Conclusion
After the funeral of the Duchess Ludovica, Maria Sophia returned to
Paris, where the ex-King of Naples had bought a residence some years
before, and where they were living very quietly, seeing no one but old
friends or relatives. Her grief at her mother’s loss was deep and
sincere, and for a time she was inconsolable. For her it meant the
severing of all the old ties and associations; and henceforth she rarely
visited the home of her childhood.
A few months later Hélène of Thurn and Taxis died after a long and
painful illness, at the age of fifty-eight. The Empress Elizabeth had
hastened to her and was with her when she died, but none of the three
younger sisters were able to be present.
In the Autumn of 1894 the ex-King of Naples went to the baths at Arco in
the Tyrol for his health, while his wife remained in Paris. Francis had
suffered for several years with an incurable complaint, and it was
reported that his illness had recently taken a serious turn; but this
had been denied. Death came sooner than any one expected, however, to
the unfortunate monarch, for he expired on the twenty-seventh of
December—alone, as he had lived. Maria Sophia started at once for Arco
on the news of his illness, but arrived too late to find him alive.
Not a flag was lowered in the kingdom of his fathers to mark the death
of Francis the Second of Naples, nor was his body even allowed to rest
in the land he had loved. In all his vicissitudes, the long years of
exile, and the hours of loneliness and pain, Italy had been ever in his
heart. Through all his wanderings he had been haunted by memories of the
blue skies and sunny gardens of his childhood days. His love for his
native land extended even beyond the grave, for in his will he
bequeathed a million lire to charitable institutions in Naples and
Palermo.
Duke Karl Theodor and his wife, with several other members of Maria
Theresa’s family, hastened at once to Arco to comfort Maria Sophia and
be present at the ex-King’s funeral. It took place on the third of
January, 1895, and was attended by a large number of royalties and other
distinguished personages.
In the bright Winter sunshine the body of Francis the Second was borne
to the cathedral where it was to be laid to rest. The narrow streets
were thronged with black-garbed men and women, and bells were tolled in
all the churches, while the trumpets of the two battalions of Austrian
Jägers sent by the Emperor Francis Joseph, to pay the last honors to the
deceased sovereign, sounded a farewell. At the door of the church the
procession was met by the ex-Queen with her sisters, Mathilde and
Sophie, with several of her sisters-in-law, and other noble ladies who
formed the band of mourners. The services lasted five hours, and were
conducted by the Archbishop of Trent; but at last all was ended, the dim
cathedral was left silent and empty, and only the sound of tolling bells
echoed mournfully through the wintry air.
The life of Francis the Second of Naples was one of renunciation. Little
sympathy or affection fell to his lot. He was arbitrary where he should
have been yielding, and yielding where he should have been firm; yet
during his short reign he was one of the most conspicuous figures in
European politics, and he had carried a kingdom with him in his
downfall. He was a good man and a good Christian, and, in spite of his
shortcomings, a real hero; for while his heart was bleeding, he bore his
sorrows in silence and hid his sufferings from the world.
* * * * * * * *
Although Maria Sophia had never really loved her husband, a close and
sincere friendship had grown up between them, and she truly mourned his
death. After the funeral she returned with her brother and his wife to
Munich, where for a time she occupied her old residence, the Schloss
Biederstein; but now that she was alone the thought of living there was
unbearable to her.
[Illustration: _FRANCIS SECOND
in his sixtieth year_]
The claims of the ex-King to the throne of Naples passed at his death to
Alfonzo, Count of Caserta; and while Francis had left his wife a large
sum of money, the bulk of his fortune had been bequeathed to this
brother whose marriage had been blessed with ten children. The residence
in Paris occupied by the royal pair had been included in this; and as
Maria Sophia wished to be free to live her own life, she bought an
estate at Neuilly-sur-Seine, where she lives quite alone the greater
part of the year. She rarely goes to Bavaria, but spends a few weeks
each winter at Arco. It was her intention originally to have her
husband’s body removed to her family burial-place in Tegernsee; but the
last King of Naples still sleeps before the high altar in the cathedral
of the little Tyrolean town. This quiet spot has grown dear to the
ex-Queen, and she mixes freely and pleasantly with the people who go
there for the baths. She is still a distinguished woman,—distinguished
in the best sense of the word,—with much of that charm that is like a
reflection of the past. Most of her time, however, she devotes to the
real passion of her life, her farm, where she raises thoroughbred dogs
and horses. Maria Sophia is not a recluse; but she lives in a world of
her own, and cares for animals more than for people. In former days her
sisters used often to visit her at Neuilly, the Duchess d’Alençon then
living in Paris, and the Empress Elizabeth and Countess of Trani
frequently stopping there on their journeys.
The portraits of these four sisters plainly show their differences of
character. Mathilde of Trani is the picture of discontent and
disillusionment; Elizabeth is the mourner; Sophie d’Alençon is resigned
and weary of the world, while Maria, unlike all the others, looks
bravely out at life, despite her years.
She accepted the decrees of fate with courage and fortitude, and bore
her troubles more philosophically than her sisters, therefore she has
kept her cheerfulness and serenity, and much of her former beauty. She
is always active, for she still feels young. But her solitary life and
her preference for the society of animals to people, show that the life
of this gayest and soundest of the Wittelsbach sisters has also been a
tragedy.
* * * * * * * *
Three years after the death of the ex-King of Naples, another terrible
misfortune occurred in the family. On the fourth of May, 1897, the
French capital was the scene of a most frightful catastrophe. The ladies
of the French aristocracy were holding a bazaar for charity, in a
building which had been roughly and carelessly constructed, and lined
with booths in which many prominent society women sold wares donated for
the purpose. A kinematograph had also been installed to add to the
entertainment. In the middle of the afternoon, when the crowd was
greatest, a lamp attached to this suddenly burst, and in an instant the
whole building was in flames. The exits were insufficient and hard to
find, and scores of people perished.
Among the most prominent of the workers was Sophie, Duchess d’Alençon,
who was a devout Catholic and had devoted the latter years of her life
almost entirely to charity. Witnesses of the scene of horror who escaped
with their lives have told of the Duchess’s heroism in attempting to
save others, forgetful of her own danger. One lady tried to carry her
out by force; but she broke away, and dashing back into the flames, took
her place in her own booth again, calmly assisting in getting the young
girls into a place of safety.
All that night it was hoped that she, too, had succeeded in making her
escape. But the next day a wedding ring, bearing the name of Ferdinand
d’Alençon, was found in the ruins and all hope of finding her alive was
abandoned. Her body, burned beyond all recognition, was afterward
identified by a dentist who had supplied her with some false teeth
shortly before. Maria Sophia was in Neuilly at the time of the accident,
and her appearance with the Duke d’Alençon, at the requiem mass held in
memory of the dead in the Church of St. Philippe de Rule, was her last
public appearance in the world. When the Empress Elizabeth, who fell by
the hand of an assassin on the shore of Lake Geneva a year later, was
laid away in the vault of the Capucins at Vienna, Maria Sophia was
unable to be present. Only in spirit could she bid farewell to this
favorite sister, under whose cold and reserved exterior had beaten a
warm and loving heart.
* * * * * * * *
Many years have passed since the Rose of Starnberg Lake was planted at
the foot of Vesuvius, many since Francis the Second’s tottering throne
collapsed, burying the hopes of a lifetime. But time has treated Maria
Sophia gently. If she has wept bitter tears, the world has seen no trace
of them. Her smile is still that of the beautiful young Queen of Naples,
and she has kept that youth of the heart that never fades. But what her
thoughts are as she goes about among her pets, no one knows. Does she
still see Gaeta at times behind its dark, receding cliffs? Perhaps, for
it was there that she displayed for the first and only time the gifts
with which Providence had endowed her, and the supreme moments of life
one does not forget.
The romance of Maria Sophia’s life ended at Gaeta: forced from the
world’s stage with all the splendid promise of her youth unfulfilled,
she has never since taken part in the affairs of men. Yet she is not
morbid or unhappy. She looks back upon her life without bitterness, and
if her heart has longings, it is not for her vanished crown and sceptre.
The struggle for Italian unity has given place to other and newer events
in the world’s history. The Queen of Naples has hidden her royal honors
under the modest title of Duchess of Castro. When she dies, an almost
forgotten episode will be revived and the “Heroine of Gaeta” recalled to
the memory of men; but only the gray-haired soldiers who knew and served
under the young Queen will remember how gay and brilliant she was, will
see her again in all her fresh young beauty.
Maria Sophia was a heroine but for a day; but time has no power to touch
her memory. Clothed in the radiance of perpetual youth, she stands a
glowing figure in the annals of history.
Footnotes
[1]The nickname of King Bomba was given to Ferdinand after the
bombardment of Messina in Sicily, but also referred to the huge,
unwieldy figure that he acquired, especially in the later years of
his life.
Appendix
The following is a chronological statement of the principal events
connected with this narrative:
1807 Birth of Garibaldi.
1810 Birth of Ferdinand the Second.
1836 Birth of Francis the Second.
1859 Death of Ferdinand the Second.
1859 Francis the Second succeeds to the Throne.
1859 Beginning of the Italian Revolution.
1859 Battles of Magenta and Solferino.
1860 Garibaldi Dictator of Sicily.
1860 Garibaldi enters Naples.
1860 Francis the Second driven from Naples.
1860 Annexation of Central Italy to Sardinia.
1860 Outbreak of Revolution in Lower Italy.
1861 Surrender of Gaeta.
1861 Victor Emanuel proclaimed King of Italy.
1862 Garibaldi invades Sicily.
1862 Garibaldi defeated and retires.
1866 French Garrison withdrawn from Rome.
1870 Victor Emanuel occupies Rome.
1882 Death of Garibaldi.
LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
_Translated from the German by_
GEORGE P. UPTON
28 Volumes Now Ready
_Historical and Biographical_
Barbarossa
William of Orange
Maria Theresa
The Maid of Orleans
Frederick the Great
The Little Dauphin
Herman and Thusnelda
The Swiss Heroes
Marie Antoinette’s Youth
The Duke of Brittany
Louise, Queen of Prussia
The Youth of the Great Elector
Emperor William First
Elizabeth, Empress of Austria
Charlemagne
Prince Eugene
Eugénie, Empress of the French
Queen Maria Sophia of Naples
_Musical Biography_
Beethoven
Mozart
Johann Sebastian Bach
Joseph Haydn
_Legendary_
Frithjof Saga
Gudrun
The Nibelungs
William Tell
Arnold of Winkelried
Undine
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