# 52

         Hapsburg Circle Part One

 

Although it was just eleven o’clock in the morning, the quartet of seemingly hungry

men were soon busy chomping away at smoked salmon, goose liver pate and oysters. Of

course, these delicacies required glasses of either Bordeaux or Burgundy.

Very little conversation occurred during the meal save for a compliment or two about

a certain taste or aroma.

At the conclusion of the meal and after a few burps and loosening of belts, Willy

asked Eric what he thought of his repast.

“Well, Sir, it reminded me of the baker, who while kneading bread dough, discovered

a maggot in it. He anxiously asked the critter, ‘Have you lived here long?’ ‘No,’ it

replied. ‘I am a nomad!’”

 

“Gott im Himmel!” cried Willy. “Did you find something in the pate?”

“Don’t worry, Willy. I ate it!”

His Majesty nearly choked as he laughed convulsively.
 

Herbie asked Wilhelm to share his thoughts of heir apparent Franz Ferdinand. “I’ve

never seen the man except in newspaper photographs.”
 

Eric Falkenhayn laughed.
 

“What’s so funny?” asked a perplexed Herbie.
 

“Well, as you know,” explained Wilhelm, “we will visit the Archduke and his wife

Sophia for a few days. The first thing you will notice about Ferdie is that he lacks a sense

of humor. He has a face that matches his dour personality. You will certainly notice his

consumptive face. It looks like a potato, is that not true Martin?”
 

The Kaiser’s servant nodded disinterestedly.
 

“Even more, he has deep set eyes that seem to peer out of a dark grotto!”

Again, Eric giggled.
 

'Stop that!” complained Wilhelm. “You sound like a stuck pig!”

“Ja wohl Your Majesty” said the General muffling a snicker.

 

“You must understand, Herbie,” continued the Kaiser, “that Franz Ferdinand’s health

is very delicate because of his tuberculosis. He spent several months in Egypt recovering

from its ill effects. Although it seemed his health had improved, his doctors told me that

tuberculosis seldom disappears completely. He has a constant dry cough and his

breathing is raspy. When he and I went hunting last year, Ferdie had the occasional shits

and carried a role of toilet paper with him at all times. I also learned that he takes both

opium and quinine probably to relieve his aches and pains. The loutish churl developed

into quite a person, still insufferably arrogant, cruel and headstrong, but generally a

straightforward, outspoken man. Frankly, I like him. He says exactly what he thinks,

which includes expressing his contempt for his Uncle Franz Josef’s dastardliness during

his sixty-year reign. He makes no secret of his complete dislike for the Hungarian

Magyars. He blames them for the rather minor position Austria-Hungary possesses in

Europe.”
 

“Why the Magyars?” asked Herbie with feigned innocence.

Wilhelm rubbed his chin for a moment, glad for a chance to express his command of

history. “The Magyars settled in Hungary around the seventh century. With Saint

Stephen, who introduced Christianity, the history of Hungary began. Stephen was the

first King of that country. A feudal society arose with the Magyars gaining great power.

After the 1848 revolutions, Hungary became a constitutional kingdom in union with

Austria. The Magyars remain ball-busters in the politics of the Dual Monarchy.”
 

Herbie hung his head down. “In preparation for our trip, I should have read something

about the history of Austria-Hungary!”
 

“Not to worry, old fellow,” laughed Eric. “The finest social scientists can’t seem to

make head or tail of that conundrum!”
 

Willy smiled and asked, “What’s the difference between a Magyar and a wurst?”
 

Falkenhayn took the bait. “I surely do not know and do not want to know. However, I

am certain that my Liege will tell me!”
 

“The answer, my friend, is that the wurst tastes good, but the Magyar doesn’t!”
 

Herbie and Eric forced a giggle just to please the Kaiser.
 

“Please, Chief,” beseeched his A.D.C., “may we return to the subject of the

Archduke?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Wilhelm. “His bad temper frequently gets him into trouble,

for he possesses a complete disregard for anyone’s rights when they infringe on his own

whims. Hunting for Ferdie is his catharsis. He has a passion for slaughtering game and

I’ve seen him gloating over the agonies of dying animals. He shoots everything in sight,

male and female animals alike. He never gives any of his kills to the local people. He

shoots and moves on. I have watched towns people sneak up after he has gone away and

take the animals back to their homes.”
 

“On the other hand, Ferdie grew into a man with a strong and energetic personality.

