Imperial Crypt

The air changes as you go down the steps. It is cooler here, and very still. Above you, the traffic of Neuer Markt fades. Down here, the loudest sound is often your own footsteps on the stone floor. The light is low and even. It falls across rows of dark metal coffins, some plain, some covered in crowns, skulls and weeping figures. You are now beneath the Capuchin Church, in the burial place of the Habsburgs.

This is the Imperial Crypt, known in German as the Kapuzinergruft, the Capuchin Crypt. For close to four centuries, members of the dynasty that ruled much of Central Europe were brought here when they died. Around 150 Habsburgs now rest in these vaults. They include a dozen emperors and many empresses, archdukes, archduchesses and children. Some of the coffins are taller than a person. Others are small enough to break your heart.

The story begins in the early seventeenth century with a woman, not an emperor. Empress Anna, wife of Emperor Matthias, left funds in her will for a Capuchin monastery and a crypt where she and her husband could be buried. Work began in the late 1610s. Anna and Matthias were laid here in 1633, after the church above was completed. Their simple coffins sit in the oldest part of the vault, called the Founders' Crypt. From that modest start, the crypt grew room by room as the family grew.

The guardians of this place are the Capuchins, an order of Franciscan friars known for poverty and simplicity. Their name comes from the hood, or capuche, on their brown habits. It is a striking pairing. One of the most powerful families in Europe chose to rest in the care of friars who owned almost nothing. The Capuchins still live in the monastery above, and they still look after the crypt today.

As you walk deeper, watch how the coffins change. The earliest ones are restrained. Then, in the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, they become theatre. This is the Baroque style, an art of drama, movement and strong emotion. Look at the coffins of Emperor Charles the Sixth and his family. You will see skulls wearing crowns, grim reminders that even emperors die. Many of these coffins are made of tin alloys and bronze, cast and engraved with great skill.

The largest object in the whole crypt waits in a domed chamber of its own. It is the double sarcophagus of Empress Maria Theresa and her husband, Emperor Francis the First. The sculptor Balthasar Ferdinand Moll designed it. On the lid, the couple sit up in bed, facing each other. An angel above them holds a crown and blows a trumpet, announcing the Day of Judgement. It is a tomb, but it also feels like a portrait of a marriage.

Maria Theresa ruled for four decades and had sixteen children. When Francis died suddenly, she wore mourning for the rest of her life. Stories say she came down to this chamber often to sit beside his coffin. In her final years, when she was heavy and unwell, she was said to be lowered into the crypt in a chair on ropes. Whether every detail is exact or not, the image has stayed with Vienna for centuries.

Here is a surprise many visitors miss. Not everyone in this crypt is a Habsburg. Close to the imperial couple lies Countess Fuchs, Maria Theresa's governess and close companion. The empress was so attached to her that she wanted her buried among the family. She is the only person outside the dynasty to rest here. Look for her coffin, and think about what it says about loyalty and affection in a royal household.

Another surprise is what is missing. For a long period, the Habsburgs practised a divided burial. The bodies came here to the Capuchins. The hearts were placed in silver urns in the Augustinian Church, near the Hofburg palace. The internal organs went to the ducal crypt beneath Saint Stephen's Cathedral. So a single emperor might be honoured in three places across the old city. It sounds strange today, but it reflected ideas of piety and power at the time.

The mood shifts again in the nineteenth century. The coffins become calmer and more classical, with clean lines. Then you reach the chamber of the dynasty's last long reign. Emperor Franz Joseph rests here, after nearly seventy years on the throne. Beside him lies his wife, Empress Elisabeth, the woman Austrians call Sisi. She was killed by an assassin in Geneva in 1898. Their son, Crown Prince Rudolf, whose death at Mayerling in 1889 shocked the empire, lies close by.

You will probably notice flowers on Sisi's coffin. Visitors leave them often, and ribbons in many languages appear here throughout the year. It is one of the clearest signs that this is not only a museum. For some people it is still a place of memory. Speak quietly here. Even with groups moving through, the chamber keeps a hushed, almost private feeling.

The crypt is not closed history. Burials took place in modern times. Empress Zita, wife of the last emperor, Charles the First, was buried here in 1989. Her son Otto von Habsburg followed in 2011. For these funerals, an old ritual was performed at the church door. A herald knocked and announced the dead person's titles. The friars refused entry. Only when the dead was named simply as a poor, mortal sinner did the door open. Power, the ritual says, stops at this threshold.

One more absence carries a famous story. Napoleon's son, the young Duke of Reichstadt, died in Vienna and was buried here among his mother's Habsburg relatives. In 1940, during the Second World War, his remains were taken to Paris and placed near his father. The Habsburg family's link to him, however, did not vanish entirely. Look at the guide panels, and you may see traces of him that remained in Vienna.

Before you climb back up, stand still for a moment. Look along the row of coffins, from the plain early ones to the crowded Baroque ones to the quiet later tombs. You are looking at a family history in metal. When you step out onto Neuer Markt, notice the light, the cafés and the noise of the city again. The empire is gone, but its rulers are still here, a few steps below the pavement.