Next to the Duchess Ludovica, her most frequent visitor at Augsburg was Queen Marie of Bavaria, who had always been her closest friend, and it was she who finally persuaded her cousin to exchange the convent for a residence in Munich. In January, 1863, Maria Sophia moved to the Schloss Biederstein, situated close to the English gardens and one of the most beautiful spots in the Bavarian capital. Again and again the ex-King of Naples made offers of reconciliation, and at length his patience and devotion touched his wife’s heart. Possibly, also, her eyes were gradually opened to the silent martyrdom he, on his own part, had endured so long and which she at the time had little understood or appreciated. It was not until two or three months later, however, that she finally decided to return to Italy. On the thirteenth of April she arrived once more in Rome, where she was warmly welcomed by her husband and all the friends of the exiled family, after an absence of nearly a year.
Chapter XIV
Royalty in Exile
Of all the sovereigns of Europe, Maximilian of Baden had been the most loyal champion of King Francis’s cause. Neither Garibaldi’s triumphant progress, nor Victor Emanuel’s victories, nor the unanimous shouts of six million people for “Italia una” could reconcile him to the new state of affairs. He had been ill for a long time, and in the Autumn of 1863 his physicians recommended a sojourn in the south. So strong was his feeling, however, against the new ruler of Italy, that rather than pass through any part of his dominions, he travelled by way of Switzerland to Marseilles, and there boarded a vessel that would land him in papal territory.
The voyage was terribly rough and the King suffered so acutely with seasickness that it brought on an attack of his old complaint. Fearful of the consequences of continuing the voyage, his physician declared he must be taken ashore at all costs; but the sea was too high to permit of the vessel’s landing, so the suffering monarch had to be lowered into an open boat on a mattress and rowed ashore by two sailors. Fortunately, they succeeded in reaching land safely near San Stefano, where they were met by the French consul, and King Max, more dead than alive, was cared for so attentively that he was able to continue his journey to Civita Vecchia by carriage the next morning, arriving in Rome the following day. Here he took up his residence in the Villa Mattei, and his health began to improve at once.
Maria Sophia was overjoyed to see her cousin again. She herself was far from well, and had been urged by her physicians to leave Rome; but Max, to whom she was devoted, begged her to remain, and she yielded to his wishes. In December, however, her condition became so alarming that Francis was forced to leave with her at once for Venice, a change of air being absolutely necessary if her life was to be preserved. The ex-King realized at last that it was out of the question for his wife to live in Rome, and henceforth they spent only the winter months there. In the purer air of Venice she soon began to gain strength and was able once more to enjoy her favorite recreations. The relations between Maria Sophia and her husband had much improved, and while he had no sympathy with her tastes, nor was able to join her in her rides, he no longer opposed her in the indulgence of them.
Meanwhile the Schleswig-Holstein affair had become a burning question in Germany. King Frederick the Seventh of Denmark had died, and in the latter part of November news was received in Munich of Prussia’s protest against his successor, the Duke of Augustenburg. Public feeling ran high, and the issue of events was anxiously awaited. Under these circumstances the people of Bavaria felt the need of their sovereign’s presence among them and King Max was obliged to leave Rome. Although so much improved in health that his physicians held out hope of a permanent cure, he was still too ill to travel. He suffered a relapse soon after reaching home, and died three months later, deeply mourned both by his subjects and his family.
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In the Autumn of 1867 an epidemic of cholera broke out in Italy. The dowager Queen insisted on remaining in her Albanian villa, though all her children had hastily left the country. Deserted by her family and her court, the widow of Ferdinand the Second fell a victim to the scourge. Even the servants had fled, and the only person with her at her death was an old Neapolitan nobleman who had been a friend of her husband’s. Although Maria Theresa’s star had long since set, he remained faithful to the last, tending and caring for her while she lay ill, and accompanying her body—the only mourner—to its last resting-place in the neighboring churchyard.
The relations between Francis and Maria Sophia had never been actually unpleasant; but after the death of the Queen dowager, they became more attached to each other. Together they made frequent visits to their various relatives or entertained them in Rome during the Winters. The Empress Elizabeth especially was a frequent visitor. These two sisters, as unlike in character as in their circumstances, had never lost any of their sisterly affection for each other. Maria Sophia was with the Empress in Hungary when her youngest daughter, Marie Valerie, was born in 1868, and had shared her joy in that happy event. With it, however, was a feeling of sadness for herself, childless and, in a way, homeless. Children of her own would have given life a new aspect to her, and she felt she would have been a different woman. But it was not her way to indulge in vain regrets. She had long been indifferent toward the world; her only interest now was in her dogs and horses, and she would spend whole days in the saddle, riding the wildest and most ungovernable animals. Once, on one of these rides, she met with an accident, from the effects of which she was long in recovering, and her husband’s quiet devotion during this time furnished a proof of his affection for her that drew them still closer together.
Maria Sophia’s joy was boundless when, on Christmas Eve, 1869, after ten years of married life, she gave birth to a daughter in Rome. Four days later, the little princess was christened, Pius the Ninth, who performed the ceremony himself, acting as godfather, and the Empress Elizabeth as godmother. She received the names Maria Christina Louisa Pia, for her two grandmothers and the Holy Father. But the happiness of the ex-King and Queen was destined to be of short duration, for their only child lived but three months. She died in the following March, and was buried in Rome.