He is intelligent and very, very religious. By temperament, he is excitable. He is selfcontained

and has few intimate friends. I consider him a friend, but not for more than a

few hours! Particularly after listening to him spout his Catholic beliefs.”
 

The special train slowed down as it approached the small station of Beneschau. Herbie

peered out of his window. On a nearby hillside rose a three-storied, gleaming white

Schloss, its huge double towers with its red conical roofs gave it a Grimm’s fairy tale

appearance.

“Excuse me Chief, I just wondered if Rapunzel lives in one of those towers brushing

her long golden hair!”
 

Eric stepped on Herbie’s foot.
 

Franz Ferdinand, accompanied by two colonels, waited at the train station. All three

wore full dress uniforms. The archduke’s blue tunic and kepi, was simple in design. His

medals were limited to a Saint Steven’s cross and a colored bar of awards. An honor

guard of a dozen dragoons stood at rigid attention. Each man’s uniform consisted of light

blue tunics, crimson riding pants, and highly polished black leather boots. Their gray

helmets looked like overturned flowerpots.
 

As the Kaiser stepped from the train, the officers snapped to attention. They held their

salute until returned by their guest. Medals and gold cord, down to the waist, clustered

Wilhelm’s field-gray Dragoon uniform. With his left hand, he grasped a gold-handled

sword. He sported a tan Pickelhaube topped with a golden Prussian spread eagle

embossed with Mit Gott für König und Vaterland.
 

Schornstein gave the Archduke the once over and was impressed with the man’s

strange appearance. First of all, his face did remind Herbie of a potato. His bushy

eyebrows and high forehead emphasized his deep-set eyes. From behind dark shadows,

bright blue eyes stared at the visitors. His full mustache remained stiff as he spoke

suggesting that he did not move his upper lip. His articulation was so rapid that he went

from one sentence to the next without a pause. Only an occasional cough interrupted his

train of thought.
 

The fifty-year old Ferdinand kissed the fifty-four year old Wilhelm on both cheeks

while shaking his hand vigorously. “Thank goodness you are here,” he whispered to his

cousin. “Willy, you are about the only person of authority that I can trust and with whom

I can get things off my mind. We will spend time tramping in the woods where there is

much game to shoot. You and I will renew our friendship!” Then the Archduke grabbed

his cousin tightly and kissed him several more times.
 

Wilhelm jokingly cautioned his greeter that if he held him any tighter, he might

become the new Kaiser of Germany!
 

A red-faced host loosened his grip and laughed at his own excitability. After

introductions, a chauffer led the group to two limousines.
 

The group settled in their automobiles, Ferdie and Willy in the lead car and the Aides

brought up the rear. The entourage moved slowly from the one-room railway station

down an elm tree-lined avenue. Cheering on-lookers lined the roadside. Most of them

waved Austrian and German flags.

Francis Ferdinand paid little heed to the boisterous crowd. Instead, he pressed

Wilhelm for information about his family. “What is Empress Dona up to and how are

your sons and your daughter? Have they bred you any new grandchildren? What schools

do they attend? How is everyone’s health?”
 

Wilhelm patted Ferdie’s hand. “Relax, old man, we will have plenty of time to talk

about such matters in the comfort of your home!”
 

From the railway station, it was but a short distance to Knopischt Schloss.

At the palace gate, the automobile came to a halt. An elegantly uniformed military

band blared music quite unfamiliar to the visitors. When the band concluded its greeting,

providentially a brief one, Franz Ferdinand told his chauffeur to continue on his way.

Once inside the palace grounds, the scenery changed into a new world. Peacocks strutted

around everywhere. Statues of Greek gods popped into vision every few yards. Diana,

goddess of the hunt retained a central place near the palace. In several odd-shaped ponds,

ducks and geese flitted about quacking as though the Archduke’s entourage intruded

upon their privacy. Several chained black bears lazed beneath trees in the nearby woods.

Nurserymen attended flower gardens that were in full bloom. Horses lay in the sunlight,

totally ignoring the noisy automobiles. Completing the scene were dozens of water

fountains, their crystal murmurs reminding one of life that is calm and placid. Each

fountain gave off different shaped outpourings. Some shot straight as an arrow into the

air forming plumes at their highest point and then plummeting back to their basin. Others

gracefully arched and flapped like the wings of a bird. Several sloped gently down and

formed cascading water falls.