Imperial Requiem: Four Royal Women and the Fall of the Age of Empires (56 page)

There were of course many family and personal matters that had to be settled before his departure and we went through those first. Then my husband suddenly turned to the political situation and said:

“I leave with a heavy heart because when this war is over, whatever happens in it, this Austria-Hungary that I know and love will no longer exist. Either there will be two purely German Empires in the heart of Europe with a big Slav group alongside them. Or, more likely, the Slav group will be pulled to Russia and we in turn will be swallowed up by Prussia.”
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With Charles gone and Zita well into her third pregnancy, Hetzendorf Castle was closed down, and the archduchess took her two children to live with the emperor at Schönbrunn Palace. The war was also burdening her Bourbon-Parma relatives. Four of Zita’s brothers enlisted to fight. Princes Felix and René had lived most of their lives in Austria and were glad to take up arms to defend the Habsburg Empire. Zita’s other brothers Sixtus and Xavier were Frenchmen through and through. They enlisted to fight for France on behalf of the Bourbon family. They only discovered later that, as members of the former ruling dynasty, French law forbade them from serving in the armed forces. After appealing to their cousin the queen of the Belgians, they were allowed to serve in the Belgian military. The stance Sixtus and Xavier took caused Zita great distress. Since they were in Munich at the time they enlisted, and because they identified themselves first and foremost as Frenchmen, they were behind enemy lines and could be captured as prisoners of war. It took personal appeals from both Zita and Charles to spare Xavier and Sixtus from imprisonment. “I can understand that they only want to do their duty,” Franz Joseph remarked as he signed the order granting the princes temporary amnesty.
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On August 20, Zita and her family gathered together one last time before her relatives were expelled from Austrian territory. Prince Xavier recalled the emotional meeting: “A somewhat moving farewell. But Zita is very, very brave. She has tried to let us see nothing of her feelings … Charles said that just as it was his duty to join the army, so it was our duty to return to France. Where now are the days of Frohsdorf and Schwarzau?”
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They paid one last visit to their beloved Schwarzau near Vienna before her brothers left for Belgium via France. In the coming weeks, Schwarzau would be turned into a field hospital presided over by the Duchess of Parma, who was taking up a commission as a Red Cross nurse. At every doorway, in every courtyard, there were happy memories waiting to overflow in their reminiscences. In his diary, Xavier wrote about that last visit: “Mother acts just like Zita and tries not to show her feelings but it must be absolutely terrible for her.… And yet, sad as the evening was on the terrace at Schwarzau, we felt, as never before, how closely we belong together, bound to each other by indestructible ties.”
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As Europe marched headlong into war, Xavier could not deny that it was the bonds of family that held them all together, especially Charles and Zita. “That was how we felt then, when Charles and Zita married,” he remarked. “We swore then … to try and build a ring around them to protect them in these dreadful times, for we sensed what was coming. Now it is upon us … No more; tomorrow we set out.”
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15
“I Am an Officer with All My
Body and Soul”

(1914–15)

B
y 1915, the Entente was buckling under the onslaught of the Central powers. Though the Austro-Hungarian military failed in its early attempts to invade Serbia, the German war machine was finely tuned and highly effective. At the Battle of Tannenberg in East Prussia, German forces quickly routed their unqualified Russian counterparts. In the west, more French soil was being conquered every day. German troops succeeded in annihilating more than 230,000 French and British combatants in the first year alone. When German military forces drove the Russians out of East Prussia in February 1915, thanksgiving services were held in churches across Berlin. Wilhelm, Dona, and the Duke and Duchess of Brunswick attended a special service in the great Berlin Cathedral, located in the Cölln region of the old city. During the trip to the church, “the Emperor and Empress were enthusiastically cheered.”
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The truth of German successes, however, was less attributable to Wilhelm’s personal military leadership than to his generals. Shortly after the war began, the emperor was forced to surrender his powers as supreme warlord of the German military to Chief of the General Staff Helmuth von Moltke, a power-hungry bureaucrat who had been itching for war. Dona was horrified when she discovered Moltke had effectively stripped her husband of his prerogatives, turning him into a figurehead who merely represented the German war effort. By the second year of the war, Wilhelm had very little to do with the day-to-day combat planning.

