Chapter Two
Imperial Twilight
Eckartsau, Lower Austria, 23rd March 1919.
Some fifty miles north east of Vienna, on the cold, damp, watery plain of the Marchfeld, at the imperial hunting lodge of Eckartsau, the Solemn Pontifical Mass at which Bishop Seydl had officiated and seven year old Crown Prince Otto had served as altar boy, was now over.
Within the crowded, richly ornamented, Baroque chapel of the schloss, most of the congregation were openly in tears, among them Hauptman Friedrich von Schönborn of the Kaiserliche und Königliche Luftfahrtruppen. Nonetheless, all rose to their feet in unison and stood to sing the Kaiserhymne: the imperial anthem of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Not of course that any of those present could ever have known it at the time but this would prove to be the very last occasion on which it would ever be sung here in Austria before the Emperor who, along with his wife and young family, were all sitting together up in the gallery above the rest of the congregation seated down below in the body of the chapel.
Several hours later, with dusk fast falling, arm in arm, the Emperor and the Empress came slowly down the steps of the main staircase of the hunting lodge and into the stone flagged hall. As they did so, completely unbidden, in silent reverence, everyone fell to their knees; Friedrich himself thinking back to the time when from the hands of the Emperor, out at the windswept military airfield near Wiener Neustadt, he had received the Military Merit Cross with crossed swords, awarded to him for bravery in the skies over the Isonzo Front.
A lifetime ago.
How had it ever come down to this?
Like many of those kneeling about him on the cold flagstones of the hall, Friedrich was well aware that he was a witness to history being made as the Emperor Karl, his wife Zita, and their young family began their tearful goodbyes to the handful of servants, soldiers, and local people who had remained steadfastly loyal to the Habsburg dynasty following those terrible, dark days back in November 1918 when, in the aftermath of both military defeat and the end of the Great War, the sprawling, centuries old Austro-Hungarian Empire had disintegrated; collapsing like a veritable house of cards with everything descending into chaos, disorder, and violence. Now, as the imperial family made ready to leave Austria and go into exile, even the weather chose to match the sombreness of the occasion; outside the sky suddenly darkened and it began to rain heavily.
At length, with the sad business of farewells at last concluded, under the ever watchful eye of Lieutenant-Colonel Strutt and a detachment of British soldiers, the Emperor and his family boarded the motor cars which would take them to the little station at Kopfstetten where the imperial train stood waiting to carry them away from Austria and into exile in Switzerland.
Ballroom, Rosenberg, Lower Austria, January 1932.
Seated on a chair beside the double doors of the Ballroom, Max looked on as his parents and some of their guests executed the intricate steps to a Ländler, an Austrian folk dance which appeared to be much more complicated than those of the waltz which Max and his mother had practised together for the very first time on Christmas Day. Now, as he continued to watch, above the music, snatches of conversation came fleetingly to his ears: about the weather, going hunting in the woods for wild boar, who had been at a house party which had been held somewhere or other, there had been more trouble in Vienna ... Max thought fleetingly of Ezra and the others he had met in Leopoldstadt; hoped they were safe.
A moment later, Max's ears pricked up, suddenly aware and painfully so that he himself was now the subject of a conversation. Knew intuitively that people were looking at him. Max blushed red.
"The boy? Well, just look at him. Isn't it obvious? He's Schonborn's ..."
The low laughter which came hard on the heels of this exchange was unlike any which Max had ever heard before. It certainly didn't sound like the laughter he was used to hearing - when, Papa and Mama found something amusing. And that word - Rotzbengel - spoken about himself - said as it had been in a half, hushed whisper sounded as though it was something of which he ought to be ashamed.
The Ländler drew inevitably to its close but just before it came finally to an end Baroness Arnstein seated herself on the empty chair beside him; saw that Max's face was very red.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
Max coloured still further.
"It's nothing," he said miserably and sniffed.
"Now, you don't strike me as the kind of boy to cry over nothing. So, let's both start by agreeing that isn't true, shall we?"
Max half turned on his chair; looked up at the Baroness. There was something in her manner which reminded him instinctively of Mama. What it was he couldn't say but he found himself warming to this lady whom he had met for the very first time not an hour since. Saw her bestow upon him a dazzling smile which gave Max the courage to ask her what he then did.
