A portrait of Queen Carola of Saxony by Elisabeth Vilma Lwoff Parlaghy, c1901.
Dubbed as one of the most beautiful princesses in Europe during the 1850s, Princess Carola of Vasa was the last surviving grandchild of Gustaf IV Adolf, the last king of Sweden from the house of Vasa. She was born 5 August 1833 at Schönbrunn Palace in Austria to Crown Prince Gustav of Sweden and Princess Louise Amelie of Baden. Her beauty enamored the most eligible princes of Europe, including Napoléon III, Emperor of the French. On June 18, 1853, Carola married in Dresden, Crown Prince Albert of Saxony. A year prior and despite her father’s objections, she converted to Catholicism. Their marriage was childless, although she suffered many miscarriages. In 1873, Albert succeeded as King of Saxony. As her queen consort, Carola was popular among the Saxon people, especially for her contributions to the kingdom’s health care.
In her controversial memoir which was published in London in
1911, Archduchess Louise of Austria-Tuscany, who was married to Albert’s
nephew, the future King Frederick Augustus III (they were divorced in 1903),
only had good words to say about Queen Carola. In the same book, though, she
did not mince words against her father-in-law, King George of Saxony and his courtiers. Here are
portions of Louise’s memoirs about Queen Carola.
On Queen Carola’s warm welcome to Louisa
Queen Carola was very sweet to me, and gave a ball in my
honour. I was wildly excited, as this was the first real ball to which I had
ever been. Naturally my toilette was the great question, and I eventually chose
a gown of pink mousseline de sote, with a tiny décolletage, and very short
sleeves. I took two hours to dress, and I remember how girlish and happy I was,
and what a thrill of innocent vanity I felt when T saw my reflection in the
long mirror. My brown hair was plaited and entwined with pale pink roses, and
some of mamma's beautiful jewels, lent to me for this great occasion, were
displayed on my dainty gown.
On being a woman of charity
Queen Carola was an excellent and charitable woman, who
occupied herself in good deeds. She accompanied her husband during the Franco-
Prussian War, and nursed the wounded with rare patience and skill. She was
remarkably handsome but somewhat shy and reserved. She was childless, and this
was put down by the people to the Jesuits who were supposed in some way or
other to have prevented her from becoming a mother. Another curious idea was
prevalent that Providence would not grant a son to the reigning Sovereign, as
ever since the days of August the Strong, no direct heir has been born to a
King of Saxony, and my eldest son who will eventually become King was born when
his father was not yet Crown Prince.
On her anxiety when Archduchess Louise was giving birth to a
son
My eldest son, the Crown Prince of Saxony, was born on
January 15, 1893, after forty-eight hours of dreadful anxiety and suffering.
The Royal Family waited in the next room, and Queen Carola repeatedly came in
to see me. She had never had a child, and I remember how she kept on saying, ‘Poor
dear! poor dear!” and when she was not looking critically at me through her
lorgnettes, she was losing her handkerchief and fidgeting about trying to find
it.
Queen Carola and Louise’s “bicycle craze”
My worries really began actively when the bicycle craze
affected Dresden society. I was very anxious to learn, and asked my husband
whether he had any objection to my doing so. He was quite in favour of it, and
I arranged to take private lessons, always, of course, accompanied by a
lady-in-waiting.
I enjoyed myself thoroughly at first, but my pleasure was
only faceting, for one day I was somewhat hastily summoned by King Albert and
Queen Carola on a matter of private importance. They received me with marked
coldness, and the Queen said in displeased tones, “I hear, Louisa, that you are
learning the bicycle.”
“Certainly,” I replied.
“Well,” said the King, “bicycling is not an amusement for a
princess, and you ought to know it, Louisa.”
“Yes,” chimed in Queen Carola, “and even if you had
contemplated it, you should have asked my permission before you took lessons.”
“I had my husband's permission,” I answered coldly; “I
considered it quite sufficient.”
“Frederick-August’s permission does not signify,” replied the
Queen. “You apparently ignore etiquette; please remember that I am the Queen,
and that it is your duty to consult me in everything you do.”
I was furious, and told her that my father allowed my
sisters to bicycle, and what he thought right, must be right. All my arguments
were received with supercilious disdain, and I left in a tempest of anger and
wounded pride. When I reached home I poured out my wrongs to Frederick-August,
who, good soul, was all for peace. I therefore let the matter drop, and did not
go on with my lessons.
Some days elapsed, and I received a little note from the
Queen, asking me to come and see her.
“My dear child,” she began. “I’ve really something very
unpleasant to say,”
I waited in silence for the gathering storm to break, but, as
the thunder still seemed in the distance, 1 said, with the courage of perfect
innocence,
“Well, tell me what it is, Auntie.”
She hesitated, and then answered hurriedly:
“Well, Louisa, Madame X. came to-day on purpose to inform me
that last evening you were seen in the Grosser Garten riding a bicycle in KNICKERBOCKEKS,
escorted by two actors from the Court Theatre.”
I looked at her in silent amazement, and then burst out
laughing.
“What a de," I cried. ‘Why, since our last interview
when you expressed a wish that I should not ride a bicycle I’ve discontinued my
lessons.” Then anger completely mastered me at the thought of the malice which
had inspired such a report, and I said: “Who is your informant? Tell me at
once—bring her to me, I wish to speak to her.”
“No, no, Louisa, that’s impossible, I have promised not to
tell.”
This made me angrier than ever. “How dare you,” I cried,
“accuse me, and not allow me to face my accuser?”
I knew that this story was assiduously circulated all over
Dresden, and I was contemptuously amused at it, so when I was again sent for by
Queen Carola about a month after- wards, I said, without any preamble: “Am I
arraigned once more ?”
The Queen was all smiles.
“ Arraigned? Certainly not, dearest Louisa. I’ve sent for
you to tell you that you may ride the bicycle after all, because I have just
learned that the German Emperor allows his sister, Princess Frederick-Leopold
to ride on in Berlin!” …. I looked at the Queen who was beaming with joy at the
seal of approval set on the bicycles by the Emperor, and I felt some pity for
this example-swayed old lady.
“Well, Auntie,” I observed satirically, “your opinions are
easily changed, that’s something to be thankful for, at any rate.”
Queen Carola on the death of King Albert
King Albert lay on the bed, beautiful and calm, and his
hands were crossed above the fine linen sheet, strewn with red roses, which
covered him. Queen Carola knelt on a prie-Dieu at the foot of the bed, where
two candles were burning, and as I looked at the silent figures, a great wave
of sadness came over me, and my heart over- flowed with pity for the grief-stricken
mourner, I did not say much to her, for I could see she desired to be left
alone, so I just kissed her in token of my sympathy, and left the room as
quietly as I had entered it.
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