I have told my kids the tragic tale of Carlotta,
Coburg princess of Belgium and, for a few years, Empress
of Mexico. She fell for Maximilian Hapsburg, younger
brother of the august Franz Josef, who in a poorly judged
attempt to escape his brother's shadow, accepted Napoleon
III's offer to become Emperor of a sort-of recolonized
Mexico -- possible only while the U.S. was preoccupied
in its own death struggle of the Civil War. After Appomatox,
however, the U.S. turned up the pressure, as well as its
aid to the rebels who wanted Max, Carlotta and their French
soldiers to sail away. While Max and the troops executed
a long series of tactical retreats, Carlotta sailed to Europe
to beg for troops from France, from Austria, from the Vatican --
but none were available for a rescue. As she awaited the Pope's
answer, her desperation turned to panic and then paranoia.
She began to suspect that someone was trying to
poison her. In those dark days, the only drinking
water she trusted was from the fountains of Rome, and every
morning she would have herself driven down to the Trevi fountain
to drink its cool clean water.
For us, it was the endpoint of our first-evening walk in
Rome -- from our apartment near Campo dei Fiori, across
the Piazza Novano, past the Pantheon and finally -- following
the sound of hundreds of tourists in awe -- to the Trevi
fountain lit at night. A beautiful and amazing sight.
And Carlotta? She escaped poisoning and went on to live
a long life of mild madness -- though without Max, who
fell before a Mexican firing squad. Carlotta
returned to Belgium an imperial widow and was still living there a half century
later when it was invaded by German troops. They were under orders
not to touch her house: she was still, after all, the sister-in-law
of the Kaiser's Austrian ally. One night during that war, another
house in her neighborhood was engulfed in flames. Carlotta joined the
crowd that gathered to watch it burn. "It's very terrible, isn't it?" a
neighbor said.