Death: The Imperial way

By Joseph L. Garcia, Senior Reporter

DURING a trip BusinessWorld took to Vienna in October, the Austrian capital felt like the setting of a fairy tale. Across our hotel at the Neuer Markt square (the new market, but it had been so since the Middle Ages) stood the shop of A.E. Köchert, jewelers to the Habsburgs, the former Imperial dynasty of Austria (and once, the Holy Roman Empire). Their windows displayed diamond tiaras, while street performers nearby sang arias, and waltzed with their audience. Bells from St. Stephen’s Cathedral woke the square, populated by old-world shops filled with only one specialty: fur, or silver, or stationery.

Every fairy tale has an end, however, and for the rulers of the House of Habsburg, they were reminded of this by the Kapuzinergruft, the Imperial crypt. Located in the same Neuer Markt square (it was a two-minute walk from our hotel), this is where members of the Habsburg family were laid to rest. Oddly enough, it’s a mere seven-minute stroll from their once-seat of power, the Hofburg Palace (aside from being a museum, it also houses the offices of the Austrian president, now Alexander Van der Bellen). The Hofburg Palace complex also holds their treasures at the Schatzkammer (the Imperial Treasury), for all to gawk at and see — at least one thing is true: you really can’t take it to your grave.

The Habsburg dynasty once ruled over several territories beyond their capital in Vienna, which now constitute a large chunk of continental Europe: most of Germany, the modern Czech Republic, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Luxembourg, Switzerland, and so much more — all united under the Habsburg crown. A succession of wars broke up the empire over the years, concluding in the Napoleonic Wars, which ended the Holy Roman Empire and gave birth to the Austro-Hungarian Empire — later to be dissolved, along with Habsburg rule, in the ashes of World War I. No matter — while pieces of the empire were lost in war, the Habsburgs maintained their influence over most of Europe through strategic marriages, hence the family motto: Bella gerant alii, tu felix Austria nube (“May others go to war, you happy Austria, marry”).

The Kapuzinergruft, maintained in perpetuity by the Capuchin friars, was founded in 1618 by Anna of Tyrol, wife of the Habsburg emperor Matthias. Their coffins, made of lead, are among the first you see once you enter the crypt — but then there are so many tombs (about 150), it really depends on where your eyes rest first. To see the tombs of the Habsburgs, one pays about €8.50. Since the crypt is still a working church and monastery, guests are told by a sign to keep their voices down, not to take videos or photos with flash, and not to touch anything. During our visit on Oct. 12, there was just one other hushed tour group, wearing headsets, while a priest guided them through the tour, speaking in low tones into his own headset.

We skipped over some Habsburgs (sorry), and went to the tomb holding Empress Maria Theresa and her husband, Franz Stefan I, Holy Roman Emperor. Empress Maria Theresa (who died in 1780) and her offspring changed much of the world: she introduced education reform across her dominions, and united them all under one code of laws in her name. Her son, Joseph II, expanded upon these reforms and introduced legal freedom to the serfs in 1782, ending serfdom in most of Europe (and in a way, nudging in the Industrial Revolution). His successor, younger brother Leopold II, fought against the French for his sister, Marie Antoinette, trapped in the French Revolution. His son, Francis, continued this battle into the French Revolutionary Wars (he failed to save his aunt from the guillotine, and wasn’t very much interested in doing so, according to accounts), later evolving into the Napoleonic Wars. The resulting Congress of Vienna helped shape Europe as we know it today.

Maria Theresa and her husband’s tomb stands in the center of a vault: impressive, large as a small ship, beneath a dome where sunlight streams in. Veiled spirits guard her baroque tomb, and amidst all this splendor, a skull: a reminder of what we all turn into after death, no matter how great the life led (it is, however, still a skull wearing an imperial crown). Her successor, Joseph, lies in front of his parents, in humbler style, as per his own wishes: the inscription on his plain tomb is almost faded, reading: Hier liegt ein Fürst, der trotz der besten Meinung keiner seiner Pläne durchsetzen konnte (“Here lies a ruler who, despite his best intentions, was unsuccessful in all of his endeavors”).

