35.Chapter 35 Black and White Reversed

On March 9, 1848, Vienna descended into deepening chaos. Arson, murder, and looting occurred with increasing frequency, and the entire city lost all semblance of order.

This was the third day since the revolution erupted. Due to the profound contradictions between the working class and the bourgeoisie, numerous conflicts had already broken out between the two sides over their clashing interests.

Had it not been for their common enemy, the two factions would have parted ways long ago; even while maintaining a nominal alliance, they acted entirely according to their own agendas.

There was no help for it—one must eat even while making a revolution—so the first to suffer were the capitalists in the grain industry, whose warehouses were "revolutionized" by the workers.

The workers, long accustomed to being ruthlessly exploited, found their desire for vengeance ignited by those with ulterior motives. Many simply decided to go all the way, settling old scores and venting their grievances.

They beat overseers to death, finished off the thugs hired by the capitalists, and turned the spearhead of the revolution against the bourgeoisie.

Once the first blow was struck, a second was inevitable. The capitalists' hands were stained with the blood of the workers; as long as no one led them, it was one thing, but now that they were being incited, the fury could no longer be suppressed.

Many union representatives who tried to intervene were instantly branded as counter-revolutionaries and lackeys of the capitalists; no amount of reasoning could stop the workers from seeking their revenge.

Human desire is a terrifying thing. Once the mob killed their first capitalist and divided his spoils, they could no longer restrain themselves.

This exacerbated the conflict between the two sides. To protect their own interests, the capitalists scrambled to organize their own revolutionary army, leading to multiple armed clashes between the factions.

Now, the bourgeois-led revolutionary army aimed its sights at the Viennese nobility, while the working-class revolutionary army was "revolutionizing" both the nobles and the capitalists alike.

In a manor in Vienna, a large group of people had gathered. These were individuals who valued money over their own lives; those who feared death had already fled the city.

An elderly man in his sixties spoke with a trembling voice, "Mr. Owen, what are we to do now? Those mud-legged wretches have turned their targets toward us. In just two short days, thirteen gentlemen have already been murdered!"

"The wealth looted from everyone is beyond calculation. If this continues, it won't be long before it's the turn of those of us sitting here!"

Everyone turned their gaze toward Owen. He had orchestrated this revolution, and now that the situation had spiraled out of control, they hoped he could provide an effective solution.

Owen looked at the crowd with a livid expression. He had never expected things to devolve into such a state; his original intention had merely been to use the working class as cannon fodder to establish a bourgeois government.

Unfortunately, before the new government could even be established, the situation on the ground had slipped from his grasp. The revolutionary party they had propped up lacked the capacity to fulfill the mission entrusted to them.

The union representatives they had courted were utterly incapable of controlling the workers beneath them, and from the very beginning, the revolution had veered off its intended course.

"I also express my deepest regrets regarding the accidental deaths of these thirteen gentlemen. The dead cannot return to life; may they find peace in heaven!"

"Their blood will not have been shed in vain. We will settle this account. As for everyone's property losses, the current sacrifices are merely to ensure greater gains in the future."

"The current situation is extremely unfavorable. We must initiate our contingency plan: send representatives to negotiate with His Majesty the Emperor, while simultaneously preparing to suppress these rebels!"

The crowd fell silent. Negotiation was a desperate choice. They were all intelligent men who understood that the current situation was dire, as the military remained loyal to the imperial house.

This time, they had merely caught the government off guard; if the City Defense Force were to return, the situation would likely shift dramatically.

No one believed that the rabble they currently commanded could defeat a regular army.

Smart people are rational; once they realized the situation was dire, they naturally sought a way to extricate themselves. Especially after internal conflicts erupted, their revolutionary fervor waned significantly.

It was fine to revolutionize others, but when it came to revolutionizing themselves, that was out of the question.

At this moment, a young man in his twenties wearing glasses stood up and challenged him: "Mr. Owen, do you think that is even possible? Do not forget that we have had no way back since the uprising began."

"Think about how many nobles we have executed in the last two days. You are well aware of the tangled relationships among the nobility; do you truly believe they will let us off now?"

"Even if they spare us for the moment, how can we be sure they won't settle scores later? Or do you actually believe that our epileptic Emperor is the one calling the shots?"

The group, which had been prepared to accept reality and compromise, began to hesitate once more.

The Viennese nobility had suffered heavy losses in this revolution, and the enmity between the two sides was set in stone.

Even if they could use their current strength to force the Vienna Court to compromise, once the City Defense Force returned, the balance of power would be reversed.

The armed forces they held were not standing armies; their dissolution was only a matter of time. If the two sides had a falling out, they would lack the strength to resist.

This was different from their previous opposition to Prime Minister Metternich, who had played by the rules and refrained from using extreme measures.

Now that they themselves had broken the rules, could they really expect the nobles to adhere to the game's etiquette?

This was a very realistic problem; even if they seized control of the government, they lacked the power to withstand a counterattack from the nobility.

Hearing the young man's words, Owen's face turned ashen. How could he not have considered these issues?

However, he believed in sacrificing others to save himself; he still had ways to ensure his own safe escape. He had already profited enough from this uprising; at worst, he would simply go into exile abroad.

"Rams, everyone here is aware of the problems you mention, and I have no way to offer guarantees. But do not forget: the nobles suffered such heavy casualties, yet was it our hand that struck them?"

"It is clear that those mud-legged wretches did it. We organized our forces solely for self-preservation and to suppress the rebellion; this uprising has nothing to do with us."

"Are there not still some nobles who previously supported our cause? Now is the time for them to step forward and define this rebellion for what it is!"

Owen spoke this blatant reversal of black and white without a change in his expression. Though it was self-deception, it was undoubtedly an excellent way to deflect hatred.

If the nobility sought revenge later, it would be purely out of a sense of "the rabbit dying and the fox grieving"—a necessary act to maintain class interests—but that did not mean all of them truly wanted to avenge the dead.

Many might even celebrate it; if a family line died out, they could pick up a title for free, and perhaps even inherit a fiefdom.

As long as they found a scapegoat, shifted the blame, and spent some money to grease the wheels, the matter would eventually blow over.