Queen Maria Sophia of Naples, a Forgotten Heroine

by Carl Küchler

The arsenal and other stores in Naples had fallen into the hands of the enemy; but after Francis had collected and organized his troops beyond the Volturno, he found himself with fifty thousand well provisioned and equipped men at his command. Fired now for the first time with true martial spirit, he determined to cut his way through Garibaldi’s forces to Naples, where, he was assured by secret agents, the fickle populace would welcome him back with open arms. On the first of October, at daybreak, accordingly, the attack was begun; but the royal troops were defeated and driven back across the Volturno, the gates of Capua being thrown open at five o’clock that afternoon to admit the fugitives.

Victor Emanuel had already determined to take a hand in affairs, although Naples had voted unanimously for the annexation of the Two Sicilies to an “Italia una,” and was by this time well on his way thither to assist in the reorganization of this new portion of his domains. The news of his approach spread terror and despair among the King’s forces; but Francis and his generals decided to await the enemy in a strong position on the further bank of the Garigliano, where on the twenty-eighth of October they were fortunate enough to repel an attack. But the advantage was a brief one. Capua soon had to be abandoned and, led by Victor Emanuel himself, the Piedmontese crossed the Garigliano, forcing the Neapolitans to retire within the shelter of Gaeta.

This town, often called from its location the Gibraltar of Italy, is one of the most strongly fortified places on the peninsula, and has played a prominent part in the wars of southern Italy. The Bay of Gaeta not only compares well with the gulf of Naples in beauty, but as a harbor is even better adapted to commerce, being both larger and deeper. The town is situated some sixteen miles from Naples, ten from Capua, three from the boundaries of what were then the Papal States, and seventeen from Rome; forming with San Germano and Capua a trio of defences capable of offering a long and stout resistance.

Gaeta at this time had a population of about fifteen thousand. It was a gay and picturesque little town, irregularly but not unattractively built, with well-paved if somewhat steep and narrow streets. Tradition points to a neighboring grove as the spot where Cicero was murdered by Antony’s orders; and between the citadel and the shore are some ruins called by the people the tower of Roland, where a friend of the Emperor Augustus was buried. The town and the citadel are situated on two rocky heights, separated by a steep cleft, the greater part of the town occupying the southernmost of these, while on the northern and much the larger one, rises the citadel with its fortifications. Both are practically inaccessible from the sea, while the west side of the neck of land, that connects the mainland with the outer point, also falls away steeply. Small villages line the shore; and still farther to the south, where the coast recedes so deeply that the bay lies between it and Gaeta, is the town of Mola, where the Piedmontese established their headquarters. It would seem that Victor Emanuel’s generals, made over-confident by the easy victories they had met with thus far in the Kingdom of Naples, scarcely looked for any serious resistance here.

But supported by a French fleet which protected the coast, by the presence of a well equipped and disciplined army, and above all by his heroic wife, Francis had at length determined to hold out in spite of everything. In the citadel, besides the King and Queen, were Maria Theresa with her five sons and four daughters, the youngest of whom was not yet three years old; the King’s two uncles, the Prince of Capua and the Count of Trapani; a few faithful friends who had followed their sovereign, and all the diplomatic corps, with the exception of the English and French ambassadors, who had received explicit orders from their Governments to remain in Naples to report what was passing there. All communication between Francis and the Emperor Napoleon, therefore, had to be carried on through the French admiral.

In spite of their recent experiences, the royal family did not seem to realize at first the seriousness of the situation. Gaeta had a garrison of twenty-one thousand men, and the citadel was well supplied with ammunition, while provisions for the army could easily be obtained from the Papal States, through the ports of Terracina and Civita Vecchia. The Count of Trapani was in nominal command, but the real leader of the defence was General Bosco. At the time of his surrender to Garibaldi in Sicily, this able officer had sworn not to take up arms for six months; but this period had now elapsed, and his return inspired the royal family with hope and confidence.

On the thirteenth of November, 1860, the bombardment of Gaeta was begun by the Piedmontese, whose fire was vigorously returned from the citadel. A week later the dowager Queen retired to Rome with her younger children, and on the same day the diplomats took their departure, all except the Spanish ambassador, Bermudez de Castro, who was a personal friend of the King. Even the Archbishop of Gaeta deserted the sinking ship, though his place should have been now, more than ever, with his flock. Francis tried to persuade Maria Sophia to leave him, and go to her home in Bavaria while it was yet possible, but she absolutely refused. More closely drawn to her husband in this time of danger than ever before, she announced her firm intention of remaining with him to the last, even though abandoned by all the world.

Europe had held but a poor opinion of Francis the Second during his short reign. His weakness and cowardice had been openly criticised; while in Naples itself he had been variously nicknamed “Bombino,” “Franciscillo,” and “Il Re Imbecile.” But in misfortune all his better qualities came to the surface. At Gaeta, no longer distracted by conflicting counsels, he became firmer and more manly, while his readiness to sacrifice all personal feeling to what he believed to be his duty, and his generosity toward those who should have been his foes, could not but command respect. For example, two Piedmontese merchantmen took refuge in the harbor of Gaeta one terribly stormy night; but instead of seizing them and their cargoes, as would have been his right, he permitted them to leave the bay the next morning, unmolested. He was constantly visiting the outworks, inspecting the work, and doing his best to keep up the courage of his men, in which he was bravely assisted by his two elder half-brothers; but the Queen surpassed them all in courage, scorning every danger and discomfort and looking death calmly in the face. Every day and often at night she visited the hospitals, carrying food, medicines, and fruit, doing all she could to relieve the sufferers, and shrinking from no wound, however terrible. Once during the illness of one of the Sisters of Mercy, Maria Sophia took her place as nurse, and though shells were falling so thick about the hospital tent that her life was in constant danger, she refused to leave her post. The soldiers were always rejoiced to see her and would follow her about with their eyes in the most adoring way. They gloried in their beautiful, spirited young Queen, dashing about on her horse from one to another of the hastily improvised hospitals that were set up on the different batteries.

The Piedmontese noticed that at the sound of a certain bell there always seemed to be some commotion in the citadel of the besieged city, and curious to know the meaning of it, some officers in one of the nearest outposts fixed their field-glasses on the fortress at that particular time. Much to their surprise they discovered a young woman in the Calabrian costume, moving about among the guns and encouraging the artillerymen, quite regardless of the storm of shells that was falling about her. It was Maria Sophia, making her daily visit to the so-called “Queen’s Battery” to watch the firing from there, and a striking picture she made in her long cloak and Calabrian hat, gay and smiling as ever, glorying apparently in danger, and careless of her own fate.

It had been agreed that a black flag should be hoisted while the Queen was making her rounds among the wounded, and the sign was at first respected by the enemy, but Maria Sophia herself paid no attention to it as she rode calmly about her business even in those fortifications exposed to the heaviest fire. One day a bomb fell so close to her feet that she would certainly have been torn to pieces had not an officer seized her in his arms and swung her behind a projecting wall. Another day, while standing in one of the window embrasures in the citadel, talking with the Spanish ambassador, a shell burst so near that the window panes were shattered and the Queen’s face was cut by the flying glass. But she only laughed, saying, “It is unkind of the enemy to leave me nowhere in peace. They have just driven me from one place, and now will not let me stay here, either.”