WHO MURDERED THE ARCHDUKE?
The constant friction between Emperor Francis Joseph and his heir was
always increased when the autumn manœuvres came round. The Emperor, who
was over eighty, wished to attend them, and on two occasions they had
to be put off, as the doctors said that the monarch could not spend
his nights sleeping in a tent. Archduke Francis Ferdinand was always
too ready to take up the duties which would have been performed by
the Emperor had he been younger. Thus the hatred between the reigning
monarch and his heir increased every year. The Emperor was prepared to
allow his heir a large sum of money if he would consent to resign his
right to the throne. This was not because of his personal antipathy.
The doctors who attended the Archduke said that he was not entirely
responsible for his actions. They suspected that he had an abscess on
the brain. He had committed hasty, ill-considered actions that could
be pardoned in an Archduke, but that were not possible for an Emperor,
who must always keep his temper. The Imperial family dreaded the time
of his coming to the throne. They had notified the Emperor that they
would withdraw from the Court if Duchess Hohenberg were made Empress.
At that epoch no one doubted that the Archduke would create her Empress
of Austria and Queen of Hungary on his accession.
The manœuvres in Bosnia--arranged to take place there because the
peoples of the newly-annexed provinces had been somewhat restless--were
about to take place. Archduke Francis Ferdinand decided to assist. His
wife said that she would accompany him. The Emperor was very angry. He
did not wish the Archduke to go to Bosnia. He was much too unpopular
to take such a risk. When Emperor Francis Joseph heard that Duchess
Hohenberg was to accompany her husband, his wrath knew no bounds. The
ladies of the Imperial family never accompanied their husbands on such
occasions. If the Archduke and his wife went to Bosnia she would be
received as the future Empress of Austria. The Emperor forbade him to
take her. The Archduke insisted. If there was any danger, his wife, who
was really courageous, would wish to be at his side. The Emperor, who
was very jealous about his authority, was extremely angry. It is very
probable that he did not hide his feelings from his near relations.
The next news that reached Vienna was that the Archduke and his wife
had been assassinated at Sarajevo. The crime was committed on a Sunday.
It was midsummer in Vienna, and, strange to say, every important
personage was on the spot. As a rule, the official personages left
Vienna on the Saturday, when there were two consecutive holidays, as
in this case, the Monday being a _fête_-day, and spent the week-end
at the Semmering. On this particular occasion everyone was in Vienna.
The Emperor was at Ischl. The telegram with the news was sent there
first. He exclaimed, “What impertinence of those Bosnians!” but was not
otherwise moved.
The official account of the assassination, which was full of
discrepancies, was then sent to Vienna. According to this account, a
bomb had been thrown at the Archduke and his wife on their way to the
Sarajevo town-hall. It had failed to kill them. The Archduke, little
moved by the occurrence, merely taunted the Mayor of Sarajevo with the
lack of courtesy that the people had shown. “Instead of presenting us
with bouquets, you receive us with bombs.” The Archduke could afford
to make merry over his escape. He naturally expected that the streets
had been cleared of people during his long visit to the town-hall. It
was a matter of elementary precaution. The Bosnian police, however,
had received instructions from Vienna that the Archduke’s safety was
to be left in the hands of the military. The Archduke and his wife
entered the car. The driver started off. He was in the plot. He drove
them right across the road to where the murderer was waiting. This
meant running the car on the wrong side of the road. Everyone noticed
this, but no one protested. No one seized the assassin after he had
fired at the Archduke’s head. He had ample time to kill the wife too.
The boy, too, knew a secret that was carefully kept in the Imperial
family. Archduke Francis Ferdinand was wearing armour. For this reason
the assassins tried to kill him with a bomb. This attempt having
failed, the assassin fired at his head instead of at his breast.
Both Kaiser Wilhelm and Archduke Francis Ferdinand spent much time
and thought in trying to find bullet-proof armour. At the time of the
assassination the Archduke was wearing a silken vest an inch thick. It
was woven obliquely--made on the same principle as the jackets used
for automobile tyres. It was warranted to turn the point of a knife
or bullet. The vest was cumbersome and somewhat warm. It gave the
Archduke an appearance of extreme stoutness. He, however, knowing how
intensely he was hated in Austria and Hungary, never cared to appear in
public without some protective armour. Steel corselets were excellent
in bygone days, but are no use against a modern rifle. The Archduke
feared he might be shot from a window. The secret that the Archduke was
wearing armour was known to half-a-dozen people at most. The assassin
must have learnt it from a member of the Imperial family.
A number of reporters started for Sarajevo that night to find out what
had really happened there on that dark Sunday. They were turned back
by the police. All letters from individuals in Sarajevo were censored.
The telegraphic service was suspended. The police were never even
reprimanded for allowing the heir to the throne to be assassinated. On
the contrary, the heads of the force were promoted shortly afterwards.
In Vienna the news was received with ill-concealed satisfaction.
