And the Rest Is History by Marlene Wagman-Geller

suggested that this step might be dangerous; Oskar Potiorek retorted, “Do you think Sarajevo is full of assassins?” Nevertheless, Potiorek did concede that it would be better if Sophie remained behind at City Hall. However, she refused to do so, with the words, “As long as the archduke shows himself in public today I will not leave him.”
    In order to avoid the densely packed center of the capital, General Potiorek decided that the royal car should travel straight through the Appel Quay en route to the hospital. However, through an oversight, no one informed the driver of the change of plans. On the way, at the Latin Bridge, the driver took a right turn into Franz Joseph Street. At this point Potiorek told the driver he was going the wrong way, so the chauffeur put the car in reverse. In doing this, he slowly moved past one of the conspirators, nineteen-year-old Gavrilo Princip, who, having heard of the botched assassination, had gone into the Moritz Schiller Café for a sandwich. He was shocked that his targets had appeared directly in front of him.
    Princip rushed to the car, drew his pistol, and at a distance of five feet, fired several times—shots that were to ultimately claim seven million lives. A bullet hit Franz Ferdinand in the neck, and another lodged in Sophie’s abdomen, whereby she collapsed on her husband’s legs. He then said his last words to his first love: “Sopherl, Sopherl, stirb nicht ... Bleib am Leben für unsere Kinder!” (“Little Sophie, little Sophie, don’t die! ... Stay alive for our children!”)
    Princip’s actions ignited World War I, which would turn Europe into a graveyard. Viscount Edward Grey wrote of the catastrophe triggered by a fateful shot, “The lamps are going out all over Europe; we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.”
    When historians analyze the causes of World War I, they point the finger of blame at a blood-soaked street in Sarajevo. However, when romantics recall the fateful last ride, they view it as an immortal Balkan love story.
    Postscript
    The bodies of Franz Ferdinand and Sophie provided silent proof of the archduke’s devotion. The bullets that had pierced his wife had passed through his body first, as he tried to shield her from harm. The slain couple were returned to Vienna, followed by a joint funeral mass; Franz Joseph did not attend.
    The archduke, as a Habsburg, was buried in an ornate coffin, with pomp and circumstance befitting royalty.
    Sophie, because of her lesser status, was placed on a bier eighteen inches lower than her husband. On her casket was placed a pair of white gloves and a black fan, symbols of a lady-in-waiting.
    Their morganic marriage precluded her burial in the Habsburg imperial crypt; however, in deference to their love, they were interred in the crypt of their Austrian castle, Artstetten.

12
    Leonard Woolf and Virginia Stephen
    1903
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    T he adjective uxorious is defined as “slavishly devoted to one’s wife.” Leonard Woolf could definitely be thus described, as he was Virginia’s lighthouse throughout all her emotional storms and provided her with the light she needed to navigate through her darkness.
    Adeline Virginia Stephen was born into a family that would never remotely have qualified as typical. Her father, Sir Leslie, was an eminent man of letters (the widower of William Makepeace Thackeray’s daughter), and her mother, Julia (the widow of Herbert Duckworth), was a renowned beauty, a descendant of one of Marie Antoinette’s attendants. The Stephen household consisted of offspring from three marriages: Laura Makepeace Stephen; George, Gerald, and Stella Duckworth; and the four children Sir Stephen and Julia had together: Vanessa, Thoby, Virginia, and Adrian. Their home was also filled with guests whose names graced the most literary books of the times: