It was not yet midday when news of the assassination in Sarajevo reached Emperor Franz Joseph. “Terrible,” he muttered. “It is not good to challenge the Almighty. A higher power has imposed an order that I myself could not keep.”
This confirms that, even after 14 years, he did not accept the compromise he was forced to make, but still considered a stain on his family honour. Crown Prince Franz Ferdinand was not his choice, but after the suicide of his son Rudolf, he had to accept it. The fact that Rudolf and his mistress, Maria Vetsero, had committed suicide was already considered shameful by the Emperor. His son had committed suicide! This did not indicate that the family trunk was solid.
But now, in his view, God has put things right with the assassination in Sarajevo. Franz Joseph was actually looking forward to having a new heir to the throne, Archduke Charles. He never made any secret of his love for his great-nephew, and this was in stark contrast to the coldness he showed towards Franz Ferdinand.
On that fateful morning of 28 June 1914, the hitherto almost unknown Archduke Charles, the twenty-six-year-old nephew of the late Franz Ferdinand, became the new heir to the throne. As the Emperor was already quite old, this could mean that Archduke Charles would be sitting on the throne of the Dual Monarchy in a few years’ time.
On this day, Charles and his wife Cita were at their country home in Reichenau, 50 kilometres west of Vienna. The couple were sitting in the garden having lunch when suddenly the new dishes stopped arriving. After a while, a butler appeared and handed the Archduke a telegram which read: “It is with deep sorrow that we inform you that His Imperial Highness and the Duchess have been assassinated today.”
Karel turned pale and didn’t seem to fully grasp what was happening. He and his wife immediately rushed to Vienna to see Emperor Franz Joseph, who took Archduke Charles by the elbow and said to him: ” I can count on you, can’t I?”
That’s settled now, Franz Joseph thought. But Serbia must be punished. Shooting the future crowned head is not an option. Hoping that the other European monarchies would not protest too much, as they might also be subjected to such a thing, Austria-Hungary won Germany’s support and sent an ultimatum to the Serbian government on 23 July 1914, hoping that it would not accept it under such conditions. Thus began World War I, as other European countries became involved in what Vienna hoped would be a local conflict.
But the first military setbacks came and Franz Joseph really suffered, and then the rogue Italian government took the side of the opponents, and suddenly the monarchy had three fronts open; the one in Galicia, and now the one in the Soča and, of course, the front against Serbia. Germany did help Austria-Hungary, but it was only a modest help, because its front in France did not move anywhere either.
Everyone around the old emperor marvelled at how well he had held up during these two years of warfare, and only his inner circle knew he was losing. He still had the strength to carry out the business of kingship, but by the time he retired for the evening he was extremely tired. In the first days of November 1916, his health deteriorated badly. He coughed more and more frequently, had fever and weight problems, and developed pneumonia. All this was wreaking havoc on his health.
Nevertheless, he did not change his working habits, even though it was obvious that he was tired. He found it difficult to concentrate during the conversation and his interlocutors had the impression that he was not following them. He had difficulty getting up from the armchair, which had not happened before. The excited courtiers therefore summoned Archduke Charles to Vienna just in case.
On 20 November, the Emperor’s condition was already critical and everyone feared the worst, but miraculously he recovered, got up the next morning, as was his custom, at half past four, and set to work. In the middle of the day, however, he could no longer get up from his chair and had a high fever. He sat down and received the heir to the throne, Charles, and his wife, Cita. When his daughter, Maria Valeria, came to visit him towards evening, he confessed to her that he was feeling very unwell. He was helped to bed by two lackeys. When they asked him what he was ordering, he said only: “Wake me up at half past four.”
He fell asleep and it was clear to everyone that the end was near. Family members were watching over the dying man. Franz Joseph was dying quietly, without any visible suffering. Suddenly he was seized by a violent cough, straightened up in bed and fell backwards. The doctor only pronounced him dead. His daughter Maria Valeria then closed his eyes.
Katharine Schratt, his friend of the last 30 years, to whom he had a deep love affair, was not at his bedside. But Archduke Charles, who knew what Katharina Schratt meant to the lonely Emperor, immediately summoned her to court. She came to the bedside of the deceased Emperor and, while praying, pressed two white roses into his hands.
Franz Joseph was buried only nine days later, dressed in the parade uniform of a Field Marshal. The Order of the Golden Fleece and the crosses he regularly wore were pinned to his shirt. For several days he lay on a field bed so that his subjects could say goodbye to him. After his transfer to the Hofburg, his body was placed on a catafalque in the court chapel.