Everyone, from Archduke to crossing-sweeper, feared the day of his
coming to power. The story went out to the world that the Archduke
Francis Ferdinand had been killed by Serbs. This was not true. The
young men concerned in the conspiracy were Bosnians, and Austrian
subjects. The Government, however, saw that there was a chance of
forcing a war upon Servia. If Austria could only prove that Servia had
been responsible for the crime, she could undertake her long-planned
“vengeance promenade” to Belgrade with the assurance that Europe would
not interfere. Statesmen anticipated no difficulty in fastening the
guilt on Servia, as the murders of King Alexander and Queen Draga were
not forgotten. Austria, however, forgot her own black record. Emperor
Maximilian of Mexico had been shot. It was always felt that more might
have been done by his own family for his safety. Empress Elizabeth had
been assassinated at Geneva. Her decease was most convenient. The
country was wearied of hearing of the pilgrimage of the heartbroken
woman through Europe. Crown Prince Rudolf, who was much too popular,
had also been murdered mysteriously. The persons concerned in his
death had all been exiled. They had been sent to South America, but
pensions sufficient to keep them in luxury for the rest of their lives
had been bestowed upon them. These riches were only held on condition
that the fearful night at the lonely hunting-box near Vienna was never
mentioned. Emperor Francis Joseph had thus lost his three nearest
relatives by assassination.
The news of the Archduke’s assassination was only discussed in whispers
in Vienna. Everyone was afraid of arrest. Nevertheless, no one thought
of accusing Servia. Archduke Francis Ferdinand was the one man in
all the country who favoured the Slavs. His wife’s influence would
secure advancement at Court for every man with Slavonic blood in his
veins. The Germans feared that they would be overrun with them. While
Austrians and Hungarians generally detested the Archduke, the Slavs
loved him devotedly. It was clear that neither the Austrian Slavs nor
Servia had any interest in the Archduke’s death. They had everything to
lose.
The Imperial family was most anxious for his death. Archduke Frederick
had never forgotten the slight put upon his daughter.
The assassin had definite instructions to murder the Duchess Hohenberg.
Such orders could only come from persons actuated by motives of
personal hatred. No one else in the world desired her death. Women,
especially aristocrats and the mothers of families, are held in
great veneration in Slav countries. It is certain that had the
Bosnians arranged the plot, the Archduke would have been shot, but
the morganatic wife spared. She was not even a member of the Imperial
family. Why should she be sacrificed?
The remains of the Archduke and his wife were brought to Vienna.
The Austrians, a Catholic people, and accustomed to exaggerated
respect being paid to the dead, were deeply shocked at the funeral
arrangements. The Imperial family wished that every possible insult
should be shown to the remains of the defunct lady-in-waiting.
Italians living in Trieste describe with horror the landing of the
coffins, which were brought from Bosnia by sea. They had no cause to
love the Archduke, but were outraged by the disrespect to the dead. The
sailors who carried them from the ship let one coffin drop upon the
quay through carelessness. It lay there until they had taken breath
and felt inclined to resume their burden. The funeral arrangements
in Vienna were of a very third-class order. The Austrians said: “The
Imperial family has no respect--not even for death. Their hate pursues
its victims beyond the tomb.” The city was filled with reports of
unseemly disputes about the funeral arrangements. The Imperial family
wished to separate the pair of lovers, who had been so loyal to each
other in life, and bury them separately. It was an outrage, they said,
that any Habsburg should walk behind the coffin of a morganatic wife.
Finally, it was arranged that the coffins should lie in state side by
side in the Hofburg Chapel. The Chapelle Ardente was poorly fitted;
trappings for a third-class funeral were used. The military party
in Austria-Hungary was indignant that such an insult should be put
on a soldier. Old men, dressed in their uniforms ablaze with Orders
and military decorations, entered the sombre chapel, which was not
even properly supplied with candles. Bursting with indignation and
rage, they knelt and said a short prayer for the dead. The deep-toned
mutterings sounded more like cries for vengeance than prayers for
the souls of the departed. Bohemian nobles came into the chapel. They
glared at the unseemly sight. Everything was poverty-stricken.
Early in the morning a huge crowd had gathered to take part in the
procession in front of the coffins. Every Austro-Hungarian subject
has the right to see the face of the deceased monarch or of the heir
to the throne after death. The Archduke’s coffin was sealed down.
His face could not be exposed; his head had been so disfigured. But,
nevertheless, the Ringstrasse was filled with people. They were
permitted to enter the chapel in single file. The police on the great
Ringstrasse sent many home, assuring them that their turn to enter
the Hofburg would never be reached. This show of popular sympathy had
enraged the Court. When the funeral procession was on its way to the
station in Vienna after the lying-in-state, an unrehearsed incident
took place. A large number of Bohemian aristocrats, with Prince Max
Egon Fürstenburg at their head, assembled in one of the squares. They
were either in costume or uniform, and were wearing the arms that
belonged to their rank--short daggers, for the most part. They walked
bareheaded behind the funeral as chief mourners to show their respect
to Duchess Hohenberg, a member of the Bohemian aristocracy, and their
resentment at the insults that had been heaped upon her head. Who were
the proud Habsburgs to treat a Bohemian and a woman in such a way?
Their whole attitude was not one of mourning, but of protest.
The final scenes took place at Arstatten, beyond the Danube. They were
disgraceful beyond anything that had happened before. A violent storm
forced the funeral _cortège_ to take refuge in an inn. The mutes became
offensively drunk. Ghastly stories of the coffins being knocked off the
chairs that were supporting them were circulated in Vienna. These may
have been exaggerated. There was, however, some truth in the tales of
impiety.
There was no one responsible in charge of the funeral. This was
extraordinary, as the most unimportant Court ceremonies are always
managed by experts long trained to do the right thing. Nothing is left
to chance or accident. But the Archduke, the heir to the throne, was
buried with less respect than would have been shown to an employé in
the Court service had he died that week.