"May I ... may I ask you something first?" he asked hesitantly.
"But of course".
"What's a Rotzbengel? Someone said that's what I am ... Papa's Rotzbengel".
People, thought Eva, could be so very cruel.
Even, it seemed, to a child.
Which was unforgivable.
Yet, here in Austria, while it had been Manfred's wife, Julia, who had left him, as Manfred's mistress, Eva, who hailed from Budapest, the capital of Hungary, had found herself ignored and snubbed, just as much as had Edith, by members of so-called polite society. Had experienced in equal measure, both prejudice and bigotry. Had been the subject too of both gossip and tittle tattle. Gradually, she had become inured to it all yet now, despite her carefully crafted carapace and poise, Eva was unable to contain her astonishment at what Max had just told her.
And it showed.
Markedly so.
The boy saw it too.
"Who on earth said that?"
"Someone here, in this room. I don't know who exactly," said Max, looking about him, his voice faltering.
Eva was on the point of telling Max that he must be mistaken, that he had misheard but something stopped her from doing so. Knew that she had, in part, brought this upon herself by asking him in the first place, what it was that was the matter. He had been honest with her and she realised that here, for all of his young years, was someone with whom she should deal openly. If she could not unsay what had been said by denying that it had ever been spoken, then she could restore Max's pride in himself.
"Well, it's not a very nice thing to say, about anyone".
"Oh!" Max flushed; looked down at his feet. Not that he was surprised. In his heart he had known it must be so.
"Will you tell me something?" Baroness Arnstein asked brightly.
Max's head snapped up.
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
"Who here in this very room matters most of all to you?"
"Why, Papa and Mama". Max sounded puzzled that she should even have asked him such a thing.
Eva nodded her head, evidently in full agreement.
"That was what I expected you to say".
"Then ..."
"Why do you suppose that to be so?"
"Because ..."
"Because you love them and they love you?"
Max nodded.
"Yes. Very much," he whispered.
"You see, where people are concerned, what matters most, is that you have the love and respect of those whom you yourself love and respect. When all is said and done, whatever others may say, or do, doesn't really matter. In fact, it doesn't matter at all".
Looking up, Max saw his mother had come to stand in front of them. Exactly how long she had been there was impossible to know but evidently there had been time enough for her to hear what was being said. Edith smiled warmly at Eva.
"Thank you for those very kind words". She now turned her attention swiftly to Max. "As for you, young man, I think it's high time you were in bed. But before then, I've something to ask you".
"Mama?"
"Would you do me the honour?" She held out her hand to him.
"Me, Mama?"
"Yes, you! Who else?"
Rising to his feet, it was only now that Max appreciated that everyone else present had drawn back to the sides of the room and, for the most part, had fallen silent.
He turned and bowed to the Baroness; executed another perfect baisse main. He raised his head; their eyes met.
"Thank you," Max said softly.
"Now, remember what I just told you," Eva said with a smile.
Max nodded his head.
"I will".
There was nothing further to be said.
To a ripple of softly appreciative applause, taking his mother by the hand, Max led her to the middle of the ballroom where he saw her turn and nod briefly to the small orchestra. Max bowed gravely from the waist and Mama sketched a curtsy. A moment later, as first tinkling notes of The Snow Waltz spilled out across the vast room, they began to dance, before shortly thereafter those others present took to the floor, Max and his mother soon lost to sight, midst the swirling milieu of other couples.
Baja, Hungary, 31st October 1921.
When in March 1919 the Habsburgs had left Austria to go into exile in Switzerland, there had been a detachment of British soldiers on hand, there not only to protect them but also as a guard of honour. Earlier today, here in Baja, a contingent of British sailors had lined the quayside but there any similarity with the events of March 1919 ended. For, after two attempts, made by the emperor to regain the Kingdom of Hungary, both of which had ended in abject failure, the Allies had finally had enough. It was time, as they saw it, to put an end to the continuing intrigues on the part of Karl von Habsburg and his scheming wife Zita. And, in order to achieve this, to exile the emperor and empress permanently from the European mainland before they could cause any further mischief and once again jeopardise the fragile post war settlement here in Central Europe.
So, while today every courtesy had been extended to the imperial couple, the British sailors lining the quayside in Baja had been there neither for their protection nor as a guard of honour but rather to ensure that no attempt was made to rescue them by those yet still loyal to the Habsburg dynasty.
