convent and the schools and hospital attached to it had been completely
destroyed; many of the sisters had been killed or injured. The devotion
and courage of these faithful nuns to the old people and the children
under their care made a deep impression on all the company on board the
“Bayern.”
“While lying in Catania,” Captain Belknap continues, “knowing that
lumber was needed at Reggio, Mr. Flint was sent ashore Wednesday
morning, to buy such quantity as we could get on board that day.
Lighterage facilities were very scarce, as many steamers were in the
harbor discharging; but by the persistent efforts of the German
Vice-Consul, Mr. Jacob Peratoner, who very kindly devoted almost his
entire day in our behalf, we succeeded in getting on board enough lumber
to build 25 houses, 13 by 13 feet, complete with floors.”
Mr. Thompson’s diary for January 13th is of unusual interest. This
journal is human and vital. It tells us just what one man saw, did, and
understood; it reflects his mood; it has the heat of his life. It gives
us a series of snap-shots of the good ship “Bayern” with the rosy
eupeptic German Captain and the pale slender American Commander, the
crew--rather a poor lot of sailors got together at a few hours’
notice--the stewards neat and literal, the cast-iron routine, the
prescribed Italian doctor, and all the usual personnel of a North German
Lloyd liner, commandeered for unusual service, with the supreme
authority vested for the nonce in the American Commander, the quiet man
with a will of iron, who never seems to rest, but by his example
ceaselessly stimulates, vitalizes, every member of the ship’s company.
Mr. Thompson’s journal:
“January 13th: In Catania harbor unloading goods. Emptied after
holds before lunch. Afternoon sent away goods for Taormina. Went
ashore with Little Sisters of the Poor. Town not interesting. Came
back at dusk. Elliott got his nose cut on shore in an automobile
smash. A number of refugee children from Messina came on board to
be carried to Genoa. They had lost every one belonging to them.
Most of them were apparently happy except one older one. Eleven old
men, ten old women, six Little Sisters of the Poor, and six
children came on board. Busy serving out blankets till near
midnight.”
These twenty-one old people were between eighty and one hundred years of
age. The Sisters had assumed the care and future responsibility for
these poor souls.
The stay at Catania was the most important phase of the “Bayern’s”
cruise. Here the most significant work of the expedition was
accomplished. The Americans were brought into close and cordial relation
with the leaders of the relief work in Catania. They visited the refuges
and, finding how well they were administered and how grievously in need
of succor, they helped with money and all the remaining stores of the
“Bayern.”
At Catania the American Committee for the first time was brought into
direct touch with the Americans working at Taormina; here was another
channel through which the stream of American help could flow directly
from the source of supply to its destination, administered from first to
last by Americans. The policy of the committee was, as far as possible,
to employ Americans to disburse the American money and the supplies it
had purchased. It was more satisfactory to the contributors, and was of
great use to the earnest men and women who devoted themselves to the
cause. Here the committee came in contact, not only with Mr. Bowdoin and
Mr. Wood, those tireless workers from Taormina, but with Miss Katherine
Bennett Davis, one of the most significant figures among all those who
labored for Italy in her dark hour. They had expected to go to Syracuse,
and Mr. Cutting went thither by rail in order to learn the existing
conditions of the relief work. He reported that the work in Syracuse was
admirably organized, under the leadership of Miss Davis. It was found
best, however, not to take the ship to Syracuse, and Mr. Flint was sent
there with an American sailor to guard him and the large sum of money he
carried for Syracuse. The greater part was given to Miss Davis, the rest
was divided between the Sindaco and the Marchesa de Rudini.
The refugees taken on board at Catania added to the interest of life on
the “Bayern,” though the men in the hold had little time to notice
them; still they added a certain color and picturesqueness to the daily
routine. J. has memories of the little children dancing on the deck of
the “Bayern,” romping in and out of the piles of goods as they came up
from the hold; and strongest of all, of Sor Michaele, an old opera
singer, from the almshouse at Messina, who sat all day long at the piano
in the blue brocade saloon, playing and singing the operas of his youth.
In Catania the members of the “Bayern” expedition saw thousands of the
_superstiti_. Here they learned what the effects of the earthquake had
been upon the survivors.