His wife Isabella’s tomb, by a corner, changed the world in its own way, affecting the Habsburg matchmaking game. Archduchess Josepha was forced by her mother Maria Theresa to pray for her sister-in-law in the crypt. According to accounts, Isabella’s tomb was improperly sealed, and her body infected her sister-in-law with smallpox, which later killed her. With the death of Archduchess Josepha, earmarked as a bride for Naples, her sister Maria Carolina, intended as a bride for France, took her place, and in turn, younger sister Marie Antoinette was sent to France. No smallpox, no Marie Antoinette, no Napoleon, no Congress of Vienna, no Austro-Hungarian Empire, no World War I — and perhaps, little of the conflicts we see today.

We saw other Habsburg tombs: there’s Marie Christine, Maria Theresa’s favorite daughter, and everyone’s least favorite sibling (Marie Antoinette did not invite her to the Petit Trianon during a state visit), whose art collection forms the backbone of the Albertina Museum, also close by; Maria Carolina, Marie Antoinette’s favorite sister, also ousted from her throne in Italy. After seeking familiar names from that chapter of history, we went to the tomb of Empress Elisabeth, another Habsburg celebrity.

Her tomb shares raised space with her husband, Franz Joseph, and her son, Crown Prince Rudolf, though her husband the Emperor’s tomb is raised in the center a few feet above his wife and child. Elisabeth, affectionately known throughout the world as Sisi, captivated the Belle Epoque world then with her beauty, her style, and her melancholic life. Stylishly thin because of an eating disorder caused by the impact of imperial and family life on her mental health, she moved across Europe to avoid staying in the imperial capital of Vienna. Assassinated in 1898, her life and death are the subject of numerous movies, musicals, even a cartoon. The most recent showcase of her tragic life and its influence in pop culture was most recently seen in 2022, with The Empress streaming on Netflix.

Her tomb is not lonely. Again, she spares space with her husband and son (who died in a mysterious suicide in Mayerling) — but to this day, offerings are laid at her tomb. We saw flowers, a framed photograph of her, and drawings by children telling her they loved her.

Other Habsburgs of her own age are also strangely honored: her brother-in-law, Maximillian, is buried in the Kapuzinergruft as well. Mexican flags and other souvenirs from the country are laid at his tomb, despite failing to successfully rule the weak, newly established Mexican Empire. For this, he was executed in 1867 by forces led by Benito Juarez (which led to the modern state of Mexico). His wife, Charlotte of Belgium, mourned him to the point of insanity — she died a recluse in 1927, outliving the empires that shaped her world.

There are tombs of a relatively new make, still retaining their bronzed sheen. They are conspicuous in their newness: the tombs of the family of Karl, the last Emperor of Austria, who died in 1922. His wife, Zita of Bourbon-Parma, died in 1989, and was laid there to rest. After the dissolution of the Empire, the Habsburgs were exiled from Austria and banned from returning until fairly recently. The ex-Empress was allowed entry only in 1982. After her death, she was declared a Servant of God by Pope Benedict XVI, putting her on the path to sainthood (which probably explains the floral offerings at her tomb). The most recent entombment was just last year, in 2023, for Princess Yolande de Ligne, the widow of Archduke Carl Ludwig of Austria, a son of the last emperor.

We take some comfort when we are told that in death, we are all the same. Judging by the resting place of the Habsburgs, are we sure that’s true? Some graves lie forgotten, while some are cared for by priests, centuries on; flowers laid at their tombs, their names still whispered with reverence. There will be no souvenir shops with skull keychains and books about me when I die, that’s for sure. But the map to the Kapuzinergruft argues: “Those who believe that the wealthy and powerful have erected a final monument of their vanity stand corrected: beauty and splendor are strongly contrasted by bare bones and toothless skulls. Above all there is a reminder that death can strike everyone — regardless of age or rank — at any time.”