On 30 November, he was taken to St Stephen’s Cathedral in a hearse pulled by ravens. After the Black Mass, the procession went to the Capuchin tomb a few hundred metres away. The new imperial couple, Archduke Charles and his wife Cita, walked slowly at the head of the column, accompanied by their eldest son and heir to the throne, Otto. In front of the Capuchin tomb, the prescribed ceremony began, in which the temporal power of the emperor bowed before the glory of God, and ended with the words, “I am Franz Joseph, poor sinner, begging for God’s mercy.” Only then was the Emperor’s corpse allowed to enter his final resting place.
Young years
Archduke Charles was born in August 1887 in Persenbeug Castle, eighty kilometres from Vienna. Here, among the winding vineyards and orchards, was the true cradle of the Empire. Karl’s father, Otto, was the nephew of Emperor Franz Joseph and never bothered with ruling, because he was more interested in pleasure than power. He married the niece of the then ruler of Saxony, Maria Josephine of Saxony. He may have loved her in his own way, but he suffocated in the relentless family atmosphere. The coldness that slowly crept into their marriage did not disappear even after the birth of their first child, Charles.
The couple moved around quite a lot, as Oto served in different garrisons. Young Karel was of pure character, as they were very careful not to let him spoil. But in 1894, the governesses had to withdraw their hands and the young man, who was the fourth possible candidate for the throne, began to be trained for new tasks. The upbringing was Spartan; rising at six in the morning, washing with cold water and then learning a number of subjects.
At the beginning of the new century, he and his tutors set off on a journey, first to various parts of the monarchy, then to Western Europe. In 1905 he entered regular military service in a dragoon regiment stationed near Bilina in Bohemia.
In November 1906, the early death of his father at the age of 19 brought him two lifetimes closer to the throne. He did not return to the garrison, but took up residence in Hradčany and continued his studies, which had been specially prepared for him. He came to public attention in 1911 when he became engaged to Cita, daughter of the Duke of Bourbon-Parma. Her fiancée came from one of those small countries of the Apennine stream which had disappeared from history when Italy was united into one country.
His betrothal increased the chances that his child, and not a descendant of Franz Ferdinand, might be crowned, since his marriage to the Czech Countess Sophie Chotek, which was unsuitable for court, had forced him to give up the possibility that his children would one day sit on the throne of the Dual Monarchy. This trap was set for him by Emperor Franz Joseph himself and, after much hesitation, the love-blinded Franz Ferdinand accepted it bitterly. From then on, his wife was relegated to the background during the many protocol events.
Cita’s father had already accepted the fact that he would never rule his young principality, as he had to flee abroad after the unification of Italy and lived on his estates in Switzerland, France and Italy, finally at Schwazau Castle, thirty kilometres south of Vienna. It was here that Karel and Cita first saw each other, both still almost in nappies, and fell in love as adults. It was also the place of the wedding ceremony, which was attended by the then 81-year-old Emperor Franz Joseph.
Shortly after his marriage, Karl was transferred to Vienna as a major. This was the end of the pressure of the miserable country garrisons and from then on they lived in the splendour of the capital city. It was here that Cita gave birth to the first of the eight children that would follow over the next decade. The birth of a male offspring only strengthened Charles’s position at court, and he was quietly imagined as a future monarch. As heir to the throne whose children would never sit on the throne, Franz Fedinand was very sensitive about this. Franz Joseph himself ensured that there were no serious complications by pushing Charles onto the political scene very carefully.
In early 1914, Franz Ferdinand invited Charles and Cita to dinner, and when the two men were alone afterwards, he turned sharply to Charles and said, “I know I am about to be killed. There are documents in this desk that concern you. When that happens, please take them. They are yours.”
Indeed, Franz Ferdinand had many opponents. While national pressures forced Franz Joseph to divide the once unified empire into two parts, Austrian and Hungarian, artificially creating a dual monarchy, Austria-Hungary, Franz Ferdinand was an advocate of tribalism, with a separate South Slavic entity as the basic unit of the monarchy. This would have reduced the importance of Hungary and increased that of Austria. A month later, Franz Ferdinand and his wife left on their last trip to Sarajevo.
After the assassination there, all eyes were on the funeral ceremonies, as rumours spread that Ferdinand’s wife, Archduchess Sophie, would be deprived of her rightful funeral splendour. Charles then approached the old Emperor and asked for “a little more of the ceremony” for the deceased Archduchess. But Franz Joseph was unbending and insulting to the deceased: “What would you like? I have ordered her to be buried with the same honours as my wife. She was murdered too.”