Now, as the emperor and his wife came on board the Royal Navy monitor, HMS Glowworm, riding gently at anchor out on the cold, grey waters of the River Danube, with the captain insisting both of them were his "honoured guests", even though they were in effect his prisoners, neither of them knew where it was they were they being taken, nor if their children, all of whom were still in Switzerland, would ever be allowed to join them.
Rosenberg, Lower Austria, summer 1933.
In its wake trailing a cloud of choking dust, the powerful 8 litre maroon liveried Maybach Zeppelin positively purred its way up the long drive leading to Rosenberg. Inside the motor the man seated behind the steering wheel turned again to the beautifully coiffured and elegantly clad woman sitting beside him. Seeing the expression on her face, he smiled. When but a moment later he spoke, he had to shout above the roar of the engine to make himself heard.
"Darling, do stop worrying! Rest assured, they'll both be absolutely delighted".
"Maybe. But calling here unannounced ..."
"As if that really counts for anything nowadays. Besides, as I told you before, they'll be overjoyed!"
"If you say so".
"I do say so!" He patted her knee; he hoped reassuringly. "Now ..." Despite the throaty roar from the engine and there being no-one else to hear him, he lowered his voice. " ... as to the other matter of which I spoke earlier. Circumstances being what they are presently ... that is to say, unpropitious, our friends in Buda are all firmly of the opinion that a resolution of the same must wait a while longer".
"I see".
"I'm glad that you do".
"But, if, as you say, this ..."
"There must not be a repetition of what happened the last time. That being so, to act prematurely in this ... the consequences could prove fatal ... for all of us".
"That I can well believe," she said, nodding her head.
"And, not a word ... either to Friedrich or to Edith".
"Of course not, no. But I thought you said you intended to speak to Frie ..."
He inclined his head.
"So I did. And so I will. But only when I judge the time to be right. And one thing more ..."
"Which is?"
"For God's sake, woman, smile!"
A few moments later, its wheels crunching on the gravel, the Maybach Zeppelin came to a stand before the front door of the mansion.
Quinta do Monte, Monte, Madeira, 1st April 1922.
The destination for the exiled emperor and empress, now aboard the British light cruiser HMS Cardiff, had turned out to be the infinitely remote island of Madeira, a possession of the Portuguese Republic, lying some six hundred miles from the European mainland.
With little money and the emperor in poor health, a local banker kindly offered the all but destitute family - the children having joined their parents here in February 1922 - the use of his villa, the Quinta do Monte, perched high in the hills, in Monte, overlooking the capital, Funchal.
While exceedingly grateful for this kind act of generosity on the part of one of the owners of Reid's Hotel, the villa itself was in fact only fit for habitation during the heat of the summer. In winter, with no proper fuel, it was both cold and damp. Early in March, having caught a chill walking back up to Monte, the emperor found himself confined to bed. Pneumonia set in and, on 1st April 1922, at the young age of but thirty four, the Emperor Karl breathed his last. His final words to his wife, heavily expectant with their eighth child were: "I love you so very much".
The heir to the vanished thrones of both Austria and Hungary was an eleven year old boy - Crown Prince Otto - and it was to him that his widowed mother now did homage, not in Vienna, nor even in Budapest, but on a windswept speck of rock, far out in the wilds of the Atlantic Ocean.
Rosenberg, Lower Austria, summer 1933.
Here, where the cold, crystal clear waters of the stream entered a grove of alder and crack willow, the current at first slowed, then became sluggish, before broadening out into a deep, dark, reed fringed pool on the far side of which the stream once more quickened pace, flowing swiftly on, first towards the Krems, then at length south into the mighty Danube, and, hundreds of miles distant, at long last into the Black Sea.
Out of sight, close to where the twisted roots of a fallen oak tree thrust their way downwards through the mud of the overhanging bank and into the water, all but hidden among the tall green reeds, a solitary grey heron had been standing motionless in the shallows for some considerable amount of time, waiting patiently to spear himself a meal but so far without success. This was partly because, beneath the surface of the water, the skein of tangled roots of the fallen oak provided a safe haven for all manner of small fish such as chub, carp, perch, and trout, so well out of the reach of the probing, sharp beak of the heron. Now, hearing the sound of the boys approaching his lonely haunt, disconsolate, and with a slow beat of wings, croaking loudly, the heron rose majestically from the reeds and soared away to try his luck further downstream.
