The New York herald., 1922-06-11

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Exterior view of the Capuchin
Monastery at Vienna, where
the Hapsburgs are buried.
to retain his throne; that he had
been only temporarily absent from it,
and that if he had died in exile at
Madeira 1t was solely because the Powers
of the Entente threatened invasion. All
the Kings Of Hungary lie in the Church
of the Capuchins; the old time Kings Of
the Magyars lie at Jamesvar.
My imagination played me many tricks
during the long vigil. At times I seemed
to see the lid OF the casket of Marie
Fuchs rise as If the occupant would see
how her imperial mistress was resting.
At other times / conjured Rudolf and
his sweetheart dying together in the
hunting lodge at Meyerling, and it seemed
as if the ''Eaglet" kept breathing in my
ears his last words, II die, and my
fathers memory unavenged.' And then
it seemed as if the five vowels of the
English language were dancing before
my eyes, "A e I o u" which are also
the Latin initials for "It is Austria's
destiny to rule the whole EARTH"
At last z o'clock came and / heard the
bell toll the Angelus. It was a great
relief and I ate my last sandwich, con-
fident that soon would be released. My
intention was to hide in the same place
and as the crowd went out to mingle with
them and make my exit safely. looked
constantly at my watch, counting each
minute. The noon Angelus rang and
still the vault was not opened. was in
despair, and as the afternoon waned I
went to the massive door and tried to
open it. But it was useless. I went to
the prie-dieu which stood before the
casket of the Emperor Francis Joseph and
Elizabeth and happily found missal.
1t was modern missal, left there for
the use of the monk who offered prayers
at intervals before the collins of the three
most unfortunate members of the House
of Hapsburg. The Empress Elizabeth
left small fortune for masses to be said
daily for herself and Rudolf and while
these were invariably said in the vault,
the occurrence of a holy day such as the
Feast of the Assumption, prevented the
monk from entering the place of the dead
l found in the preface calendar of NOV
able feasts and discovered. that the holy
day was the Feast of the Assumption.
No wonder the tomb was closed. l was.
there for another night The mental an
guish I suffered was poignant. really
felt afraid Of the silence. Each glittering
casket was menace. Each occupant
seemed to cry from beneath the lid how
dared I enter their exclusive abode to tell
the outside world how they slept. could
not help recalling the hundred tragedies.
of their once great house. The knowledge
that the caskets held just the dead
brought me no comfort. There was the
smell of decay beginning to be felt, the
partial exclusion of air. l was compelled
to use my torch sparingly, and once when
I was in tremor I suddenly filled my
fashlight/ apparatus and set off flash
just to reassure my spirits, which were
at such low ebb, that IL the places had
been infested by rodents / should have
screamed.
However, the long night passed and
just as the Angelus rang the doors
opened. A monk entered with an old
fashioned whisk broom of heather. He
shifted the air and boldly advanced to the
center vault, where the priedieu was.
I was hidden from him and while he knelt
in prayer l ascended the steps with my
plates safely hidden under my coat.
AS l stood outside, inhaling the air,
another monk approached and asked me
in German If I wished to visit the royal
tomb, but / thanked him profusely and
fled gladly to my lodgings, thankful there
was not another feast day that week in
the calendar.