Over the next year and a half, Charles had to visit the battlefields frequently, and when he was not on the battlefields, the Emperor ordered him to resolve a number of matters. When the old Emperor died, the new one was only twenty-nine. He was young and without the great experience that had been Franz Joseph’s main asset, and so he had to face many problems.
The first thing he did was to have himself and his wife crowned King and Queen of Hungary. Fifty years later, Countess Karoly of Hungary recalled that day, 30 December 1916: “From the attic, where they smouldered for eternity together with the mothballs of naphthalene, we brought the ceremonial dresses of our grandmothers. All the houses smelled of camphor. I wore a dress of screaming red velvet, with ruffled sleeves and a train spangled with gold.”
For fifty years, Hungarian nobles longed for a sovereign who would give their city royal splendour and a true court life. Franz Joseph never forgave the Hungarians for the Revolution of 1848 and did not like them. Now there was hope that things would be different. The crown that was planted on Charles’s head was exactly the one that Pope Sylvester had sent to King Stephen for his coronation in 1000. The coronation cloak was woven in 1031 by Stephen’s wife Gizela, and the sword was to be worn by King Attila of the Huns himself.
This was followed by the solemn oath: “We, Charles IV, by the grace of God, Eternal Apostolic King of Hungary and its associated lands, do swear by the living God …” It was all very solemn. Charles mounted his horse and, like all Hungarian kings, galloped to the hill where the land was, which had been brought from all the counties of Hungary, swung his sword on all sides and promised to defend the kingdom. Then he and Cita returned to Vienna the same day, where he was faced with a host of problems which he wanted to solve by a change of personnel at all levels, in the officialdom, at court and in the army.
Sixtus affair
The war had been going on for 29 months and there was no sign that it would end any time soon, as neither side had achieved a military breakthrough. Charles was convinced that a separatist peace should be discussed. This attempt was called the “Sixtus Affair” in the history books, after the name of Cita’s brother Sixtus, who was the main mediator.
Charles and Sixtus, who was an officer in the Belgian army, knew each other and had essentially the same political views, although Sixtus was a Bourbon and as such always ready to serve for the glory of France. The initiative for the talks came, in fact, from both sides. Both Charles and the French wanted to talk about “all sorts of things”. French President Poincaré informed the Russian Tsar and the English Prime Minister, and Prince Sixtus obtained the consent of the French Government to go to Vienna.
Then it was like the best spy story. It was a gloomy morning on 23 March 1917. The weather was unusual for the time, as it had been snowing heavily for two days, when a car stopped not far from Laxenburg Castle. Four men, including Prince Sixtus, climbed out and began to walk along the unpaved path that led to the castle by the river. When they reached the great oak gate, one of them knocked. The porthole opened and a dark look came over them. Only when they had spoken the agreed password did the door creak open.
The Emperor’s confidant led them up the stairs to the Emperor’s chambers. They entered the great room, where a cosy fire crackled in the fireplace. The initial conversation, which also included the Foreign Minister Count Czernin, was stagnant, but then the atmosphere relaxed somewhat. Charles spoke first, saying that he wanted peace before Europe collapsed. He considered it a reasonable offer to return Alsace and Lorraine, held by Germany, to their homeland France, to restore Belgium as a kingdom, to give Serbia access to the Adriatic Sea and to wait for the Russian occupation of Istanbul, where a revolution was currently raging. All these promises were, of course, made without Germany’s consent, and the next day Sixtus was on his way back home with a written offer.
Now Germany had to be convinced. During his visit, Charles made it clear to Kaiser Wilhelm that the war had to be over by the summer of 1917, as Austria-Hungary was already completely exhausted. “If the two most powerful rulers of the Central Powers are unable to do it, their own nations will do it.” With this allusion to the revolutionary ferment in Russia, Charles wanted to say that something like this could happen here too.
But William was influenced by his generals Hindenburg and Ludendorff and by his successes in the U-boat war. “England will soon have to tighten her belt. In London you can no longer get potatoes for money or love. Time works for us,” he boasted.
The British Prime Minister David Lloyd George was also involved with the Charles Memorandum. The new French President, visiting England, greeted George in the harbour saying, “Guess why I have come. I bring you a letter from the Emperor of Austria.” The British man jumped up and said, “Because it means an armistice.” The Frenchman said reassuringly, “Not so fast again.” Of course, they agreed that an immediate reply could not be sent, because the Italians would cuckold if they did not get their piece of the pie.
