COUNTESS CHOTEK
Countess Chotek, afterwards Duchess Hohenberg, the morganatic wife of
the late Francis Ferdinand, the heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary,
was a most remarkable woman, and her history is perhaps the most
romantic that was ever written. She belonged to an impoverished
Bohemian family, which ranked high among the ancient aristocracy of
that nation. She was brought up very quietly and was accustomed, as a
girl, to ride in the tramway in Dresden, where her father held a post
in the Diplomatic Service. Her dresses were very plain, even for an
aristocrat. The peculiar charm that she possessed, however, made her
an object of much attention. She was a big blonde, as stately as an
empress, and at the same time a woman who knew how to make herself
agreeable in conversation, as her life had given her an intimate
knowledge of men and things that was unusual in a woman belonging to
a noble family, in Austria-Hungary, where the little aristocrats are
convent-bred, and never encouraged to form opinions of their own upon
the current topics of the hour. She was very ambitious, and intelligent
to an extraordinary degree. She was a woman who knew just what she
wanted, and who would not have hesitated to use any means that were
necessary for the attainment of her object. She made her entrance
into the Austrian Imperial family in a very subordinate position.
She became lady-in-waiting to the beautiful daughters of Archduke
Frederick, the richest of all the Archdukes. Her life in his family
was probably not disagreeable, but decidedly monotonous, as the family
spent most of the time on lonely country estates in Hungary. Archduke
Francis Ferdinand frequented the Vienna palace, on the Albrecht Platz,
where Archduke Frederick lived when in residence at Court. Everyone
believed that he was about to marry one of the Archduke’s daughters,
and the match was regarded as a good one. The girls had large dowries,
and relationship between the heir to the throne and the branch of the
family to which they belonged was very distant. It is probable that
the Archduke had some such arrangement in his mind when he visited
the house. He, however, fell violently and irretrievably in love with
the lady-in-waiting, a woman in the early thirties, and regarded as
long past marriageable age in Court circles. The romantic story of the
marriage is well known, but the fact that the Archduke, in marrying
the lady-in-waiting, made an inveterate enemy of Archduke Frederick
was never appreciated at its proper value abroad. In Vienna itself
the gravity of the position was well understood. No better-class
tradesman in Austria would allow such an insult to his daughters to go
unrevenged, for the Austrian father is very jealous of his daughters’
reputation. No young man is permitted to visit at a house regularly
without having the clearest “intentions.” At the Court this unwritten
law is much stricter than among the people. The Archduke, in selecting
the lady-in-waiting, was casting a slur upon the Archduchesses she
attended. Fortunately, there were several girls, and as he had never
singled out any one of them for particular attention, there was no
open rupture. It is certain, however, that the Archduke behaved in a
very ungentlemanly way, and that his conduct was totally lacking in
delicacy. Archduke Frederick never forgave the insult, and the other
members of the House of Habsburg sympathised with him in his wrath
at the incident. Indeed, the outraged father had plenty of occasion
to remember it. His daughter, Archduchess Isabella, who had hoped to
become the future Empress of Austria, made an unfortunate marriage
later on. Her parents, by way of settling the incident of the heir to
the throne, and laying the ghosts of rumours that still hung round
the girl’s name, arranged a match with Prince George of Bavaria.
The Archduchess, who hated the young man, actually set fire to her
wedding-dress on the eve of the marriage, hoping that it would be put
off, as she had nothing suitable to wear.
Incidentally, she set fire to the palace, and a valuable collection
of pictures in the adjacent museum was threatened. The marriage took
place on the morrow, a dress having been hurriedly contrived for the
occasion. The girl fled from her husband on the wedding journey, and
afterwards became a Red Cross nurse. For these misfortunes the Archduke
was regarded as primarily responsible and they served to make Countess
Chotek still more detestable to the Imperial family.
On his marriage Archduke Francis Ferdinand renounced all rights to
the throne and to any dignities or privileges belonging to members
of the House of Habsburg for his heirs. He and his wife withdrew into
obscurity, where a family of beautiful children was born to them.
This led Countess Chotek to dream of altering the laws of succession
and securing the throne for her eldest son. With this ulterior object
in view she came to Vienna at the time of the Emperor’s illness, and
tried to force her way into Court society. Her rank entitled her to
be received at Court, but not to be admitted into the magic circle of
the Austrian Imperial family as one of themselves. The etiquette of
the Vienna Court is the strictest in Europe, and is based upon that
ruling at the Spanish Court. The members of the Habsburg family are
all extremely simple, but they permit no liberties to be taken either
with themselves or the family. Countess Chotek, as she was then,
appeared at the Court ball unannounced. She intended to surprise the
Master of the Ceremonies, and force him to allow her to enter with
the Archduchesses. The old man did not lose his presence of mind. He
met the difficulty in a very clever way. The married Archduchesses
walked in first, each with her cavalier, selected especially for the
honour. After the long procession of handsome, stately dames with
flowing trains had passed into the brilliantly-lighted room, the young
Archduchesses who were presented at Court for the first time were led
into the hall, each on the arm of a handsome young officer. Eight
girls, dressed in simple muslin gowns that barely reached to their
ankles, and looking very childish, as none was more than eighteen years
of age, came next in the long procession. The Master of the Ceremonies,
who had detained Countess Chotek, found her a place, on the left arm
of the last cavalier, the youngest of the Archduchesses occupying the
post of honour on the right. Countess Chotek entered the ball-room
inwardly raging. Everyone noticed the insult, as the other ladies all
had a cavalier to themselves. The next morning the Vienna newspapers
alluded to the slight which had been put upon the wife of the heir to
the throne, and said that the Master of the Ceremonies should have
remembered that the Countess was a woman, and have refrained from so
pointed an insult. Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife left Vienna
the next day as a protest, and this was the last occasion upon which he
tried to force his wife upon the Court.
