Maria Sophia’s Arrival
It was on a beautiful Spring morning, the third of February, 1859, that
the Crown Princess approached her new home. All the roads leading to
Bari were filled with curious sightseers, eager for a glimpse of the
bride. All tongues were busy with praises of her beauty and goodness.
Her name was on every lip; but instead of being called the Princess of
Bavaria or Duchess of Calabria, she was and still is familiarly spoken
of in Italy as Maria Sophia, to distinguish her from many of her
predecessors on the throne who had borne the name of Maria. The whole
royal family had journeyed to Bari to welcome her and were lodged on the
first floor of the Intendant’s palace, where apartments had also been
prepared for the Duchess of Calabria and her suite; but in spite of the
joyous air of expectancy that pervaded the town, a dark cloud hung over
the palace itself, owing to the condition of the King, who was confined
to his bed and suffering greatly. He had looked forward with the deepest
pleasure and interest to his son’s marriage, and it was a bitter
disappointment to him not to be present at the wedding ceremonies.
About ten o’clock in the morning, the thunder of cannon proclaimed the
approach of the _Fulminante_ and the _Tancredo_. The troops lined up,
the mayor of Bari and other dignitaries took their places in a pavilion
which had been erected in the middle of the landing stage for the
bride’s reception, while ten state equipages, escorted by a mounted
guard, issued from the palace and drove down to the pavilion, where the
Queen, with her stepson, the Duke of Calabria, and her little daughters,
alighted and boarded a steam launch to go out to meet the Duchess.
On the _Fulminante_, meanwhile, all was stir and excitement. The bride,
as she stood on deck dressed in a handsome travelling costume, looked
more than ever like her sister Elizabeth. She had the same wonderful
dark blue eyes and rich brown hair; and although not so tall as the
Empress, her figure was quite as beautifully formed. On this occasion
her usual expression of childish innocence and gayety had given place to
one of serious expectancy, and she was very pale, a result partly owing
to fatigue, partly to emotions natural to the situation. During the
journey she had plied Nina Rizzo and her new chamberlain with questions
about her future husband; how he looked, how he behaved toward his
parents, his brothers, and his subjects; and she had never tired of
hearing tales of his childhood. To her naive inquiry as to whether
Francis was really as disagreeable as he was said to be in Bavaria, both
had done their best to reassure the Princess by expatiating on his good
qualities.
It had stormed all night, but the sea now lay calm and smiling as if in
welcome, and it seemed to Maria that she had never seen such a wonderful
blue before. As they drew near the beautiful harbor with the town of
Bari beyond, bathed in Italian sunshine, she was so absorbed in the
enchanting scene that at first she did not notice the approaching
launch. Suddenly she caught sight of Francis standing up in the craft in
his gay hussar uniform, and her face lit up with a joyous smile. She
recognized him at once from his portrait and found him more
agreeable-looking than she had expected. Advancing to the side of the
vessel to meet him as he came aboard, she held out her hand with
charming impulsiveness and said, “Bonjour, François!”
“Bonjour, Marie!” replied the Prince, shyly taking both her hands in his
and kissing her on the forehead. The Queen then embraced the young girl
and presented her to the princesses, Maria inquiring solicitously for
the King and expressing her regret at his absence. She then asked with
great interest about the coast, the town they were approaching, the
vessels in the harbor, and all the new sights and scenes about her. The
young bridegroom, meanwhile, stood silent and embarrassed beside his
stepmother, so overcome with the emotion of meeting his bride and
finding her even more fascinating than he had dared to imagine, that he
was more shy and awkward than usual and could only stammer a few
disjointed words in answer to her questions.
At the landing they were met by the assembled officials and escorted to
the pavilion, where the royal party entered their coaches and drove back
to the palace. Maria’s beauty and girlish charm won instant favor. A
storm of cheers greeted her entrance into the new land; and even after
she had disappeared within the palace, the enthusiastic Italians
continued to shout till she was obliged to come out and show herself
once more on a balcony. The Crown Princess had scarcely time, however,
to acknowledge the people’s homage, before she was summoned to the
King’s bedside. She found him sitting up to greet her, his face deeply
lined with suffering. With all a father’s tenderness, Ferdinand embraced
his new daughter-in-law, shedding tears at this sorrowful meeting, so
different from what he had hoped for, while Maria also wept and returned
the embrace warmly. It was the first time in this foreign land that she
had been welcomed with anything like the affection to which she had been
accustomed at home, and she felt drawn at once to her dying
father-in-law, who had taken her into his heart at their very first
meeting, realizing with pity how thickly strewn with thorns must be the
path in life of this fair young creature who seemed made only for joy
and happiness. Maria had little time to dwell on this scene, however,
for the Queen led her away almost immediately to her chamber, where Nina
Rizzo exchanged her travelling suit for the white satin bridal robe, and
placed on her luxuriant hair—a characteristic of all the Wittelsbach
sisters—a wreath of orange blossoms with a magnificent lace veil which
she had brought with her from home.
An altar had been erected in the banqueting hall, the walls of which
were lined with pictures of the Madonna. Before the altar a throne with
arm-chairs was placed for the princes and princesses. The bishops and
distinguished guests had taken their places and the ceremony was about
to begin, when an incident occurred that made it hard for those present
to preserve their gravity. The Queen’s second son, Alphonso, Count of
Caserta, who though eighteen years old was as wild and ungovernable as a
schoolboy, had succeeded in fastening a long paper train to the uniform
of one of the highest court officials, whose solemn air of
unconsciousness only added to the humor of the situation. One of the
court gentlemen, however, quietly managed to remove the ridiculous
appendage, the victim remaining in blissful ignorance of the trick that
had been played upon him.
[Illustration: _MARIA SOPHIA
at the time of the accession_]
The young couple entered and took their places before the altar, where
the bishop concluded the ceremony with a solemn address in Italian,
invoking the blessing of God upon them. At the close of the Te Deum an
orchestra struck up the National Hymn and a salvo of artillery announced
to the waiting crowds without that the marriage was completed, while the
bridal pair went at once to the King’s chamber to receive his paternal
blessing. That evening the whole town was brilliantly illuminated, and
the square before the palace was filled with cheering throngs far into
the night; but in spite of these demonstrations there was much secret
uneasiness as to the King’s condition. The excitement of the wedding had
had a bad effect on Ferdinand; though he did all in his power to conceal
his sufferings, and the royal family seemed quite unaware of the
alarming nature of his illness.
When the Count of Caserta’s mischievous prank reached the ears of the
King, he sent for that youth and administered a sharp rebuke, declaring
such a performance could only have been expected of a street urchin.
Three days’ confinement to his room was to be his punishment, but at the
Queen’s intercession the sentence was somewhat lightened.