For the Glory of the Nobility

The objective was achieved, and the two continued their casual conversation as if nothing had just occurred. In reality, Franz had already dropped a hint; he accepted this favor from Archduke Louis.

Debts of favor are difficult to repay, but for Franz, sometimes owing a few more favors was not necessarily a bad thing.

For instance, he had now established a connection with this leader of the conservative faction, and they could be considered "one of our own."

Otherwise, why would Franz have come to find him and let him grant this favor? Was there truly no other way for the Imperial Crown Prince to enter the Imperial Guard?

Obviously, that was not the case. As long as Franz wished, he could intervene even without an official position. The Imperial Guard served only the Imperial family; their primary loyalty was to the Emperor, and the Crown Prince was the second object of that loyalty.

"Uncle Louis, the situation in the country hasn't been very peaceful lately, has it?" Franz asked, feigning curiosity.

"Hmph, it's all because our Prime Minister is shouting for reform every single day. Now, a bunch of capitalists have transformed themselves into 'reformers,' using the banner of patriotism to seek their own profit. Our Prime Minister pretends not to see it, keeping his eyes fixed on us nobles every day, as if we were the malignant tumor hindering Austria's progress!" Archduke Louis said with dissatisfaction.

Did Prime Minister Metternich ignore the bourgeoisie? Then what were the secret police for? They certainly weren't there to arrest the nobility.

As the representative of the noble class, Prime Minister Metternich was, in almost every respect, a defender of noble interests, save for the issue of abolishing serfdom, which had harmed everyone's interests.

Of course, these thoughts were best kept to oneself. Franz would absolutely never say them aloud. The man before him was the leader of the Austrian conservative faction; to speak such things in front of him would be to invite hostility.

"Uncle Louis, since the capitalists can use the name of patriotism to fly the banner of reform, we nobles can just as easily raise the banner of reform ourselves!" Franz smiled.

This was a good habit Franz had developed; for some reason, ever since he had transmigrated, he enjoyed digging pits for others to fall into.

"Oh? Franz, you aren't joking, are you?" Archduke Louis asked, unable to believe his ears.

The noble class raising the banner of reform? Wasn't that absurd? One had to realize that current reforms were all about cutting into the flesh of the nobility. For them to cut their own flesh—was that even possible?

Franz explained, "Of course, Uncle Louis, I am not a man who enjoys joking! The capitalists can propose reform plans; why can't we nobles propose our own?"

Archduke Louis fell into deep thought. That the Austrian Empire must undergo reform was a consensus, but such reforms could not harm their interests—this was the very reason the conservatives opposed them.

In his view, Franz's proposal was to have the nobility take the initiative and seize the power of reform for themselves.

He did not suspect Franz of having ill intentions, for the bourgeoisie were also enemies of the Imperial family. If the capitalists led the reforms, the first thing they would do was strip the Emperor of his power.

And that was only the moderates. If it were the radical bourgeoisie, they would be looking to play at republicanism. One only had to look at the examples of Charles I and Louis XVI to see that no emperor could ever have a favorable view of them.

Franz, as the Crown Prince, was naturally no exception; one's position is determined by where one sits. The fact that Franz kept emphasizing "we" during their conversation was determined by their class; the Imperial family and the nobility stood together by nature.

"Franz, do you have a plan? Could you explain it in detail?" Archduke Louis asked with concern.

He no longer dared to underestimate Franz. From their interaction just now, it was clear that this was a little fox, and he played the game of politics with great fluidity.

"Uncle Louis, have you noticed that when the bourgeoisie demands the emancipation of the serfs, the banners they fly are 'freedom' and 'equality'?" Franz asked.

"Of course. Those people shout it every day. Besides that, they have also put forward a whole heap of unreasonable demands like constitutional reform, national autonomy, and so on. In essence, it is all for their own benefit. Their factories lack cheap labor, so they want to abolish serfdom. In reality, they are all a bunch of bloodsuckers. You should know that the lives of most workers are not even as good as those of the serfs. At the very least, we provide our serfs with food, clothing, and shelter, and we support them when they grow old. But those evil capitalists have no such kindness. Once someone becomes their worker, those who can survive for ten years are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Once they get old, they are kicked out to fend for themselves. After working their whole lives for them, they end up on the streets. May God punish these bloodsuckers!" Archduke Louis denounced them angrily.

One had to admit that Archduke Louis was speaking a part of the truth. The capitalists of this era were truly dark, and it was no lie that the lives of most workers were inferior to those of the serfs.

This could be judged by life expectancy alone; the average life expectancy in cities was three to five years lower than in rural areas, which showed just how cruel the capitalists were.

Once an ordinary worker entered a factory, they were essentially spent within a dozen years, and the vast majority did not live to see forty.

However, most nobles were not exactly saints either. Everyone was a bloodsucker; no one was more noble than the next.

"Uncle Louis, I am aware of these conditions. Since the capitalists can use the guise of fighting for the rights of the serfs to demand the abolition of serfdom, why can't we use the banner of seeking welfare for the working class to limit the growth and expansion of the bourgeoisie?" Franz said with a cold smile.

Speak to people in the language of people, and to ghosts in the language of ghosts.

Franz was currently playing the role of the feudal noble to perfection, his expression suggesting he would tear the bourgeoisie to pieces if he could.

"Seeking welfare for the working class? I'm afraid that won't work. Many of us nobles also own workshops; improving the treatment of workers would harm the interests of quite a few people!" Archduke Louis said, hesitant and indecisive.

Seeing the expression on Archduke Louis's face, Franz knew that history's assessment of him was correct—indecisive. However, it was precisely such people who were the easiest to hoodwink.

"Compared to the glory of the nobility, what do a few meager profits matter? If we do not place restrictions on the bourgeoisie, I fear that in a few years, they will be climbing onto our heads to defecate! Uncle Louis, have you not noticed that the power of the bourgeoisie has been growing steadily? If this continues, there will come a day when we can no longer suppress them!" Franz cajoled.

These words were only effective for the present, as the nobility had not yet transformed into the bourgeoisie. Even if some invested in industry and commerce, they would not do so personally.

To ask them to sit as equals with capitalists? Forgive them, but the noble lords still had too much pride for that. If this was true for ordinary nobles, it went without saying for a great noble like Archduke Louis.