January 19 marks the date of death of a personage whose life spanned over two centuries, witnessed incredible changes in social and political events, someone who began and ended her life in Europe, and spent merely three years in Mexico; but that short time was momentous both for her and for Mexico. I am referring to Princess Charlotte, who became Empress Carlota when her husband, Maximilian, was crowned emperor of Mexico here.
Princess Charlotte was born on June 7, 1840, the only daughter of King Leopold of Belgium and his wife Louisa, descendant of the royal French family, and cousin to Queen Victoria of England through her father’s lineage. She was a boisterous little girl, brought up as a princess ought to be, with luxury and all the privileges of her station. But at the age of ten her mother died, and with that loss Charlotte became a reserved, introspective adolescent.
What remained was the awareness of her royal status and a desire to maintain it. Others saw her as a judgmental young woman, concerned with dignity and moral perfection; an introverted beauty, encased in her own world, and already displaying some of her future trends—mainly a distancing from reality.
Princess Charlotte was a highly desired marriage prize for any of the nobles or royals of Europe, because of her father’s great wealth and connections to the other monarchs. The suitors began to court early, and were quickly rejected by the fickle young lady. But her fancy was struck by a pale, somber young man—Habsburg Archduke Maximilian, the younger brother of the Emperor of Austria, Franz Joseph. 2
She was star stuck by the quiet, dreamy young man, eight years her senior for whom she envisioned an exceptional future. He, on the other hand, never seemed to be as enchanted by her, and most likely saw her great wealth as a solution to his financial problems. Or perhaps he could not love her completely because he could not forget his beloved fiancée, Princess Maria Amalia of Brazil. The two had met, fallen instantly in love, and were betrothed to be married when she contracted tuberculosis. Within a few months, Maria Amelia died, leaving Maximillian devastated. It seems that for Maximilian, Maria Amalia was, and always remained, the love of his life—the “angel” who seemed to forever haunt him, preventing him from loving another woman as much.
Charlotte and Maximilian were married in 1857; she barely 17, and he 25 years old. Once they were married, the two seemed to develop a strong bond through their mutual desire to do something historically significant. That seemed to become reality when Maximillian was given the title of Viceroy of Lombardy-Venetia, but his attempt at pleasing the Italian rebels resulted in Austria’s eventual loss of that region. That left Maximilian and Charlotte without the rule over any lands; they were potential regents without a kingdom, and that lack stung them both. It was also an early sign of Maximilian’s progressive views.
To solve their disappointment they built a fairy-tale like castle along the Adriatic coast, near Trieste. Miramare castle became a retreat for them both, with Charlotte playing the piano and painting, and Maximilian designing the grounds and gathering butterflies. But cracks in their marriage began to appear, particularly with Charlotte continuously prodding her husband to find a kingdom to rule over. Rumors claimed the marriage was never consummated, a painful reminder to Charlotte that he could never love her as fully as she loved him. Worst of all was feeling like a princess in virtual exile; she needed the adulation of a court and the power of a monarch.
Miramare
A strange opportunity appeared in 1864 when a delegation from Mexico arrived at Miramare. Composed of Conservatives intent on bringing back monarchy to their country, thus restoring the privileges of the Spanish nobility and the Catholic Church. Big players, beyond Mexico, were also vested in this matter—specifically Emperor Napoleon III, nephew of Bonaparte, who just like his uncle, hoped for expansions of his powers. Mexico would be a foothold in a new continent, an incursion into the stronghold of the United States which at the time was distracted with its own civil war. They offered Maximilian the title of Emperor of Mexico.
Charlotte was thrilled, she wanted Maximilian to accept immediately. But he was a bit more cautious, he wanted proof that the Mexican population truly wanted him and insisted on proof of that. Such proof was easy to concoct, and within a short time the delegates brought him an entire chest filled with signatures purportedly from Mexicans who affirmed their desire to have Maximilian as their emperor. But it was Charlotte’s high-and-mighty beliefs that finally tipped the scales. Convinced that becoming a Mexican Empress was God’s divine will, she persuaded Maximilian to accept the post.
