The Second Wirth Cabinet (2): The Royal Funeral
The Foreign Office conference room was deathly quiet. It looked no different from the day before, but in truth, every staff member was entering it already thinking of it as the minister's office.
October 24, 1921—one day after the cabinet's collapse had been declared—and nothing had changed much. At least, not on the surface.
Knock knock. A knock echoed at the door.
"Come in."
Konstantin von Neurath entered with a stack of documents. His expression was grimmer than usual.
"...Deputy Minister, a telegram from Geneva."
I extended my hand wordlessly, and he handed over the paper.
"...They're instructing us to vote in favor of the Upper Silesia partition agreement at the next session."
"Should we report this to the Chancellor?"
I slowly set the document down.
"What about the British?"
"They're maintaining a reserved stance. But they don't seem inclined to oppose the French proposal."
I'd hoped for even a slight delay, but the telegram dashed those hopes. I sighed, yet found it hard to speak easily.
With coalition talks underway, breaking this news could shatter any alliance with the Democrats or People's Party.
"How far along are the supplementary submissions?"
"We've already filed the economic data and industrial distribution reports. However..."
"However?"
"Regarding the request for further review, the League has preemptively conveyed that it's 'sufficient.'"
I fell silent for a moment. I knew exactly what that meant.
They wouldn't tolerate any more delays.
Even if I dragged my feet, the outcome wouldn't change.
I slowly set the document down.
"When is the session scheduled?"
"Likely early November."
I nodded. Time was short.
"Deputy Minister. We should report to the Chancellor—"
"I'm going now."
I cut him off before he finished. A brief silence followed, and I rose from my seat. The scrape of the chair echoed sharply in the room.
"There's no reason to delay any longer."
I offered no further explanation and headed for the door.
"Inform the League that we accept. Handle it that way."
Joseph Wirth said this, rubbing his forehead. I nodded and turned to leave.
"Ah, Deputy Minister."
I turned back at his call.
"Yes, Chancellor."
"Are you planning to attend the funeral?"
I tilted my head at his words.
"Don't you know?"
"I don't know which funeral you're referring to."
Wirth looked surprised at my response.
"Bavaria's Ludwig III passed away recently. Didn't you hear?"
I was momentarily at a loss for words.
"...Ah. I must have missed the news."
Since joining the Foreign Office, I'd barely left the office, so it wasn't surprising that outside news reached me late.
Wirth watched me for a moment, then continued slowly.
"The government has no intention of sending anyone officially. There are several issues, and the Bavarian state government is debating whether it's a state funeral or not."
I nodded quietly as I listened. Considering Bavaria's mood, the decision made sense.
"So no official attendance."
He drew the line there, paused briefly, then spoke again.
"That said, we won't stop anyone from attending in a personal capacity."
I understood the implication immediately. No explanation was needed for who that "personal" attendee would be.
Wirth added, gauging my reaction.
"You... have ties to that side, don't you?"
I said nothing for a moment. It was undeniable.
A member of the republican cabinet, yet also of the imperial family.
"...If the Chancellor suggests it, I won't go."
I asked quietly, but Wirth shook his head.
"I've heard funerals carry great significance among the nobility. I think you should go."
The words were brief, but the intent clear.
I thought for a moment, then nodded.
"...Understood. I'll attend."
Wirth said no more. He merely glanced back at his papers and gave a tiny nod.
Munich's atmosphere was somewhat chaotic. Supporters of the Independent Social Democrats kept plastering posters denouncing the Wittelsbach family, setting a strange tone from the start.
There were more people in bowlers than in uniforms, and with the scant State Defense Force personnel deployed thickly, the mood felt somewhat oppressive.
Yet the funeral procession itself proceeded with astonishing order.
The coffins of the king and queen rode on traditional hearses drawn by six horses each, winding slowly through Munich's main streets.
Crowds lined both sides of the road in numbers too vast to count. Amid the silent onlookers, occasional hat removals dotted the scene, some bowing deeply.