“They had all been singed by death,” writes J. “They looked like death’s
heads with the grin and the terror of the skull in their faces. One
woman--I saw her once, I heard of her often--went from hospital to
hospital, to the refuges, to all the places where there were _profughi_,
asking the same question everywhere: ‘Have you here perchance a baby who
has the habit of sucking the two first fingers of his left hand?’ That
was the only clue she had to her lost child. I never could hear whether
or not she found him. In one of the refuges I saw a woman who was said
to be one of the richest people in Messina. She had lost every member of
her family, she had nothing in the world, not a suit of clothes, not a
crust, nothing but herself. Dr. Alessandrini, who is studying the
nervous effects of the earthquake, says that most of the survivors dream
continually of it. We saw one woman who had dreamed of it every night
and each time awoke in a convulsion of fright. They were in great doubt
if they could save her life. The children, even the quite grown ones of
fourteen or fifteen, however, forgot it all immediately. It was like a
bad dream to them.”
The automobile accident Thompson referred to, was telegraphed to Rome.
At ten o’clock that night I read an exaggerated account of it in a
newspaper. “The painter Elliott injured in an automobile accident,” was
the heading in the Roman Tribuna. In his letter J. makes light of the
accident.
“It was nothing but a collision, the jar of which drove my nose through
the plate-glass window of the automobile. Sicily is a bad place for
automobiles; the people won’t get out of the way. I heard one fellow
say, ‘Am I a goat that I should skip out of the way of this thing?’
They are half Oriental; it would be undignified to run in order to get
out of the way of a motor. Mr. Robert Winthrop has brought down a lot of
tetanus antitoxin. Captain Belknap has divided it between Messina and
Catania.”
Mr. Thompson’s journal:
“January 14th, Reggio di Calabria. Left Catania at four A.M. Went
on deck at sunrise. Fine effect on rocky coast and Etna in the
background with top covered in cloud. Reached Reggio about eight
A.M., but could find no anchorage, so circled about all day. Rough
weather. Sent away two life-boats of stores, but could not
discharge cargo of lumber taken on at Catania to build shacks at
Reggio. Stormy sea and sky with splendid sunset effects. Etna,
still with cloud-covered top, against a gold sky and masses of
purple cloud. Flint came on board in the evening and heard we were
at once to sail for Palermo, to relieve refugees in care of U. S.
Consul. Later toward midnight this plan was changed; we are to
discharge our stores and lumber here, and start for Palermo Friday
night. This day week we left Rome. It seems like a month ago.
Reggio on nearer view a sad sight. Lay off Messina for night.
“January 15th: Left Messina about 6:30 and came over to Reggio.
Stormy early, later cleared and day became splendid. Got well in
and anchored near the shore, close to Italian cruiser ‘Napoli.’ The
others went ashore and by ferry to Messina, but I had to see all
stores brought up. Everything up by 11:30, and we put the lumber
over in bundles to be towed ashore by boats and launch. Afternoon
uneventful for me. Etna clear against the sky. Got all lumber over
the side and had boatload of goods away, and left Reggio at seven
P. M. for Messina. Accounts of condition of city from our people
very sad. Persons said to have been taken alive from the ruins two
days ago. Our people could hear the cries of a buried dog. The U.
S. S. ‘Illinois’ had party of three hundred men digging for bodies
at Consulate. At last succeeded in finding bodies of Consul and his
wife. Five people taken out alive today at Messina. Two had food.
Left Messina at 10:55 for Palermo.”
At Reggio the nurses, J., and another member of the expedition were
having their lunch on the outskirts of the town close by the station.
Near where they sat the railroad carriages, swept off the track and out
to sea by the tidal wave, lay half submerged in the water, washing idly
to and fro, one of the strangest sights of all that topsy-turvy world.
The carriages were doubly lost, first to the railroad company for
transporting passengers, second to the poor _profughi_ who used the
railroad carriages as houses. Happy the family who could find shelter in
one of them from rain and cold!
As the party from the “Bayern” were finishing lunch, an orderly from
Captain Cagni brought an invitation to come to headquarters and have
some hot coffee. The invitation was accepted with glee, and they waited
while the coffee was made by one of the soldiers. It was hot, it was
black, but, alas, it was salt. The supply of fresh water was so meagre
that they used sea water to wash the dishes, and the orderly who made
the coffee made the mistake of taking salt water instead of fresh. There
were a thousand apologies, and the hospitable host begged the guests to
wait till a fresh pot of coffee was brewed, but time pressed, and they
were due on board the “Bayern.” One of the Americans, adding brandy to
his coffee, tried to drink it with painful results. They gave the
remains of their luncheon to some children; every crumb of food was
precious, even at Reggio where the suffering from hunger was never so
great as at Messina. Captain Cagni saw to that! First he commandeered
all the cattle in the neighborhood and served them out in rations as
beef. When the cattle gave out, the donkeys were gathered in and served
out as beef, mind you, always beef. Finally the dogs and cats were
served out in the same way. Captain Cagni said it was beef, so beef it
was.