Kaiser Wilhelm, whose emissaries always kept him well informed of every
event, big or little, in Vienna, heard of the incident. Now was the
time for him to interfere. The Archduke, who had always turned a deaf
ear to blandishments from Berlin, would now be accessible. The man
who was too strong to care to hear flattery of himself would lend a
willing ear to any defence of his beautiful wife, who had been grossly
insulted. The Archduke became more deeply attached to his wife every
year; the inconveniences to which he was subjected for her sake only
strengthened his affection. When, therefore, an invitation for the
Archduke and his wife came from Berlin it was gratefully accepted.
Kaiser Wilhelm, whose wife, the Empress, has never been allowed to have
much voice in things, placed Countess Chotek in the place of honour,
and, what is vastly more important, caused the fact to be chronicled
in the German and Austrian papers. The Archduchesses in Vienna raged
inwardly, for Countess Chotek, the “scullery-maid,” as they were in the
habit of calling her, was being received with Royal honours, and the
rank accorded to her in Berlin was such as would be given to a future
Empress. Kaiser Wilhelm won a warm friend by this clever manœuvre,
which incidentally cost him nothing.
The Archduke did not come to Vienna on representative occasions after
this episode, but he kept in close touch with the Foreign Minister,
Count Aehrenthal, who looked to him for guidance instead of to the
Emperor. The War Minister went to the Archduke’s Bohemian palace when
he wanted large estimates passed, and induced the Archduke to exert his
influence in this direction. Meanwhile the favourite occupation of the
Archduke continued to be gardening, and this taste took him all over
Europe. The Court Chronicle never spoke of the Archduke. An accidental
paragraph in some foreign paper would reveal the fact that he and the
Countess were in Holland, attending sales of bulbs. He even went to
England incognito on several occasions to visit far-famed gardens. It
is doubtful, in the light of later events, whether all these journeys
were connected solely with gardening, although the Archduke was a
passionate horticulturist. Countess Chotek always accompanied her
husband, and when, in the early spring, he went to Miramare, near
Trieste, or to the fairy-like island of Brioni, she and the children
went too. The Archduke spent his time in superintending the building of
small swift cruisers, in inspecting wireless telegraphic installations
on the coast, and in keeping the naval experts employed at high
pressure. He was the first Archduke who was interested in the sea, the
aged Emperor caring so little for marine affairs that he did not even
possess a naval uniform among the large and miscellaneous collection in
his wardrobe.
Countess Chotek, like many not born to the purple, made mistakes of
a kind that did not add to her popularity. Her husband had great
possessions, and owned art treasures of inestimable worth, but they
were far from being a source of revenue. In fact his income was not
sufficient to keep them up properly. His wife had brought him no
dowry. His growing family was a source of expense. Thus ready money
was a scarcity in the family. Countess Chotek tried to economise on
her personal expenses, instead of leaving it to her stewards, who
understood where a woman of that rank can be mean and where she must
be munificent. She became involved in many discreditable _affaires_
through her stinginess. One of these was a dispute with a cabby at
Salzburg. The Countess committed an unheard-of indiscretion--she took
a one-horsed cab. No lady, _en toilette_, can ride in a one-horsed
cab in Austria. If really poor she can ride in the electric tramway,
but for some occult reason the cab is taboo. She must either take
a fiacre with a pair of dashing steeds, or a motor-car. Countess
Chotek not only hailed a one-horsed cab, when a row of handsome and
well-fitted fiacres stood by, but refused to pay the fare the cabby
demanded. He had recognised the lady, and naturally thought that she
would stand imposition, as ladies of the Imperial family never go
about unattended, and the only explanation to his unsophisticated mind
was that the Countess was on clandestine business of some kind, and
should be blackmailed for it. To his astonishment she marched him off
to the police-station herself. The police condemned the unfortunate
cabby to a fine, but the Countess Sofia was felt to be in the wrong.
What had possessed her to ride in an “Einspanner”? An elopement with
the groom or automobile chauffeur was quite an ordinary incident among
the aristocracy and speedily forgotten, but such a mistake as going in
the wrong kind of cab was more than a misdemeanour, it was a lack of
_savoir vivre_ that the country could never forgive.