I paused and took in the sight.
"What do you make of it, as an imperial figure?"
Someone approached and spoke beside me.
"Impressive, but as a republican official, I can't help but view it warily."
I replied, turning to him.
"And who might you be?"
"Have you forgotten me already?"
A man with clinking medals, ornate Austrian uniform, and a thick mustache smiled oddly at me. A familiar face.
"You don't remember. Joseph August von Österreich—Archduke of Austria. Does that ring a bell?"
The name clicked. Joseph August von Österreich, the Austrian archduke. I recalled only that he'd briefly served as regent of Hungary late in the war.
I nodded curtly.
"...Somewhat."
He smiled faintly at the answer—not fully satisfied, but not displeased.
"That'll do."
I said no more. Prolonging the talk would only expose my ignorance.
To change the subject, I asked quietly.
"How is His Majesty Karl I faring?"
"Ah, His Majesty... Well, if you haven't heard, that's understandable."
Joseph glanced aside as he spoke; the procession was passing right in front.
The crowd's eyes remained fixed there. He paused in silence, then continued.
"It's hard to say he's doing well."
I stayed silent, not pressing him.
After another pause, he spoke lowly.
"He made an attempt earlier this year."
He continued quietly.
"To return to Hungary."
I nodded briefly. I knew of it.
"The result..."
He trailed off unnecessarily; I already knew.
Joseph exhaled shortly and went on.
"He's essentially confined now. The Entente's watchful eyes, the neighbors' scrutiny..."
He shrugged slightly.
"It's not easy for him to move."
Gazing at the procession, I said,
"I see."
A curt reply. Joseph eyed my reaction.
"You're calmer than expected."
"Because I know the feeling."
A light toss-off, but Joseph stared at me briefly, his gaze different now.
"Is that so."
He gave a short laugh, but it held no levity—rather, a trace of contemplation.
"Hearing that from a republican deputy minister feels oddly surreal."
I didn't react, keeping my eyes on the procession.
"A change in views doesn't erase all emotions."
Joseph fell silent at my words. The quiet stretched.
Then he spoke again.
"In that case..."
He hesitated, then asked,
"If His Majesty tries again, do you think the outcome would differ?"
I didn't shift my gaze. This wasn't mere hypothesis.
After a moment's thought, I said,
"There's a reason you're telling me this."
Joseph paused briefly—a heavy silence.
"...His Majesty."
He said lowly.
"Few can free him from the Entente's grasp."
I blinked but listened on.
"In his current state, he can't move. Watched wherever he goes, constrained in every choice."
He continued slowly.
"But it's not impossible."
He met my eyes directly.
"You could. You, in Germany's Foreign Office. Lowest in the imperial family, yet higher than any royal in the republic."
A short silence. I didn't avert my gaze.
I wanted to refuse outright, but the words stuck.
Steadying my breath, I asked,
"Failure would hit me hard too."
Joseph's face hardened ever so slightly. He said nothing for a moment. The procession advanced; hooves clopped lowly.
He drew a breath, then spoke.
"...His Majesty would risk anything to return."
I shook my head faintly.
"That's not an answer."
I cut him short. Joseph looked at me squarely now, unyielding.
"Then I'll say it plainly."
His voice was low but firm.
"I'll devote my life to you."
I shot back immediately.
"Why should I believe that?"
"Failure ends me—and His Majesty—utterly. But staying put changes nothing."
I said nothing. No exaggeration there. His eyes held no hesitation—pure resolve.
The words of one who knew, better than most, that without a true king, he was nothing.
I stood silent, possibilities and risks flashing through my mind. Britain, France, the Entente.
This wasn't simple diplomacy. Botch it, and I'd lose more than my office—politics forever.
Yet calculations spun on cards Karl's restoration could yield.
A chance to become a bipartisan figure...
Enormous risk, but immense reward.
I exhaled slowly, dipping my head faintly before lifting it.
"...I'll think it over."
A brief reply. Joseph asked nothing more, merely nodding.