Siege of Gaeta
It is probable that Francis at the time of his departure from Naples had
no definite ideas as to how far he should offer resistance to the course
of events. His friends urged him to wait quietly till the first wave of
enthusiasm had passed, hoping he might then return to the throne as a
member of an Italian confederation. From Gaeta he went with his brothers
to Capua, where their presence did much to restore unity among the royal
troops and revive their sinking courage, and where he was speedily
joined by all who had anything to gain by adhering to the Bourbon cause
or were too deeply compromised to venture to remain in Naples under the
new regime. A much more valuable addition to the King’s forces, however,
was a large number of volunteers from southern Germany, who had hastened
to the aid of their fair countrywoman, and to whose valor it was largely
owing that they were able to hold out so long.
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.”
“Ah, but you have had your wish granted, madame,” replied the
Ambassador, “you wanted to see a ball as close as possible.”
“Yes, and I also wished for a slight wound,” added the Queen gayly.
* * * * * * * *
From Gaeta Francis had issued another proclamation to his subjects,
protesting against the new order of things, and avowing his good faith
toward them and the constitution he had granted them, in spite of all
that had happened; but though widely distributed, it was powerless to
stem the current of events. As we have seen, the King had lost many
opportunities of securing an advantage at the beginning of the war. By
retreating to Gaeta he was placed in the curious position, for a
commander, of having cut himself off from two-thirds of his army. He had
given orders for the majority of these to slip away across the Roman
borders, hoping they might be reassembled later, to form the nucleus for
an uprising in the Abruzzo Mountains. Reports, however, of the terrible
treatment received by prisoners at the hands of the Piedmontese so
alarmed the soldiers that they made no attempt to escape till it was too
late, and the few that did reach Roman territory were promptly disarmed.
The French fleet, lying in the Bay of Gaeta, had proved of inestimable
value in protecting the city from attack by sea. The friendly attitude
of the Admiral also made it possible for the King’s friends to furnish
him with provisions, while the supply ships carried many of the
Neapolitan troops away from Gaeta, landing them at Civita Vecchia and
Terracina. In this way the garrison was reduced to fifteen thousand men;
but even so, the food supply soon began to fall short.
As early as the twenty-second of November, a journalist wrote in his
diary that provisions of all kinds had doubled in price, and the
situation grew worse and worse as time went on. Rice, beans, even bread,
were almost impossible to obtain, and macaroni and potatoes were sold
for thrice their usual value. Fish and meat were to be had only by the
officers in small quantities and of the poorest quality. Then an
epidemic of typhus fever broke out, which soon filled every bed in the
hospitals. The King and Queen did all in their power to obtain
nourishing food for the sick and wounded, sending fish and other
delicacies procured for their own table to the Sisters of Mercy to be
distributed in the hospitals.