Captain Belknap had received several messages from Mr. Bishop, the
American Consul at Palermo, asking that the “Bayern” visit that place,
where the crowd of _profughi_ was so enormous that the Palermitans could
not begin to feed and clothe them. It was decided to visit Palermo on
the way from the Straits of Death back to Civitavecchia. The fifteenth
of January was the last day of their stay in the ruined districts.
Mr. Thompson’s diary:
“January 16th: Gray morning early. Fine coast. Reached Palermo 9:30
and anchored outside breakwater. Some delay in getting permission
from port authorities to land. Nurses and some of our party went
ashore to buy clothing for the refugees. Then took drive about the
city. Visited hurriedly royal palace and most interesting chapel
with mosaics, one of the finest things of the kind I have ever
seen. The cathedral inside quite uninteresting. Splendid view over
the city and harbor and mountains from terrace of palace. Got back
to lunch at two P.M. Visitors after lunch. Helped to make
translation of flowery address to Captain. Warship ‘Garibaldi’ went
to sea just before sunset, passing very close. We left at seven
P.M. for Civitavecchia and Rome. At dinner our Captain made a
speech, saying how well we had all worked under him. Other speeches
followed; some of us stayed on deck till eleven P.M. At Palermo
gave 30,000 francs and landed 1,200 mattresses and 1,300 kilos of
food from ship stores.
“January 17th: At sea going to Civitavecchia. Fine day. Blue sea
with white caps and more motion than any time since we left on
this cruise. Took some snaps of old men and children, refugees, but
they and all our Little Sisters of the Poor were seasick. Morning
packed and handed over all my papers to Gay and wrote letters.
After lunch busy till we landed, helping Flint and Elliott pay
bills on ship. Reached Civitavecchia at about 3:30, but did not
anchor for an hour. Finally got off in launch, towing two
life-boats (the boats Belknap had commandeered before they left
Civitavecchia; the third was lost by the clumsy sailors when they
landed the goods at Messina the day of the dreadful storm).
Ambassador and Mrs. Griscom and others waiting. After some delay we
got off and reached Rome about eight. Have come back tired out but
well. Very glad I went but glad to get back.”
Truly misery makes strange bedfellows! The misery of Messina had brought
together an oddly assorted company of volunteers on board the “Bayern.”
There was Mr. Gay, the Secretary of the Committee, a Fellow of Harvard
College settled in Rome, who has devoted many years to the preparation
of a History of the Italian Risorgimento; his splendid library at the
Palazzo Orsini contains a remarkable collection of books and pamphlets
on the subject. There was William Hooper of Boston, a man of affairs and
a famous Harvard athlete, who had left the ease of his apartment
opposite the Palazzo Margherita in Rome to act as treasurer to the
expedition. There was Wilfred Thompson, the painter, who had left his
studio and his little cat, to act as supercargo; Robert Hale, another
painter, who in the list of assistants is set down as an assistant in
the forward hold; the Avvocato Giordano, one of the most brilliant of
the writers on the Tribuna. There was Weston Flint, the assistant
treasurer, four Italian doctors, six nurses, and John Elliott (J.), who
had left his studio to act “as interpreter and to assist in after holds
and elsewhere.” These were the permanent members of the expedition. Now
and then across this constellation of fixed stars flamed the meteor
Chanler, a trail of glory behind him, and the indomitable Cutting, our
Consul from Milan, who served in a thousand capacities beside inducing
the German sailors to carry up the heavy cases to the temporary
Consulate. They had some mishaps of course. The first day Mr. Gay fell
down and broke a rib; the same day J. tumbled down an iron ladder into
the hold and scraped the flesh off his lean shanks. Thompson, who had a
cough, was drenched to the skin over and over again--that did not
improve his health--and Cutting--alas and alas, that gallant soul who
could never think of himself, had many a ducking besides the one
Thompson describes, and endured endless discomforts at the “temporary
Consulate” where he, Chanler and Major Landis lived during those first
ghastly days. The only tie that bound together these men of varying
tastes and habits, was the Red Cross each wore on his arm. In all the
letters, reports, journals that tell the story of the “Bayern’s” cruise
the most striking thing is the way these men speak of each other. Every
man saw his comrades in a golden glow of enthusiasm; they were all good
men and true in their fellows’ eyes!
