The Unreliable Family

In 1834, Franz was still a tiny child, only four years old. Every day, he could do nothing but sit around bored in the royal nursery.

Evenings were the hardest, because his unreliable mother came to coax him to sleep. Sophie thought putting a child to bed was a mother's duty, and so Franz ended up unable to fall asleep.

The big rabbit was sick, the second rabbit looked in, the third rabbit bought medicine, the fourth rabbit boiled it, the fifth rabbit died, the sixth rabbit carried it, the seventh rabbit dug a hole, the eighth rabbit buried it, the ninth rabbit sat on the ground and began to cry. The tenth rabbit asked, "Why are you crying?" The ninth rabbit said, "The fifth rabbit left and never came back!"

The bizarre lyrics made your hair stand on end the more you thought about them. Yet this mother seemed not to care about her child's reaction at all. She kept singing to herself, occasionally yawning and wondering why the child still wasn't asleep.

It wasn't that Franz didn't want to sleep. The bizarre lyrics had lodged themselves in his mind and wouldn't go away; he was too frightened to sleep. This was, after all, one of the ten most terrifying nursery rhymes passed down in later generations. How had Sophie managed to choose this one?

In the end, Franz came up with a plan: he would tell a story to lull Sophie to sleep, then have a maid take her away.

Just as Franz let out a long breath, a man reeking of alcohol walked in. The smell was distinctive—not the scent of any one kind of liquor, but a mixture of many different kinds.

It was none other than Franz's unreliable father. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't quite like other people, so whenever he came to visit, he avoided everyone else.

Parents everywhere cared about their children in the same way, whether they were royalty or ordinary people.

And so Franz's father arrived with a jug of liquor.

Franz's father had only two hobbies: drinking and hunting. He believed liquor was the best thing in the world, because when you were drunk, you didn't feel tired or remember the things that made you unhappy.

Franz had never cried since birth, so his father thought he must be repressing his feelings. He was sure Franz needed to let them out. He also remembered his own father's words: "When you have something good, share it with your family."

So today, he had mixed together his ten favorite liquors and brought them to the nursery. He thought he'd share his favorite drink with his eldest son and help him grow up faster. After all, drinking alone wasn't any fun.

He poured Franz a glass, poured one for himself, then sat there grinning foolishly.

Franz was speechless. How had the original Franz survived to such an old age? He went to the door, opened it, and called a maid over to whisper a few words to her. Lady Morcia screamed. Soon, a large group of royal guards rushed in with a doctor, bundled up Franz's unreliable father, and carried him away.

Hofburg Palace, Hall of Mirrors.

Francis II was sitting on the throne, dozing. He liked this room; it made him feel as if he could relive the glory of the House of Habsburg.

The conversation from the day before at St. Stephen's Cathedral, the supposed "revelation," and those unreliable plans had all been tossed aside. Compared to such risky ventures, he preferred to enjoy the peace brought by the afternoon sun.

Francis II had never been a brave man. His younger brother had once pushed through sweeping military reforms, breathing new life into Austria's army while offending some vested interests.

He hadn't withstood the pressure and had dismissed Archduke Charles, the man Napoleon had called his "most formidable opponent." As a result, the military problems dating back to the previous century still plagued the Austrian Empire to this day.

Francis II knew perfectly well that Austria's influence at home and abroad was declining. But crushing debts and a tangled web of vested interests left every reform painfully hamstrung. Every time they pressed down one problem, another popped up.

And so he remembered again how he should have listened to his other younger brother, Archduke John, and carried out economic reforms by abolishing domestic tariffs, thereby curbing the powerful. At the time, Napoleon was invading, the local power brokers had been severely weakened, and the whole country was united—conditions were perfect for reform. But he hadn't accepted the proposal, either.

Then there was the recently established Zollverein. Austria should have joined it, too.

"This is a Prussian plot!"

"We have to do something. There can only be one giant in the German Confederation!"

"If Prussia takes control of the Zollverein, its development will become unstoppable!"

At the time, the entire hall had been a boiling cauldron, with ministers itching for a fight as if they wouldn't be satisfied until they came to blows.

Both Finance Minister Kolowrat and Prime Minister Metternich, as well as that presumptuous Baron Bruck, had gone to Francis II to lay out the pros and cons of joining the Zollverein, and had strongly urged the empire to join.

Being excluded from the Zollverein would greatly weaken Austria's influence. But the country's nobles opposed it—Prince Windisch-Graetz, Prince Esterhazy, and others. Francis II felt he couldn't ignore their voices. He had no choice but to—

No choice. Francis II gave a bitter, self-mocking smile. He felt less like an all-powerful monarch and more like an old widower led around by the nose by family troubles.

Today was the official founding of the Prussian-led Zollverein. A customs treaty lasting eight years would become the foundation for dismantling Austria's influence in the years to come.

At the palace gates, Prime Minister Metternich, Finance Minister Kolowrat, and Baron Bruck—three men with such opposing political views that they could hardly stand one another—had, for once, reached the same conclusion.

"Austria must join the Zollverein." The blunt Baron Bruck spoke first. He never liked beating around the bush and firmly believed that everything he did was for the country.

Finance Minister Kolowrat detested the man standing before him, because Baron Bruck was always going on about doing things for the country and for the people.

Kolowrat, by contrast, never tried to hide his greed for money and power.

He believed that anyone who refused to discuss self-interest was either a sanctimonious hypocrite or a vested interest in some field, using a smokescreen to protect his own gains. Such hypocrites were often more terrifying and more despicable than people who openly coveted wealth and power.

"Austria doesn't want to join the Zollverein. It wants to lead it. Prussia is unfit to lead the Zollverein! Germany is our dumping ground for goods and our source of raw materials. Austria doesn't even have a colony of its own. That's unacceptable! Germany will be our first colony."

When Kolowrat finished, he looked at Baron Bruck provocatively.

"You were thinking that, so I said it for you. I heard from the doctor that bottling things up is bad for your health. Don't mention it."

Kolowrat threw his head back in laughter and strode toward the palace gates.

Baron Bruck sneered at Kolowrat's behavior and said with disdain,

"Madman."

Then he, too, strode through the palace gates.