War Palace and Knee Pillow, Austria’s Destiny

(This chapter is a tribute to the 19th century German literary work "The Bloody Judge")

At this time such a song can be heard throughout Silesia:

"Bloody Judge"

This bloody judgment is going on,

Terror has surpassed lynching,

The final judgment has not yet begun,

These poor people's lives are about to end.

People are slowly tortured here,

This is a torture house.

Deep sighs filled the whole room,

It was the final testimony to the misery.

In the only tavern in Katowice, an old weaver sighed subconsciously after listening to the lyrics, and suddenly realized that he was indeed the one living in the torture house.

No one knows who wrote this song, but it can make every weaver feel the same way, because no one cares about them, and the suffering they suffer has nowhere to vent, and can only be turned into sighs.

Some people had tears in their eyes, some clenched their fists, some were ready to watch the show, and some even mocked, "Sluggard! Sigh and let us listen!".

A few well-established "gentlemen" (actually local aristocrats, otherwise they wouldn't have to go to the tavern to drink) were completely disdainful of listening to the conversations of these vulgar people. They drank wine and enjoyed it slowly with knives and forks. Tender steak.

They are executioners,

Their subordinates are all lackeys,

Exploit us together,

No conscience at all.

You are all devils,

You are all vampire reincarnations.

The devil crawled out from the bottom of hell,

You rob the poor people's houses,

Will be destroyed by heaven and earth!

"Destroyed by heaven and earth!?" People in the tavern let out different exclamations. Some were ecstatic, some were afraid, and some were choking.

At the same time, some people quietly left the tavern. They had a premonition of something and either fled home or rushed to the police station.

Supplications and prayers are of no use;

Complaining is just empty talk.

"If you don't want to do it, just leave, and you'll starve to death on the streets without anyone asking!"

The weavers sang it naturally, and several gentlemen could no longer sit still. They put on their hats, loosened their collars that felt a little tight, arranged the money for the drinks, and left in a hurry.

(In fact, these squires did not pay the bill at the time when they drank. They asked the tavern owner to pick it up at their home, or asked the butler to deliver it. I won’t go into details here, after all, I will write about it often in the future.)

Think about those poor people,

The suffering and sorrow are hard to describe in words,

The family's wealth and food are exhausted,

Don't they deserve alms?

Sympathy! The noble qualities of human beings,

How could those demons know?

Their goal has been clear,

Just drive us poor people away and kill them all!

"Kill them all!?"

"Yes! They just want to drive us out! Otherwise, why would they do this to us? I work eighteen hours a day, and look what I got! Skin and bones, and sores all over my body!"

A weaver took off his coat, revealing his skinny body and the patches of rotten skin on it. He didn't look like a twenty-year-old boy, but he was clearly a leper who had been bedridden for many years.

But this is not shocking enough. There is a woman whose waist can only be raised up to 90 degrees, and the one-eyed fourteen-year-old boy (mentioned earlier) has legs that are weirdly twisted, just like in a circus. Like a clown.

"What should we do?" someone sobbed.

"Why cry? What's the use of crying!" The one-eyed boy angrily scolded the weavers around him.

Then a woman thought.

"Yes! There's no use crying at the devil! We're going to protest!"

At this time, the little girl next to the boy let out a disdainful snort, and before anyone else could say anything, she kept talking to herself.

"Protest and then get beaten up like Mr. Movar in Peterswaldau and thrown in jail?"

The cold reality of the girl's words was completely inconsistent with her appearance. The weavers sitting in the tavern hesitated. They also wanted to march and protest like those outside, but they were afraid of retaliation.

Just when everyone was hesitating, the girl took off the big baggage she was carrying and threw it on the ground. A large number of strong sticks rolled out from it.

Everyone looked at each other in confusion, but these pieces of wood were all good firewood.

"Take them, you guys will be braver."

At this time, the one-eyed boy pulled the girl. He didn't want his sister to get involved.

"Don't cause trouble, come home with me." Ace whispered.

Ruibi shook off the boy's hand and said with a smile.

"Brother, do you know? Those mysterious meats were not rewarded to me by some noble master. Those dog meats from the forest officer's family, if they bully you, I will kill them all!

Now that Mr. Philpot is bullying you, I want him to pay the price! "

"Follow me home and let's get out of here quickly. Do you know who the forest officer Mr. Wilgon is? If he finds out about this, he will have to skin you!"

"I'm going to let him know!"

The boy's one eye widened, and now he understood why his sister came to the tavern.

At this time, the parade passed by again, and the angry weavers picked up the sticks on the ground and rushed out.

The marching crowd was a little scared at first, but they became emboldened when they saw that they were the same weaver brothers.

So a group of people rushed towards the big white house of Mr. Philpot's house.

The girl also took the opportunity to join in. The boy with bad legs and feet could only fall to the ground and watch his sister leave.

The tavern owner on the side was collecting scattered empty wine glasses while muttering "Crazy! Everyone is crazy!"

In fact, the tavern owner should be lucky that Germans do not have the habit of breaking glasses to make oaths, otherwise his losses would be even greater.

At this time, Mr. Philpot was complaining to his official friends.

"It's all those damn reporters! They just like to catch rumors and spread rumors all day long! Especially those Austrian and Catholic lackeys who talk about how difficult the work of weavers is all day long!

They are all blind and don’t know how difficult it is for us factory owners! What a hard work! We are so busy at work that we cannot eat well or sleep well. Who will take care of us?

When the factory owner is often alone at home, he will check the account books over and over again, otherwise someone will take advantage of him!

You have to consider all kinds of things every day, and you have to always be prepared to deal with business competition and market changes, as well as some unexpected situations.

In other words, the factory owner alone is responsible for the fate of the entire factory, and all workers rely on his blood to survive. If it weren't for people like us, those lazy guys would all have to drink the northwest wind! "

At this time, Forester Will Gang said with a smile.

"Dear Mr. Philpot, why do you need to be as knowledgeable as those lazy fools? The wise work hard, and the fool works hard. Who should they blame for their own stupidity?"

Mr. Philpot took over again.

"I'm angry that instead of being grateful, they actually spread rumors about me. As you know, I am a devout Protestant, and thrift, kindness, justice, and honesty are all my virtues.

And I am a good Prussian citizen, and I pay more taxes every year than they will pay in their entire lives! "

Both the forester and the gendarmerie captain understood what Philpot meant.

"I understand what you mean. Don't worry, our Prussian government will protect law-abiding citizens and will never let those lazy people do whatever they want."