The young couple set off on their journey to Veracruz in the spring of 1864, arriving in Mexico City in May. Maximilian was crowned emperor, and Charlotte—now known as Carlota—became coregent.
They chose Chapultepec castle as their residence and center of power. It was a lovely piece of property amid lush vegetation, and they immediately set off on making it a recreation of Schonbrunn Palace in America—the Austrian empire’s spectacular royal house, now occupied by Maximilian’s older brother, Emperor Franz Joseph. Chapultepec became a sparkling jewel, sitting high on the top of the hill overlooking the city, with mirrored spaces filled with artwork, and manicured gardens throughout, as lovely as any European palace. It is still a beautiful place to visit; a strange sojourn into a grand place from the past.
Carlota exercised her powers as coregent well; sometimes it seemed she was more able to rule an empire than her husband. She had received an education worthy of a monarch, and temperamentally was probably better disposed to be a ruler—Maximilian took too long to make decisions, and then often wavered. Soon his personality and ideals became evident, and very much in conflict with the conservatives’ agenda. He wanted rights and freedoms for the indigenous population, free and secular (a sore point for the Pope) education for all, better working conditions, and access to medical care for the general population. This was a decisive rupture with the Catholic Church, and the Pope, furious with Maximilian, withdrew his support.
It does not take an oracle to see what was to come. The conservatives grew tired of Maximilian’s partiality toward the underprivileged, and he lost their favor. But another major factor came into play. The Civil War in the United States came to an end, and with that the lax attitude toward a European-controlled monarchy. In 1865, President Lincoln sent a messenger to Napoleon III, with a courteous yet authoritative demand—withdraw from Mexico, or face the wrath of our entire army. Napoleon did not take long to yield to the demands. In early 1866 he withdrew all French troops, leaving Maximilian completely vulnerable in a foreign land that did not want him.
The withdrawal of troops, and the loss of the Pope’s support caused incredible stress on the young empress. Carlota realized that it was not only the crown that was at stake, their very lives were as well. Desperate, she left for Europe where she hoped to convince Napoleon to continue his support, and get back in the pope’s graces. None of that worked. In spite of a long, prepared speech explaining their position, Napoleon rejected her request. He was done with Mexico and that was it.
At this point Carlota began to display definite signs of mental decline. First came the paranoia, an obsessive belief that Napoleon and his wife were intent on poisoning her. During a meeting with them she was offered a drink which she threw away yelling that they were trying to kill her. She demanded her own cook, and only drank from public fountains. One anecdote claims that she walked into the royal kitchen once where a large pot of soup was boiling on the stove. Carlota pulled up her sleeve and thrust her hand into the boiling broth attempting to retrieve a piece of meat. She did not even react to the severe burns she suffered.
At the Vatican the pope refused to give her an audience, so she sneaked into his private room where he was having breakfast. Half-starved because she had not eaten for days, she put her fingers in his cup of chocolate and licked it off voraciously. When asked to leave, she went into what can only be described as a temper tantrum, crying, sobbing loudly and refusing to leave. Finally one of her brothers came to get her
In the meantime, in Mexico, Maximilian had been arrested, and in a quick trial found guilty of conspiracy to overthrow the Mexican government. On June 19, 1867 he was executed by firing squad. By this time, Carlota was in seclusion, detached from reality by her mental decay, and her family refused to let her know that Maximilian was dead.
Carlota never found out that her husband had died; she was oblivious to what was happening outside the walls she lived within. The world changed from horse-drawn carriages, to automobiles, dirigibles and even airplanes. Women acquired the right to vote in almost every country, the First World War shook the planet, monarchy ended in most of Europe, including Russia, which then created the Soviet Regime.
All through this, Carlota remained in seclusion, as lucidity eluded her she was declared insane, and was moved from one castle to another. She died on January 19, 1927, still in seclusion, a shriveled old lady who still believed herself to be the empress of Mexico.
Song dedicated to Carlota: “Farewell mommy Carlota, farewell my tender love.” Aside from its mocking tone, the lyrics demonstrate the deep dislike for royalty by the Mexican people.
Maximilian and Franz Joseph’s youngest brother Karl Ludwig became the father of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, whose assassination sparked WWI (but that’s another story).