On the evening of the 7th of May, Prince Sixtus again came to see Emperor Charles in the castle of Laxenburg. The weather was exceptionally fine on this trip and Laxenburg was bathed in the beautiful spring evening light. Both men were convinced that, despite the difficulties, a truce and even peace could be achieved. But the negotiations dragged on indefinitely, with Austria and Germany wanting to give as little as possible and England and France wanting to get as much as possible to achieve peace. In the end, even Prince Sixtus gave up and returned to his battalion in a bad mood, expecting a new offensive.
In 1917, Charles was at the height of his power, although it was very weak. Demands for a federal arrangement of the dual monarchy came from everywhere. In May 1917, Czech writers signed a manifesto which clearly stated that the Europe of the future would be made up of free and independent states. “The transformation of the Habsburg monarchy into a federal state made up of free and equal states is inevitable.”
On 30 May, the political leader of the Slovenes, Dr Anton Korošec, spoke in Parliament in favour of “the unification of all the lands in the monarchy inhabited by Slovenes, Croats and Serbs into one independent state, free from all foreign domination, democratically governed under the Habsburg scepter”.
Meanwhile, the situation on the front had somehow settled down by the end of 1917. On the Eastern Front, the Bolshevik leaders proposed peace negotiations. On the Soča front, the multinational army, sixty percent Slavs, held out despite heavy losses and then broke through the Soča front, driving the Italians to flee towards the Piave river.
But in 1918, the Empire began to burst at the seams under the weight of its burdens. It was becoming increasingly difficult to provide food for the population. Workers in all the industrial centres of the country went on strike. February was already a month of revolts. In Kotor, sailors mutinied and the red flag flew, the military band played the marshalla. The Imperial Fifth Fleet mutinied, the first mutiny in three and a half years of warfare. The mutiny was crushed because the mutineers forgot to take over the communications system and the officers, who were mainly Austrians and Hungarians, were able to call for help.
Forty-five rebels were court-martialled, five were sentenced to death and executed immediately. The problems in the army continued with a series of mutinies in the Styrian battalions. In March 1918, Germany launched a major offensive on the Western Front, which lasted throughout the spring and only came to an end in August. Initial successes dashed even the modest hopes of Kaiser Karl that an armistice and peace might be concluded. The Germans wanted to be victors by any means necessary.
The Dual Monarchy falls apart
Autumn 1918 marked the end of the 650-year Habsburg Empire. In June 1918, France recognised Czechoslovakia’s right to independence, and a group of Slovene clerical parties, led by Dr Anton Korošec, began to undermine their traditional leaders, who had been loyal to the Habsburg monarchy. A proposal for a democratic state of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs emerged. On October twenty-eighth, the National Council in Prague took power into its own hands. A day later, the Croatian Sabor met and broke off all contacts with Vienna and Budapest, and the National Assembly in Ljubljana did the same on 31 October. The Polish National Committee took over the administration of all Polish territories which had hitherto been under Austro-Hungarian administration, and their Ukrainian neighbours declared a Western Ukrainian Republic.
The final act of the empire’s collapse took place in the Sch ö nbrunn Palace in Vienna. It was once the home of Maria Theresa, where Napoleon spent the night in 1809 and where the last Habsburg Emperor, Charles, stayed in autumn 1918. He has just received a report that everything has collapsed on the Italian front. “How, just now?” he wondered.
There was almost no food left for the Austro-Hungarian soldiers. There were real skeletons in the rifle trenches, dressed in the ragged remnants of their uniforms, because they had not been issued with new ones for a long time. The new regiments resisted the order to go to the front, and those at the front wanted to go home. Some troops were already spreading out in the rear, looting state property, breaking into military stores, emptying factories and shops, selling military equipment and slaughtering their own horses. Discipline has completely slackened.
Emperor Charles was forced to ask the Italians for an armistice, but they rewarded his request with impossible terms. But these terms of truce had to be accepted, and Italian troops penetrated unhindered into the territory of the two-headed monarchy, taking what they had not been able to take in the fighting of 1915. The confused Austrian divisions just watched them silently, cut off from the main body.
The military debacle on the entire front line also meant that the imperial family was no longer safe in the capital, as riots were feared. The chief of the Vienna police insisted that the imperial family leave the city that night. On 9 November, something happened that they thought could not happen. Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany fled the capital, abdicated his throne and a republic was declared in Berlin. The next day, the revolution reached Schönbrunn.
Austrian politicians wave a document for Charles to sign, renouncing the Habsburg dynasty to all power, but not to the crown. Ministers rushed the Emperor from room to room in panic, begging him to sign at last. On 11 November 1918, just after midday, the Emperor did sign. It was time to leave Schönbrunn. One of the ministers later wrote about the atmosphere in the palace at that moment:
“The beautiful view across the park from the adjacent room does nothing to cheer me up. It feels like I’m on the scene of a historical tragedy, and not the best one. Then I spend three quarters of an hour at the Emperor’s. I have the impression that he is in complete control, that he knows what is going to happen.”