As the “Bayern” steamed across the harbor of Civitavecchia J. looked
into the blue brocade saloon. Sor Michaele, the old opera singer, sat at
the white and gold piano, his stiff fingers surprisingly limbered up,
striking the keys briskly, while his shrunken voice quavered out
“Spirito Gentil,” the glorious aria from La Favorita that he had sung in
his far off youth, now made familiar the world over by Caruso and the
“Victor.” After he had struck the last chords, the old man’s head
dropped on his breast and he began to sob.
“_Coraggio!_” cried J., “what is wrong with you? We’re almost there;
your troubles are nearly over.”
“It is all finished,” sobbed the old man. “I have not been so happy for
twenty years as I have been on board this ship. At the almshouse there
is no piano; who knows if I shall ever see one again?”
* * * * *
Soon after the “Bayern’s” return, the Ambassador despatched a relief
expedition under the leadership of Mr. Gay to the Calabrian mountain
towns. Mr. Gay was accompanied by Captain Armando Mola of the Italian
army, and Mr. W. Earl Dodge, who took with him his large automobile,
thereby adding greatly to the effectiveness of the expedition. They had
a wonderful trip, visiting forty villages, some of them almost
inaccessible mountain hamlets. During the eleven days their trip
lasted, they brought help to many a forlorn community that had
heretofore received no outside assistance since the disaster. Mr. Gay
has written an admirable report of the expedition, so full, so graphic,
that it leaves nothing for me to say, save that I am thankful that this
chapter of the romance of the American Relief Work has been told so
well. The report should be read by all interested in knowing the full
scope of the work. Mr. Gay’s letter to the Ambassador written from
Palmi, gives a striking picture of what he saw and accomplished.
“PALMI, February 10th, 1909.
“AMERICAN AMBASSADOR, “Rome--Palazzo del Drago.
“Tuesday, after an hour and a half in the automobile on very bad
roads, and three hours on mules, we arrived in a snowstorm at S.
Cristina, with nine mules loaded with clothing, and were received
like the Messiah. We bought on the spot, at a low figure, 12,500
_lire_ worth of standing timber, securing thus a triple benefit to
the sufferers, namely, furnishing shelter to the homeless, saving
the transport on the lumber which represents forty per cent. of
the cost, and giving work to the unoccupied in cutting the wood.
Today we are again visiting villages in the automobile. Tomorrow we
shall start at daybreak in the automobile for Cittanova, Gerace,
Melito, and Reggio. I am returning 5000 _lire_ to the Committee,
left over from the letter of credit on Palmi. We should like, if
possible, a new letter of credit on Reggio for whatever amount the
Committee thinks advisable.
“We should also like for General Tarditi, addressed as before, a
freight car of miscellaneous supplies as follows: 400 litres of
benzine to replace what we have borrowed here; 400 blankets; 200
panes of glass 60 centimetres square; 100 locks, with ordinary keys
but all different; together with the following supplies for use in
the hospital which will be opened within a week: 50 white varnished
chairs, with 6 arm-chairs for the sick, to match; 50 wrappers, 50
pair of slippers, and 50 caps for the sick; 6 wall washstands of
white earthen ware; 6 alcohol stoves which can be had from
Bianchelli for about 35 _lire_ each; 400 square metres of oil-cloth
of a light color, to cover ceilings of the hospital wards; 200
square metres of the same of a dark color, to cover the
wainscoting; 350 square metres of linoleum of a dark color for
floors.
“Our telegraphic address tomorrow will be, Telegraph Office,
Reggio.
“We shall telephone tonight. All well.
“GAY.”
V
ROYAL VISITORS
“Not a rose!” Vera scanned the sunny south wall where Ignazio, the
gardener, has trained the hardy roses. It has been his boast that we can
gather at least one rose every day of the year.
“What do you expect? The earthquake has turned the calendar topsy-turvy.
Nena says this is the coldest winter she remembers; she must be nearly a
hundred.”
It was the terrace hour; Vera had dropped in to help with the flowers.
It was too cold to water them, so we “pottered about,” weeded, and
hunted snails.
