I was born in Brooklyn on June 28, 1926, the 12th anniversary of the blowing up of archduke Ferdinand of Austria.
They knew the Bosnians had targeted the Austrian archduke Ferdinand.
A century ago today, archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary embarked on his fatal journey to Sarajevo.
So the bullet that Gavrilo Princip fired at old archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo (a redolent place-name) goes on echoing.
I gathered together a goodly number of friends to assist the archduke Albert in Flanders: bought horses, and laid in powder.
The entry of the archduke was not less sad than his proclamation.
The public never knew the splendid qualities of the archduke, and misjudged him accordingly.
She had scarcely left the apartment when the archduke entered it.
Princes and pages formed a line, the archduke Rudolph took off his hat, and the Empress made the first salutation.
On the wings are the portraits of the archduke and Isabella, with their patron saints.