The intoxicating patriotism that had swelled in Berlin in August 1914 dwindled as “the inevitable effects of conflict had slowly, invidiously crept across the German capital.” In the winter of 1914/15, Berlin’s citizens were forced to endure food rationing and fuel shortages. One Reichstag member was deeply worried by the menacing din that was taking hold: “A deep-seated discontent animated the masses of the population throughout the first winter of the war.” One city resident went even further in describing the enveloping sense of gloom and hopelessness. He wrote that Berlin was “enveloped in an impenetrable veil of sadness, gray in gray, which no golden ray of sunlight ever seems able to pierce, and which forms a fit setting for the white-faced, black-robed women who glide so sadly through the streets, some bearing their sorrows [for loved ones killed in the war] proudly as a crown to their lives, others bent and broken under a burden too heavy to be borne.”
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With Germany’s men being conscripted by the hundreds every day, the empire’s infrastructure began to suffer. Unlike Austria-Hungary, which had numerous ethnic groups to conscript into fighting, Germany (like Russia) was forced to glean its soldiers from all corners of society. This left essentials like transportation, municipal and federal services, and manufacturing sectors dangerously undermanned. Empress Augusta Victoria once again turned to the women of Germany to step forward and assume their role as valued, contributing citizens of the empire during this time. “Every German woman,” the government declared, “is a soldier in this economic war.” The burdens the people carried began to erode the Prusso-German national identity that had existed since 1871. For the first time in decades, the German military had not marched to a swift, resounding victory over its enemies. The existentialism of the monarchy’s link with the military led to a permanent shift in the attitudes of the German people toward the Hohenzollerns. Normal “events such as the 500th anniversary of the Hohenzollern house on 21 November 1915 and the normally well celebrated birthdays of the Kaiserin and Kaiser in October and January, respectively, received very little press, either in advance of the festivities or afterward.”
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Being left behind in Berlin’s maelstrom while the emperor was at the front was almost too much for Dona to bear. The sight of watching her people suffer gnawed at her constantly. The petitions she received from charities, church parishes, and hospitals increased exponentially. With Wilhelm gone, it was up to Dona to be the public face of the monarchy at home. One of the first things she did was to move her family out of the cavernous Stadtschloss into the more subdued Bellevue Palace, allowing the empress to save money on utilities, staff, and upkeep. Dona felt it was her responsibility to set an example for a more conservative, less lavish lifestyle while the war continued. The move to Bellevue also afforded her the chance to spend more time with her son Willy’s family, who were living in permanent residence there while the crown prince was commanding the Fifth Army. Their support proved vital in September 1915 when tragedy struck the Prussian royal family. Prince Adalbert’s wife, Adelaide, gave birth to a daughter on September 4. Named Victoria Marina, the princess died only a few hours later. This was a crushing blow for the empress, who could not bear to see any child suffer or die, let alone her own granddaughter.

The grief of Victoria Marina’s death, the separation from her husband, and the burdens imposed by the war overwhelmed Augusta Victoria. Added to this dangerous mix was her poor health. In private, she suffered from bouts of anxious depression. She also began showing symptoms of heart disease, yet another malady that ran in her family; her sister Calma suffered severely from heart disease for many years. Dona’s worsening health meant that her doctors were being called to Bellevue on a regular basis. They could see “that she had been suffering considerable pain and loss of sleep.” These very real pains in her heart and back, her increasing fits of anxiety, and the strain the war was placing on her marriage aged the empress well beyond her fifty-six years. Arthur Davis, her American physician, noted, “her hair had turned white many years before. It was commonly said, indeed, that the change had been brought about rather suddenly as a result of certain [drugs] she had taken in an effort to avert a tendency to avoirdupois [be overweight] which had developed.”
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Dona’s physical appearance was under constant scrutiny from her husband. He made sure she had a regular supply of diet pills to keep her figure trim because he loathed plump women. The diet regime proved successful if misguided. Dona’s slim waistline was legendary in royal circles. “Who would believe,” Wilhelm often asked, “that that woman had [seven] children.”
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Wilhelm was so concerned about her appearance that he maintained control of her wardrobe. He even designed many of her dresses himself, which he insisted she wear along with opulent rows of diamonds, wide hats he himself picked out, and sparkling jewels. In this way, he could control almost every aspect of the way Dona looked.

The war’s progression meant Dona was required to take on greater responsibilities than she had previously. She was almost solely responsible for managing the imperial residences, which at one point included fifty-six palaces and castles in the Berlin-Brandenburg region alone. She was also forced to contend with an increasingly unstable husband. Once he lost his title as supreme warlord, Wilhelm “veered between euphoria, fury and dramatic lows. One moment he would demand that his soldiers take no prisoners; the next he would declaim with his old grandiosity that if one German family starved as a result of the British blockade, he would ‘send a Zeppelin over Windsor castle and blow up the whole royal family of England.’ Then he would be plunged into depression and knock back sleeping pills. The entourage and Dona, committed to protecting the Kaiser and the senior generals, determined to stop him interfering and colluded to shield him from bad news and keep his faux pas to a minimum.”
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Each day, Wilhelm was still briefed on the war effort, but only on plans that had already been carried out. He was never informed of upcoming missions. Within two years, the war was barely mentioned to either the emperor or empress, who was growing desperate to see her husband spend less time at his military headquarters at Spa, near Liège in eastern Belgium.