The Emperor decided to move with his family to a hunting lodge in Eckartsau, near Vienna. This was his personal property, not one of the palaces that could be declared state property. The Swiss and Dutch envoys offered him personal protection and an escort if he wished to travel abroad, but he refused. Meanwhile, it was getting dark and a light autumn fog had descended. They did not venture out of Schönbrunn by car through the main exit, but drove in through a side gate. They left Vienna by a winding road and arrived in Eckartsau at night. From then on, they were guarded by a small detachment of the Vienna police.
Going into exile
For the first months, events rushed past Karl, who was in the position of an observer. But he was not forgotten, because he was still theoretically the Emperor of Austria, and certainly still King of Hungary. On 12 November, the Austrian Republic was officially proclaimed. The next day, Hungarian political leaders arrived in Eckartsau to persuade Charles to renounce his right to the Hungarian crown in front of a witness. After a long argument, Charles did what he had done with Austria; he renounced his participation in state affairs, although Hungary remained a monarchy, but without a ruler, until the end of the Second World War.
There was not enough food for 50 people in Eckartsau, some of it was loaded and some was sent from Vienna by truck, although they were often robbed by gangs on the way. There was no electricity, no candles. Deserters and demobilisers roamed around the manor and looted, so those who went hunting were often accompanied by policemen.
But as a rule, one monarchy does not let another down. When King George V of England heard that Charles was in danger and distress, he sent an English officer to make sure nothing bad happened to Charles and his family. The tragic fate of the Romanovs, the Russian monarchy, probably had a significant influence on the English King’s decision. The English officer who was sent to Charles, Lieutenant-Colonel Edward Lisle Strutt , was a representative of the Foreign Office, as this was a political issue, and he left a very interesting diary of these events.
Strutt set off from Vienna in the snow on 27 February 1919. The road leading to the hunting lodge turned into a real swamp. The next day, a lorry brought two weeks’ worth of bread and petrol. Strutt spent the next few days inspecting the defences of the hunting lodge. There were ten armed men-at-arms, but not enough ammunition. There were also twenty servants, but they had no weapons, so they were armed with crepe knives.
Charles was still convinced that he had not abdicated, but had only withdrawn to preserve order in the country. “I am still Emperor”, he stubbornly repeated, dreaming that if the English sent him 5,000 men, with the officers still loyal to him and a few divisions of the old army, he could regain power.
Today, his pleas for British military help seem naive, but the times must be taken into account. Europe was worried about the spread of Bolshevism, which was slowly but steadily making inroads into Europe. On the other hand, the British in particular were convinced that they could not expect much benefit from a failed emperor. That is why, on 17 March, Strutt received an urgent machine-gun message from his Foreign Office: “We urgently advise you to get the Emperor to Switzerland at once.” A warning was added that “the English Government cannot guarantee safe passage”. Strutt was not entirely clear about the telegram and thought it best to go to Vienna and investigate.
There he discovered that the new government intended to resolve the issue of the Emperor’s presence quickly and without delay. The Emperor and Empress should renounce all rights and remain in Austria as ordinary citizens. If the Emperor refuses to abdicate, he should go into exile. If he does not like either of these two solutions, he will be interned. Strutt saw that he had little choice. He arranged for a special train to wait at Vienna’s Western Railway Station and called the Swiss embassy to allow the Emperor and his family to enter Switzerland.
The hardest thing was to convince Karl, but Strutt was persistent. “Your life and the life of your family is in danger. I have received instructions from London to take you to Switzerland.” Karl turned pale. To leave his homeland, perhaps for good! He said he had to consult his wife. But Strutt did not give in. You will have to shave off your moustache, put on my reserve uniform and take only one butler and one travelling bag. Then I will return from Switzerland and bring your wife and children.” “I am not going anywhere and I will not leave the Empress,” Charles stammered on, and only the Empress managed to persuade him to give in.
But Austrian Chancellor Renner sensed what was happening and demanded that the Emperor must first abdicate before he could leave the country. If he did not do so, he would be interned.
Stutt came up with a trick. He handwrote a postcard to London, put it in his pocket and made an appointment with Chancellor Renner. The latter read the text and turned pale. In it, Strutt wrote that Austria would not allow the Emperor to leave the country unless he abdicated, so England should reinstate the blockade and hold up all food trains bound for Austria. Of course, Strutt had no authority to demand such a thing, and if London had found out, he would have flown out of the army. But it caught fire. Austria was so short of food at that time that famine was feared. Finally, the Chancellor sighed and said, “Well, let it go.”