But the grey bird was not the only predator in these parts presently baulked of his prey.
Away from the bank, out in the middle of the pool, there in its watery depths, the huge, razor toothed pike remained all but motionless, and bided his time.
"Manfred! Eva, darling!"
Letting go of Sybil's arm, Edith quickly crossed the terrace where she was kissed and warmly embraced by each of her unexpected visitors. With Friedrich having now greeted their guests, turning to her sisters and brothers-in-law, Edith introduced them to ...
"Friedrich's cousin, Manfred. And this ... this is his ... companion, Baroness Arnstein".
Eva laughed; shook her head.
"Darling, you're woefully behind the times!" Held out her left hand, on the fourth finger of which was a magnificent diamond ring and a slim gold band.
"Married! Oh, my dear, how absolutely wonderful. But when? Where? And why on earth didn't you let us know?"
"Last week, in Nice. It was a spur of the moment thing! But you know Manfred! So, with his annulment from Julia finally having been granted ..."
"And how is the delightful Julia?" asked Friedrich; common courtesy dictating that he did so, even if he had never liked the woman.
Where his detested ex-wife was concerned, Manfred had no such sensibilities.
"Decaying, I hope," he observed coldly.
An awkward silence ensued, deftly ended by Friedrich.
"This really calls for a celebration! Shall we ..." He indicated the wicker chairs. "And Feist ..."
"Sir?"
"Fetch up a bottle of the Dom Perignon '26".
For her part, having heard earlier, and at length, from Edith just how fond was Eva of darling Max, and he of her, Mary was prepared to dislike Baroness Arnstein on sight; drawing some satisfaction from the fact that in terms of her social position as a countess, she out ranked her. That and the fact that since 1919, here in Austria the nobility had been abolished, along with all the privileges which once had been enjoyed by the members of the aristocracy. Several nights earlier, over dinner, Friedrich had explained that this abolition extended to those of such rank living in lands once ruled by the Habsburgs such as Bohemia and Croatia, and included Hungary - from where Eva herself hailed.
Not of course that Mary let her inner feelings show; she was far too poised for that. Instead, assuming a mask of aristocratic inscrutability, she shook hands, just as Matthew had done, first with Manfred and then with Eva, before exchanging the customary pleasantries that one did on such occasions while at the same time bestowing upon Eva, a perfect acid drop of a smile.
Author's Note:
Save for the fictitious presence of Friedrich, the departure of the Habsburgs from Austrian soil in March 1919 took place exactly as described. The British officer and soldiers had been dispatched to Austria on the orders of no less a personage than King George V himself so as to ensure the safety of the Emperor and his family and prevent a repetition of what had befallen the Romanovs in Russia in July 1918.
For Friedrich's bravery as a fighter pilot during the Great War, see my other stories, The Rome Express and The Snow Waltz.
The two attempts made by the emperor and his wife to regain the Kingdom of Hungary in 1921 were thwarted by a combination of factors, including threats of military invention by those states, both new and old which had either been created out of the wreckage of the Austro-Hungarian Empire or else profited from its demise. The fact that the Regent of Hungary, Miklós Horthy, the last commander of the Imperial and Royal Navy, refused to support the Emperor proved fatal to Karl's cause.
While it may be argued that in attempting to regain the throne of Hungary, Karl and Zita had forfeited any considerations they could have expected to receive as a former emperor and empress, the treatment meted out to the exiled Habsburgs both by the Allies and the republican government in Vienna was an utter disgrace.
Reid's Hotel, the most expensive hotel in Madeira, is still there in Funchal. However, the Villa Victoria which formed an annexe to it, and where Karl and Zita stayed before their children joined them, has long since been demolished.
The Quinta do Monte and its gardens, known today as the Quinta Jardins do Imperador, may be visited along with the outside of the house (gutted in the forest fires of 2016 and yet to be restored). The chapel and tomb of the Emperor Karl may be seen in the nearby parish church of Nossa Senhora do Monte.
The Adelsaufhebungsgesetz of 1919 had abolished nobility as well as all noble privileges, titles and names in Austria.