Life of Being a Crown Prince in France - Chapter 1514 - 1420: Metternich's Reforms

Lucas stared at Pagani excitedly: “Why? Have you been scared by the Secret Police, or have those corrupt officials bought you off?”

“Have you forgotten? We all swore to save Austria, to fight for freedom for everyone with our lives!”

“Yes, they are arresting people everywhere now, and our printing press has been confiscated, but it’s precisely at times like this that we need to be brave and fight.”

“If even we shrink back, Austria will have no hope left!”

Pagani murmured: “No, no one needs saving anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Have you seen those serfs who labor every day until sunset but can’t even afford black bread…”

“They’re no longer serfs,” Pagani interrupted him, “You know, His Majesty the Emperor has allowed them to buy their own land, and now they only need to labor three days a week. Once they’ve paid the redemption money, they won’t have to do any labor at all.”

“Oh, the decree also stipulates that landlords can no longer execute or sell serfs. You should go to the countryside and see, the serfs are all extremely happy, no one wants to oppose the Emperor.”

Lucas was taken aback by his words: “No, but…”

Pagani didn’t give him a chance to speak: “Do you know why Baron Impetrao didn’t come?”

“Why?”

“The regional tariffs between Vienna and Bohemia have dropped to 12%, and they’re said to decrease to 5% within five years. At the same time, the guild monopoly system will be completely abolished within three years. Now anyone can set up a workshop without needing guild permission.”

Lucas fell silent.

Baron Perato is the owner of the second largest glassware factory in Vienna. Although he goes on about freedom, human rights, and parliamentary elections, he actually just wants to use the power of Congress to promote free trade within Austria and free himself from guild oppression.

Now most of his wishes have been realized in the Emperor’s reforms, why would he engage in “Liberal Movement” and risk arrest by the Secret Police?

Pagani’s momentum increased: “Mr. Metternich announced earlier this month that the government will encourage the development of industries such as textiles, mining, metallurgy, and machinery by reducing workshop taxes and decreasing imports from England, Italy, and other places to protect domestic industries.”

“Oh, he also mentioned that the government will invest in building canals and clearing waterways, even starting to lay railways from Vienna to Prague by the end of the year!”

“Everything will get better; there’s no need for liberalism or rebellion anymore.”

“Mr. Fokner has been busy securing loans recently. He’s preparing to open an ironworks in Moravia.”

Fokner is one of the main patrons of the Stilz Society, previously a very radical constitutionalist.

Pagani took advantage of Lucas’s dazed moment to get up and walk toward the door: “In short, that’s how things are.”

As he stepped out of the room, just as the performance on stage ended, the hall fell silent.

Lucas reluctantly chased after him: “Please wait a moment, there are many things we still need to do.”

Pagani stopped in the middle of the corridor: “Oh, regarding your frequent mention that ‘not only hereditary lords can become officials,’ Mr. Metternich also said that a civil service selection mechanism would be established, allowing everyone to become ordinary clerks.”

“Also, a free elementary school is under construction on the west side of Vienna. There might even be affordable healthcare in the future, just like in the France you admire most.”

The next day’s regular meeting of the Stilz Society saw less than one-fifth of the usual attendees, and almost no one mentioned topics like speeches or organizing marches; they were busy discussing the large-scale reforms this time.

Lucas inquired about raising funds to purchase a new printing press, but no one responded to him.

After the meeting, Lucas walked back to his residence with his head down.

Austria still hasn’t enacted the Declaration of Human Rights, hasn’t established a House of Representatives, and hasn’t abolished the Tax Farmers system; I absolutely cannot give up like this.

However, there were few willing to join him in fighting for his ideals anymore.

On his own, he ultimately can’t accomplish anything…

He returned to his residence, took out several drafts from the hidden compartment in the drawer, and counted—he still had over 4,000 florins.

His father had sent them to him over the years, totaling more than 37,000 francs, most of which he had used on Stilz Society activities.

But, he hadn’t accomplished anything.

He looked at the suitcase atop the cupboard and sighed: “Perhaps, I should also return to Paris…”

…

London.

An inconspicuous theater located at the south end of Edgeville Road was packed, even the corners of the walls and the aisles were filled with people.

Because at this moment, the new play that won an award at the European Drama Festival—”Count of Monte Cristo”—was being performed.

In the second-floor VIP box, William Pitt Junior, like all the other spectators, focused intently on the actors on stage, occasionally nodding appreciatively at the plot.

When it came to the scene where the main villain, Earl Fletcher Wells, was abandoned by everyone and disgraced, choosing to shoot himself, the Prime Minister couldn’t help but applaud: “Truly a magnificent play!”

Though he was puzzled why Earl Welles from the England would stir up so much trouble in France’s Provence.

Soon, the male lead took his beloved onboard the ship departing Paris, and the curtain slowly closed.

People in the theater stood up immediately, clapping vigorously and shouting excitedly in praise.

The door of the box opened, and the King of England and John Reeves, the head of the Constitutional Protection Association, quickly approached the Prime Minister’s side and bowed: “Prime Minister, all suspects have been apprehended. We’ve also found scripts insulting the Royal Family and vilifying Marquess of Wellesley.”

“The King and Constitutional Protection Association” is the department responsible for managing public opinion in England. The scripts Reeves mentioned were “Brave Heart” and “Thirty Days in Iberia.”

Although the troupe had brought them back, they didn’t dare perform them. Yet no one expected that just performing a few award-winning plays like “Count of Monte Cristo” and “Love in Paris,” the police would show up.

William Pitt nodded: “Leave the arrests to you.”

“Rest assured, Prime Minister.”

More than ten minutes later, a group of Secret Police bundled up all the members of the troupe and took them away, causing a burst of terrified screams in the theater.

William Pitt and the accompanying Duke of Portland were already on the carriage by then.

“What a clumsy trick,” the Duke of Portland glanced at the theater, “Those damn Frenchmen.”

“The script is indeed interesting,” William Pitt said, “Moreover, this method is quite effective. Now theaters across Europe are performing stories of the French Army’s grand victory in Porto.”

He had read the script of “Thirty Days in Iberia” a few days earlier and came specifically today to experience the award-winning drama.

The Duke of Portland frowned: “We can’t just let it go; we must retaliate!

“London also has many excellent playwrights, like Mr. Richard Sheridan and Mr. Thomas Morton.

“They can also write plays to make France lose face, and give them to troupes to perform in various countries.”

William Pitt nodded calmly: “You will take charge of this matter.”

Not long after, the carriage stopped at Ten Downing Street.

William Pitt had just entered through the door when he saw Lord Hawkesburg, the Foreign Minister, waiting for him.

“So late, you must have something important to tell me.”