The twenty-third of March 1919 was the day of departure. The plan was slightly modified. Two trucks arrived in Eckartsau, loaded with the luggage of the Imperial Family and the suitcases of those who accompanied them. The two lorries then set off for Vienna. The Emperor kept a large box full of jewels, money and documents.
It’s time to leave. They said goodbye to the servants and piled into four cars. Before that, Strutt took an axe and a saw, cut down some poles and cut the wires of the Vienna-Bratislava railway. The train was waiting for them at the agreed place. It was raining and the weather was gloomy. Six English policemen with a second lieutenant were standing in front of the train. They all got on the train, and the Emperor appeared at the window and said, “Goodbye, my friends.”
The train has left. There were only 25 people on board. The Emperor and the Empress were having dinner in the dining car. During dinner, the Empress said to Strutt: “My Bourbon-Parma-Braganza family has been driven out of France, Italy and Portugal. I became an Austrian citizen by marriage. Now they have driven me out of here. So which country do I belong to?”
Strutt remained silent, Karel looked out of the window at the landscape, which glimmered in the evening darkness. They drove all night and arrived in Feldkirchen in the early hours of the morning. No one had passports, of course. But in Feldkirchen, a representative of the Swiss Government was already waiting to welcome them. The Emperor changed into civilian clothes, the train crossed the Rhine, left Austria and stopped in Buchs, Switzerland. The real exile had begun.
Charles’s departure from Austria was immediately followed by action by the new Austrian Parliament, which expelled the Habsburgs permanently from the country by law and stripped them of all private property. Convinced that he was being wronged, Charles informed some European monarchies that all such and similar laws were null and void.
He was deeply concerned about the fate of Hungary, which was his greatest burden during his reign, but now his only hope. In Budapest, governments and politicians changed, but finally Admiral Horthy rallied the nationalist troops in the south of the country and marched triumphantly into Budapest at the head of the monarchist army in November 1919. Politicians began to argue whether Charles was still King of Hungary or whether he had abdicated. No one wanted to give in, so the issue was postponed indefinitely. Hungary still remained a monarchy, but without a monarch, and the country was led by the Regent, Admiral Horthy, for the time being.
First attempt to seize power
At the end of the summer of 1919, Karel decided to return to Hungary, whether Horthy allowed him to or not. Colonel Strutt helped him. It was all very mysterious. Strutt was on holiday in Switzerland in February 1921 when he received a message that “someone” was coming to visit him. It was Kaiser Karl’s adjutant Schont, who told him that Kaiser Karl wanted to see him.
They took the train to Lausanne and then to Prangins, where Strutt met Karl in the park. He told him that he knew from reliable sources that the superpowers would not object if he went to Hungary to take over and restore order. But there was a great hurry and everything would have to be finished in March.
But how to leave Switzerland? Emperor Charles was a free man, but without a passport. Strutt just shook his head and asked him to change his mind or postpone the Hungarian problem for a year, when things would be clearer. Of course, no one informed Empress Cita, who was expecting a baby at the time.
On March 24th 1921, Charles crossed the Swiss-French border safely and headed for his homeland. Two years had passed since he had gone into exile. After that, everything unfolded like in the most suspenseful adventure novel. When he crossed the Swiss-French border, a car was waiting to take him to Strasbourg, where he took the train to Vienna and settled into a sleeper coupe, where a Spanish count was waiting to give him a Spanish diplomatic passport in the name of Sanchez. Now they both introduced themselves as Spaniards, wearing dark glasses, and did not speak to the other passengers, many of whom were Austrians, including a former minister of Charles.
The train arrived at Vienna’s station late in the evening and Karel mingled unnoticed among the passengers travelling for Easter. The two passengers hired a taxi, and as Karel had never taken a taxi before, he gave the driver 50 Swiss francs, an incredibly large sum of money for those days. The driver was suspicious and went to the police.
The hotels were all full and they stayed with a trusted former servant of Charles, Count Edody. They crossed the Austrian-Hungarian border without any problems, as Charles now had an English Red Cross passport instead of his Spanish one. They continued their journey by car and, when the car broke down, by horse-drawn carriage, and reached Sombotel. Nobody recognised them on the way.
In the evening, they stopped in front of the Bishop’s Palace, knocked and asked for a place to stay. The Bishop reluctantly agreed, as he did not like strangers in the house, and at that very moment the Hungarian Minister, Dr Vass, was visiting him. He did not recognise Karl, and when he was told who was standing in front of him, he was taken aback. It was a coincidence that Hungarian Prime Minister Teleki, who was now in great embarrassment, was also hunting near Sombotel. At last his superior was only Regent Horthy. So how should he behave towards Karl?