To appease the empress as she helped the generals manage her husband, and to combat Wilhelm’s restlessness, the emperor was packed off between the front lines and Berlin. When Wilhelm was at home, Dona watched his moods change suddenly, usually for the worst. One member of the court felt that she too “often remained silent when she should have spoken her mind.” During lunch one afternoon, Dona took special care to have one of Wilhelm’s favorite meals prepared. When it was served, the emperor complained of the “monotony” at his palaces. Dona remained silent, while the household staff was forced “to bear the brunt of the Imperial displeasure.”
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On February 8, 1915, Archduchess Zita gave birth at Schönbrunn Palace to her third child. When the newest Habsburg child, a son, was christened two days later in the gold-and-marble Maria Theresa Apartments, he was given the name Robert after Zita’s father. Franz Joseph beamed through the entire ceremony, a sign of how proud and relieved he was to know that the Habsburg dynasty would live on after him through this next generation of healthy archdukes and archduchesses. Robert’s birth and christening came at a bittersweet period in Zita’s life. In March 1915, the Russians fought their way to a resounding victory by breaking through Austrian lines at Przemysl, which had been regarded as a veritable fortress. In addition to food, medical supplies, and ammunition, nearly 126,000 prisoners were captured. That week, Nicholas II made a surprise appearance at Przemysl to triumphantly congratulate his troops for their success.

More devastating for Zita on an intimate level was the news that, on April 15, Italy abrogated its alliance with the Central powers and joined the Triple Entente. The move came after the signing of the London Pact which, should the war end in a victory for the Entente, promised Italy the Trentino, South Tyrol, and much of present-day Slovenia. Many politicians and diplomats were not surprised by Italy’s decision because the country had long desired to claim Austrian territory. Eager to finally step up and claim its prizes, Italy declared war on Austria on May 23, 1915; they would not declare war on Germany for another fifteen months. In Vienna, there was a swift reaction. Public feeling turned sharply against Italy as Austria prepared to open a new front to the southwest. A few days later, Archduke Charles was sent to command troops of the Twentieth Army Corps on the front lines in an effort to stall an Italian invasion through what is now Slovenia.

Archduchess Zita now found to her dismay that her loyalties were even more divided than when the war began. She would forever be committed to Charles and Austria, but she could not deny her love for her native Italy, as well as her loyalty to France—before her marriage, she always signed her name as “Zite de Bourbon, Princesse de Parma.”
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The acute internal struggle she began to wage was perhaps even more difficult for her than the division within her own family. Ties with family could be mended, she reasoned; she and her brothers understood each other and remained inwardly loyal. But as the wife of the heir to the Austrian throne, who had brothers fighting for the enemy, Zita found herself accused of malfeasance. Around Vienna, she was slanderously called “the Italian woman.” When the Italians halted a major Austrian offensive in the Soca River Valley of Slovenia, people reasoned it must be because of the scheming Italian wife of their heir apparent. The ensuing retreat and trench warfare—known historically as the Isonzo front—continued for another two years, costing more than three hundred thousand lives. According to the rumors, Zita, “being Italian by origin, had undoubtedly betrayed the Central Powers by selling plans of battle and defense to the enemy; the retreat on the Isonzo and the disaster of the Piave [River] could be explained in no other fashion.”
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Of course, the facts that the archduchess was both a descendant of the Austrian imperial dynasty and was utterly devoted to her husband and adopted country were completely forgotten.

So too was an incident in September 1915, when the archduchess was visiting a military hospital in Innsbruck. According to the Italian newspaper
Idea Nazionale
, Zita stopped at the bedside of a wounded Italian soldier. After speaking for a few minutes to him in Italian, the soldier—who did not recognize the archduchess—asked her if she was from Italy. “I was born in Italy,” she replied, “where I lived until I was married, but as an Austrian I have nothing in common with a country which has lost her honor.” Incensed, the soldier pulled himself up in the bed and shot back, “We had enough honor left to declare war on Austria!” Zita’s reaction to the man’s statement is not known, but when he was later castigated for “having been disrespectful to the wife of the Austrian heir apparent,” he replied with equal indignity, “The Archduchess was disrespectful to the Italian nation, which was worse.”
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