History in the (un)making

Yesterday I went to the Ring to watch the kilometre-long funeral procession of Otto von Habsburg, who died on July 4th. Why, you ask? why, because of the hats of course.
DH, being uninterested in hats unless they're on his or my head, was not enthralled by the idea of attending a funeral of some guy who predates local democracy. Some newspapers agreed. Is there any excuse in a republic for what looks suspiciously like a state funeral?

Despite DH's naysaying, I didn't want to miss a moment in history, or, rather, laying history to rest: the Habsburgs ruled from 1282 to 1918, although the family dates from the 10th century. So the death of the son of the last Emperor of Austria marks the end of a period of more than 600 years of rule.

I found it fascinating, a glimpse into a historical world of pomp and power. The funeral cortege wended through the inner city from the Requiem in Stephansdom, down Graben, Kohlmarkt, through the beautiful Hofburg arches, Heldenplatz, turning onto Burgring to the Opera, from where I watched it turn back into the First District to end up at the Kapuzinergruft, where Otto von Habsburg plus his wife but minus his heart, will be laid to rest. The heart goes to Hungary, to be interred there as family tradition would have it.

Some extra fascinating tidbits:

ooohhh, ahhhh!
plenty of Europe's royal families were in attendance, although I could only place Karl Gustav, king of Sweden, and only because someone behind me said hey! there's the King of Sweden! I'm following true to myself here: I have met/seen rather a lot of famous people and I seldom recognized them. When it comes down to my little socialist heart, people just, kind of, look like people. Perky little fuzzy puppies? Them, I notice!

follow your heart
already mentioned the heart: body goes with wife (she had to be brought along I guess, since she was buried elsewhere when she passed away last year and was reburied with him Saturday. Follow your heart ain't a philosophy for him, I guess, since his is in Pannonhalma, Hungary, in a Benedictine monastery.

they don't know him (either!)
when brought to the Kapuziner-Kirche (yes, where we get the name cappuccino, if not the brew)there is a wonderful tradition, where the church is asked three times by the master of ceremonies, "Wer begehrt Einlass?" (who desires entry?). The first reply begins with all the titles--in this case, "Otto von Österreich, einst Kronprinz von Österreich-Ungarn, königlicher Prinz von Ungarn und Böhmen, von Dalmatien, Kroatien, Slawonian",yada yada yada for several paragraphs; the priest replies coolly, "Wir kennen ihn nicht" (we don't know him).

The priest asks again, "Wer begehrt Einlass?" and this time, the answer is all of his accomplishments: "Dr. Otto von Habsburg, Präsident und Ehrenpräsident der Paneuropa-Union", blah blah blah for a few long sentences. The priest remains unimpressed, and says again, "Wir kennen ihn nicht!".

For the third and last time, the priest asks, "Wer begehrt Einlass?". This time, however, the answer "Otto--ein sterblicher, sündicher Mensch" (Otto, a mortal, sinful human) and finally the answer comes: "So komme er herein" (so let him enter).
Equal in death.