Colonel Léhar, the Army Commander of Western Hungary, also learned of Karl’s visit and immediately declared that the troops under his command were at Karl’s disposal. The beginning of the seizure of power was therefore promising. But Charles was driven to Budapest. All those who gathered around him persuaded him that the power-hungry Regent Horthy would immediately resign and hand over power to him once he knew that he was in Budapest. But Charles was in doubt that it would really go so smoothly. But should he risk civil war?
He decided to make a reckless move and travelled to Budapest without a military escort. But then everything went wrong. He arrived in front of the government palace in the capital, which seemed to have died out. Someone had been sent to fetch Regent Horthy and when he arrived, he unceremoniously said to Karl: ‘This is a real disaster. You must return to Switzerland immediately.”
Charles replied that this was out of the question and demanded that he hand over to him the power that was his as King. Hours of haggling ensued, as Horthy refused to leave empty-handed. He demanded a noble title, command of the army, estates and numerous decorations and titles. In the end, he declared that he was bound by his oath before Parliament and no longer by his former oath before Charles.
Charles was alone, the people he had counted on had burrowed into the ground and he was tired to death. He saw that he had to retreat, but he gave Horthy a three-week deadline to hand over power. He announced that he would return to Budapest at that time. This was his next mistake, because the moment he returned to Sombotel, his mission was doomed to failure. When Paris and London learned of his failure, they immediately denied any involvement in the failed attempt to seize power.
Charles stayed in Sombotel for another week, sending machine guns to all sides to secure support, while Horthy was only buying time. He closed the approaches from Sombotel to Budapest and set up nine checkpoints. Charles had to return to Switzerland. He was met on the Austrian side by three Entente officers with a small military escort to ensure his safety.
But the journey has not been without problems. Several thousand workers gathered at Bruck an der Mur railway station, threatening Charles and demanding that he abdicate his throne. Some shouted that he should be hanged. It was only when the military escort arrived with bayonets planted that the situation calmed down enough for the train to continue its journey to the Swiss border, where Karl’s wife was waiting for him. The first attempt to seize power had failed, but Charles was already planning the next one. He was confident that this time he would succeed.
Switzerland, as a neutral country, of course no longer allowed Charles’s subversive activities. He was restricted in his movements and forbidden to enter major cities, he had to renounce all political activity and was not allowed to leave the country without prior notice. The Emperor and his family were now staying near Lucerne in the castle of Hertenstein, as he was beginning to run out of money for hotel accommodation.
But his main concern was how to get to Hungary. The route through Austria was complicated and dangerous, as border controls were very tight. The Danube was also dangerous. The only option was to fly to Hungary by private plane. In 1921, flying by plane was still an adventure that few people undertook. Planes often broke down and emergency landings had to be made. But it was possible to arrive quickly in Hungary by plane and thus surprise the enemy. Surprise is half the battle, Karel was convinced.
His adjutant found a solution. Ad Astra had a nearly new single-engine Junkers aircraft stowed at Dübendorf Airport in Zurich, with room for six people in the enclosed cabin. Its owners had no idea who their customer would be. The plane was to be piloted by a reliable Hungarian pilot who had tested the plane before the flight. The Junkers was hired for a charter flight for Mr and Mrs Kowno to Geneva on 20 October.
Second attempt to seize power
The plan has been in the pipeline for several months. It envisaged that shortly before dark, Charles’s plane would descend on a meadow in western Hungary, owned by a count, an ally of Charles. Charles was then to ride to Sopron, where a special train would be waiting for him, on which soldiers loyal to him would also board. They would arrive in Budapest and Charles would march with the soldiers to the royal palace to arrest Horthy’s main men.
It was a risky plan, but it would have succeeded if there had been no unforeseen delays and if everyone had done what they were supposed to do. The Empress had decided to accompany her husband on this journey and no one could stop her. On 20 October, like Mr and Mrs Kowno, they drove to Dübendorf airport. By then the fog had lifted and the sun was shining. It promised to be a beautiful flight. They were both undocumented and had no documents for the plane.
Over Bavaria, the engine stopped once and the aircraft started to descend rapidly. During the descent, the engine started working again and there were no further problems with the aircraft. After 4 p.m., the pilot knew that they were in Hungary. They descended in the dark to a meadow. The agreed signal fires were not visible and Karel sensed that something was wrong. He later learned that the plane was not expected until the next day.