“That’s a brave flower! See, it has three blossoms; if the sun comes out
tomorrow there may be more.” Vera counted the pretty trumpet-shaped
blossoms of the freesia, growing in the old terra-cotta cinerary urn.
“This once held the ashes of a soldier of the Pretorian Guard,” said
Vera. She had given us the urn. “Do you suppose a pinch of his dust
remains in it? There’s your freesia’s courage accounted for. I wonder
what he was called. Herminius, Spurius Lartius? There was neither name
nor date when I bought it; they must have been on the missing cover.
What noble action!” Vera’s thumb followed, with the sculptor’s gesture,
the lines of the Pretorian, modelled in low relief on the urn. He wears
a mantle, helmet and greaves; his spear is raised against a crouching
barbarian. “He must have been a fine man, our Pretorian, though this
isn’t a portrait, only a type. Oh, how civilized those old Romans were!
No ugly bones, no grinning skulls. The worn-out body to the clean flame,
the handful of ashes to this graceful urn, that two thousand years after
the Pretorian’s death serves as a flower pot.”
“I believe his name was Philippus,” I said, “and that he looked like our
Philippus. The regiment has returned from Messina without him. I fear
something has happened to our handsome soldier.”
“Hush!” cried Vera. “The earthquake was a month ago; it still is the
only thing we talk or think about.”
“Some of our friends begin to forget. The mother of a pretty girl was
grumbling today because the Queen says there shall be no court balls, no
more dancing this season. She does not forget; no one who has seen
Messina forgets!”
“Come, let us walk!” There was a touch of tramontana in the air, and we
began to pace up and down the terrace, Romulus, Vera’s uncouth puppy,
shambling at her heel. The bells of St. Peter’s were ringing the Ave
Maria; from the Pincio came little gusts of music,--the band was playing
Cavalleria Rusticana. At either end of the terrace we lingered to feast
on the beauty of the view; to the east the white road climbs zigzag from
the Piazza del Popolo to the Pincio, with its crown of dark cypresses
and stone pines, its wonderful clipped ilex walk that leads to the Villa
Medici, home of nightingale and rose. To the west we looked down to the
yellow Tiber, angry and swollen, hurrying to the sea. The river was
higher than I ever saw it; the driftwood, caught by the piers of the
Ponte Margherita, reached half-way to the level of the bridge.
“A thousand apologies!” said a voice behind us; “is not this the
tortoise of your Excellency? The German maid found it on the terrace of
the Princess.”
It was Ignazio, holding between scornful thumb and finger that yellow
mottled vagrant, Jeremy Bentham, who clawed the air furiously with his
ridiculous short legs and snapped fiercely at Ignazio.
“You are aware the tortoise is ours; you yourself carved that date upon
his shell. If you had stopped the hole in the wall this would not have
happened.”
“Excellency” (Ignazio’s bill was paid that morning; he will call me
“Excellency” till the next is due, then it will be “Signora”),
“Excellency, this is the most obstinate of all animals, the slowest, the
idlest, the most useless.” Ignazio dipped the tortoise in the fountain,
then laid him on the parapet out of reach of Romulus, who was making
frantic efforts to get at him.
“You yourself tell me he eats the slugs and snails that destroy our
flowers!”
“I repeat it, but he has embarrassed me extremely in regard to the
Princess, who becomes ill at the sight of him. This is the third time he
has invaded her terrace.”
“How about that boy from Messina you promised to employ?” asked Vera.
“He is quite well again; it’s time he went to work. I can’t have him
idling about my kitchen any longer.”
Ignazio would not have come up to the terrace had he known Vera was
there. He nervously nibbled the yellow fibre he had brought to tie up
the passion-flower vine.
“Excellency, no! I said I would _try_ to find him employment. I have
done so. Capperi! I have asked an infinite number of persons--always the
same answer. In Rome there is not work enough for the Romans, nor bread
to spare. The Sicilians must go back to Sicily, or,” he waved his hand
vaguely towards Ostia, “over there.” Over there meant to America.
“Where were you born, Ignazio?” I interrupted. “You do not speak like a
Romano di Roma.” His glance was a reproach; I had betrayed him.
“It is true, I am from Siena--but there is a difference between an
Umbrian and a Sicilian!”
“It is always the same story!” I said. “I have asked every plumber in
Rome to employ Francesco Calabresi. They will give money, bread,
clothes; to a man they refuse him work.”