BELGIUM: Death of Astrid

Along the edge of the Lake of Lucerne, from Lucerne to Kussnacht, runs a new macadam road two lanes wide, edged with an eight-inch coping of concrete. Every 50 feet there is a twelve-inch aperture for drainage. Every 100 feet there is an 18-ft. gap.

For days it had been raining in Switzerland. Leopold of Belgium and Queen Astrid, vacationing in the Villa Haslihorn near Lucerne, sent their three small children back to Brussels. But next morning the sun came out hot and strong, with the promise of a fine day for a mountain climb, a sport of which Leopold was just as fond as his father. Hobnail boots, ropes and alpenstocks were piled into the back of the royal Packard touring car beside the chauffeur. In front Leopold took the wheel while Astrid sat beside him, holding a road map. They started down the lakeside road, keeping close to the curb because the pavement was slippery. In a second it was all over. Just before reaching Kussnacht, with the car rolling along at 50 m.p.h. Leopold turned his head to look at the road map. The right wheels of the car slipped through one of the 18-ft. openings in the concrete curb. For some 95 feet it careened along, the right wheels at times three feet lower than the left. Then it struck a young pear tree, swerved at right angles. The Queen and the chauffeur were thrown clear. The car rolled down the bank, caromed off another tree and into the shallow water of the lake.

With his hands sprained, his lower lip slashed and a rib fractured, King Leopold crawled from the car and over to the body of his wife. He could see that she was already dead, her skull fractured, her chest gashed with broken glass. Aides following in a second car rushed hastily back for an ambulance while King Leopold, dazed and bloody, stood looking down at his dead Queen.

Before noon all Europe knew of the tragedy. In Brussels Premier Paul van Zeeland held an emergency meeting of the Belgian Cabinet, boarded a plane for Lucerne to take back the body. When the news was broken to Princess Ingeborg of Sweden, mother of Queen Astrid, she prepared to fly to Brussels. Overcome by grief, she was forced to cancel the flight, went on by train. In London the death of Astrid coincided with the announcement of the engagement of the Duke of Gloucester, caused King George to order the British Court into a fortnight’s mourning (see p. 19).

Only 18 months after the death of her husband, King Albert, Dowager Queen Elizabeth heard the news in Naples where she was visiting her daughter, Crown Princess Marie Jose of Italy. Her first move was to accept heartbroken King Leopold’s request that she take care of his three motherless children: Crown Prince Baudoin, 5, Princess Josephine, 7, Prince Albert, 14 months.

In the freight yards at Lucerne two special cars were hastily prepared, one for the body of Astrid, the other for Leopold alone. Dressed in a plain black suit, his jaw taped, his arm in a white sling, the King entered the car early in the evening, waited in the yards until the St. Gothard Express chuffed in from Milan. All through the night, as the train streaked across Europe, the King sat in his car with only his Premier and his secretary for company. Early next morning a squadron of cavalry led the body of Queen Astrid back through the streets of Brussels.

Sober little knots of people were gathering on the street corners, drifting toward the royal palace. Streamers of crepe, left over from the funeral of King Albert, appeared on all the balconies. Cafè orchestras put away their music, snapped their fiddle cases shut. Hour after hour the bells of Ste. Gudule Cathedral tolled, and the crowds waited patiently by the palace gate. From mouth to mouth stories of the dead Queen began to spread.

Astrid Sofia Louisa Thyra her name was, and she was 29. Her father, the Duke of Yastergotland, is brother of King Gustaf of Sweden; her mother is sister to Christian of Denmark and Haakon of Norway. One great aunt was Alexandra of Britain, another Dagmar, Tsarina of Russia. But no Queen ever lived more simply. All Brussels had seen Astrid time & time again wheeling her own baby carriage along the boulevards on a Sunday morning. Young Leopold as Crown Prince had gone several times to Stockholm to propose to her, traveling in a third-class coach to keep his incognito. There, after their engagement was announced, they used to sit in the public park holding hands.

The Queen of the Belgians lay in state in the black-draped “Tinkers Hall” of Laeken Palace last week with four generals as a guard of honor during the day, black-robed nuns to watch over her at night. Only her face was visible above the violet-strewn counterpane.

To the people of Belgium Premier van Zeeland last week broadcast:

“A single moment was enough for a tragic accident to sweep away everything —both the reality of the present and the promises of the future. Is there really some mysterious law that insures that everything that is the greatest, the purest, the most beautiful should last only for a short time?”

Half way round the world three days later another automobile accident brought death to another woman of importance— Anna Wilmarth Thompson Ickes, 62, wife of the Secretary of the Interior. The same enthusiasm which Secretary Ickes has for breeding dahlias, Mrs. Ickes gave to the study of the Amerindian. From Coolidge, N. Mex. where she had vacationed for the past ten years attending Indian tribal dances, Mrs. Ickes and a party of friends were last week on their way to Santa Fe to see more Indians. Near a filling station at a settlement known as Velarde the car, driven by one Frank Allen of Gallup, shot past another automobile at over 60 m.p.h., skidded in the gravel on the roadside, turned over four times. Mrs. Ickes’ skull was fractured. Driver Allen later died of a fractured pelvis and the other passengers, Mrs. Genevieve Forbes Herrick, onetime feature writer for the Chicago Tribune, and Ibrahim Seyfullah, Third Secretary to the Turkish Embassy, were critically injured.