Colonel Léhar, the commander of the troops for western Hungary, who was loyal to the King, was also not informed of the day of his arrival and cancelled the assembly of the troops that were to go with Charles to Budapest for that day. This was a heavy blow for Charles, as the fate of his seizure of power depended on these very soldiers. The train to Budapest was not yet ready and he was out in the countryside picking sugar beet from the farmers. While the soldiers were collecting the wagons and throwing the sugar beet out of them, it was already clear that the surprise would be nothing.
In the morning, the train was finally ready. The royal couple, officers and soldiers boarded. Charles was confident that this time the plan would succeed. In some places, guards of honour were waiting for them at intermediate stations, flags were flying and shouts of greeting echoed. From one of the stations someone telephoned Budapest and Regent Horthy was warned.
He sent orders to the troops along the line to disable the line, but most of them ignored it or acted as if they had not been instructed. A few shots were fired, but no damage was done. The train was, of course, moving slowly, but the next morning, Sunday 23 October, it was already at Kelenföld , which was a suburban station of Budapest. Karel was on the verge of success, and then everything went wrong. Karel and his team did not know how to improvise, which would have come in very handy in the chaos of the time.
Meanwhile, panic reigned in the Horthy camp. The Regent had almost no troops at his disposal to counter the arrival of the Karlov train. Hungary had seen the collapse of the dual monarchy, revolution and counter-revolution in recent years and the country was in turmoil. Therefore, most Hungarians did not care whether Charles or Horthy was in power. Lying that the Czechs wanted to take Budapest, Horthy managed to gather a few hundred students, arm them and send them to Kelenföld, where they resisted Charles’s soldiers, who had a few dead and therefore retreated. Last but not least, some of Léhar’s officers also played a double role and came over to Horthy’s side at the decisive moment.
Charles decided to go to the front himself. If he falls or ends up captured, at least the matter will be over for him. The locomotive was disconnected from the train, a white sheet was hung on a pole, and Karel and Cita, with a few officers, drove towards the enemy positions to persuade the soldiers to come over to his side. But Karel misjudged the situation. If he had ordered a general attack, the student troops would have dispersed and he would have had free access to Budapest. The negotiations were a waste of precious time and ended in a ceasefire.
The next morning, Horthy’s new troops arriving from the provinces surprised Charles’s soldiers in their sleep and captured many of them. Charles was surrounded on all sides and bullets bounced off his wagon. “It’s all senseless,” he said, dictating the words of surrender.
France and the UK were the first to react to the news of the failed attempt to seize power, demanding that the Hungarian government ensure that Charles left the country safely. He was to be handed over to British naval units on the Danube and taken to the Black Sea, where he would be put on board a British cruiser.
A British military motorcycle was moored at a large bridge over the Danube, boarded its passengers and slowly sailed down the Danube. By early morning it had passed Belgrade and by afternoon it was in Moldau. From here it was necessary to continue by train to Galatz. Here they boarded a Romanian steamer which took them to Sulina, where they landed alongside the English cruiser Cardiff, which shortly afterwards left for Istanbul. After an intermediate call at Gibraltar, the Cardiff landed in Madeira on 19 November. The island was the last refuge of the former Emperor and Empress of the Dual Monarchy.
He died sick and poor
The last chapter of the former Emperor’s life has begun. For the first time in his life, he had to taste relative poverty. The British government granted him an annual annuity of £20,000. But how to raise this money? It was to be collected by the former members of the monarchy – Poland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia and Romania – but they refused to pay.
In his distress, Charles decided to sell his jewels. But those he had given them to in his custody stole them from him. On 1 November 1918 – just days before the end of the monarchy – a large part of the family jewels were taken to Switzerland by Count Berchtold and placed in a safe deposit box in a Zurich bank. Bruno Steiner, the lawyer entrusted with the sale of the jewels, disappeared. He was found in a hotel in Frankfurt, but he fled from there too and was never seen again.
Karel and his family had to move out of the villa they were living in because the rent was too high. He accepted an offer from a landlord in Madeira, who offered him the use of a small villa high above the bay, free of charge. It was ideal for living in during the hot summer months, but in winter it was damp and cold and smelt of mould. There was no electricity, only water in the kitchen. The journey to Funchal was long and tiring and took all day to get there and back. Charles caught a cold, got a fever and had to go to bed.
The doctor was not called for a week. In March, his fever was already 40 degrees and pneumonia had taken hold of his weakened body. He began to glow, speaking some Latin and some German, and recalling the events of the past. Death was no longer far away. He died on 1 April 1922, a little after midday. His face was calm, his hair completely grey, although he had only lived to be thirty-five.
