrians, grating on the people's nerves.
"Forcing us to buy 8kg of salt mandatory?"
The bailiffs' exploitation flowed into local lords' coffers under the guise of going to the central government.
"We can't live like this!"
These tactics were highly effective. Too effective. In January 1786, a village in Moravia rose in revolt. It began when a shoemaker, stripped of all his possessions by a bailiff, smashed the bailiff's head with his hammer.
The bailiff died, spilling goods and about 8,000 francs in cash. But the villagers grabbed the various goods first, not the money.
"This is yours."
"Thanks. That's your base. Taxing even that—those bastards."
The villagers systematically reclaimed their belongings from the bailiff's tax cart and fairly divided the surplus.
"The bailiff's dead? Hm. Already at that point?"
The local lord interpreted the revolt as anger at the central government. To better threaten it, he opened the nearby armory.
When the guards pretended to flee, the rebelling farmers sauntered in and raided it.
"Folks! Look at this!"
From the armory, the villagers got ten old muskets, one 2-pounder cannon, dozens of ancient crossbows, and about a hundred rusty longswords.
"Reminds me of when Dad taught me to fix crossbows."
"Sharpen the edges on a whetstone, and they might be usable?"
The village carpenter repaired the crossbows, the blacksmith sharpened the swords.
"This should do. Clear the road to Vienna."
The Moravian count thought a chain of revolts would erupt as they marched to Vienna. He was wrong.
"The lord's manor first!"
No matter how much they blamed the central government, the direct exploiters were always the local lords. Six months of exploitation paled against centuries of it.
"Suppress them! Crush the rioters! Kill them all!"
The lord, seeing the revolt, ordered a bloody suppression out of betrayal.
"Wait. I think I saw my mother in that crowd."
But the lord's private soldiers disobeyed.
"What are you doing? Fire!"
Even private soldiers were human. The rebels were their mothers, fathers, siblings, uncles, aunts, or grandfathers.
"We can't."
No one, no matter how loyal to the nobility, could shoot their own kin.
"Dirty lord!"
The demoralized soldiers opened the manor gates, and the Moravian count was lynched by the furious mob.
"Revolution in the next estate."
The rumor spread across Moravia, to Bohemia, Hungary, and beyond.
"Let's get ours too!"
Thus began the peasant revolts sweeping all of Austria. Enraged mobs persuaded kinsmen soldiers, assassinated lords, or laid fair sieges, toppling manors everywhere.
"Open the manor granaries!"
After capturing manors, they looted and shared the goods. Most nobles colluded with bailiffs, so granaries brimmed with grain and meat. There was so much, the rats in the lordly granaries were plumper than two-year-olds.
"Is it over? What now? If central troops come?"
After success, the rebels cooled their heads fast. Having risen impulsively, they hadn't planned ahead. All that remained were lordly corpses, full granaries, and the estates themselves.
"I... I don't know anymore. Let's just live like this. No more bailiffs or lords..."
Some remote, insular villages passively sat the lord's corpse in his office and pretended nothing happened.
"In this situation, let's head to Vienna!"
But most villages linked up and marched on Vienna.
"This is insane. No need to watch further."
France and other nations' intelligence agencies withdrew their spies to avoid the revolution.
"Where's our regimental commander?"
"The interior ministry's empty?"
The problem was the spies' status. Most were co-opted bureaucrats.
"Doing nothing until the capital's besieged! Colonel Felix!"
"He fled."
With frontline commanders and officials vanishing amid nationwide revolts, Austria did nothing until Vienna was surrounded.
"Interior! Military!"
As revolutionaries besieged Vienna, central nobles abandoned Austria and sought asylum in foreign embassies. Seeing the defense paralyzed, the rebels prepared to storm it.
"Shoot a musket like this."
Young ex-noble guards gave basic training to the revolutionary militia.
"Fire a cannon like this. Start with the 2-pounder."
After days of training, they fired grapeshot at the walls. A light barrage to give foolish Habsburg holdouts a chance to flee.
"The walls are crumbling! God protects the revolution!"
But the grapeshot, meant to rout defenders, collapsed an entire face of Vienna's walls. Thanks to Polish mercenaries salting gate hinges and loosening bricks for months—but the masses didn't need facts.
"In the Hundred Days' War, France's Metz survived thousands of 18-pounder shots. But look at rotten Vienna's walls! They collapse under mere 2-pounders! This is God's revelation! He wills the Habsburgs' end!"
The agitator's words spread from ear to ear, making this "revelation" another justification for the revolution.
"No one's here. Nothing left."
Joseph II could only watch the revolution from an empty council chamber.
"Filthy Habsburgs! Incestuous to the end, now forsaken by God!"
The revolutionaries stormed Schönbrunn Palace and arrested Joseph II, sitting alone.
"Austria is now a republic."