This has been one of the worst and saddest of the five days of tragic
anguish of things, and men. I reached Somma Vesuviana at half past
three, and the automobile which was carrying me, was obliged to stop
quite outside the town closed, and over-powered as it was by the new
strata of dust and lappillus. Then with the companions of this sad but
dutiful excursion we have gone on on foot, sinking so deeply at every
step, that fatigue seemed and was almost umbearable.--Few people
peeped out of the doors of their country houses, nearly all covered
and hidden under the ashes and lappillus, and spoke of two towns not
very near, but not far, quite destroyed; S. Giuseppe and Ottaiano.
These people told us of the dead of the many dead and wounded that
were there and insisted before our incredulity. We thought that those
poor peasants lied or exaggerated, we did not really believe it, but
we hoped it! But alas! they were right and nothing of all that had
happened there had been known, till the morning in Naples, and we
ourselves, had climbed the sad calvary, only through vague presentiment
of misfortune. It was quite true that more than three-hundred people
lay dead between Ottaiano and S. Giuseppe. We walked dumb and trembling
with deep sorrow, among stones and lappillus stopping now and then
as if exhausted. An automobile had stopped in the midst of Somma
Vesuviana, it had found it impossible to proceed, and was guarded by
a chauffeur only. Two brave carabineers roamed sadly about, and when
we asked them whose the automobile was, I was informed it belonged to
the Duchess of Aosta, who having taken her leave from their Majesties
about twelve o'clock, had gone up to Somma Vesuviana a little after
mid-day. Not having been able to proceed towards Ottaiano either by the
automobile or by carriage or horses since there were none to be had,
and quite decided to reach Ottaiano, she had started on foot, on a road
buried under ashes and lappillus, a road, which in ordinary times can
be run over in two hours, and over which she had walked at least for
four painful ones. Calm and resolute she had not hesitated a moment to
undertake that difficult walk, but had gone through the whole way in a
simple and silent manner reaching Ottaiano all alone on monday 9th
of April, where pale with emotion she had witnessed the unburying of
the first fifty dead. Then she had given all her cares and attendance
to each of the bodies, with her own charitable hands with her kind and
sweet words, with the tenderest encouragement to the most unfortunate.
And till sun-set in that terrible day in which all the horror of the
conflagration seemed worst, since the catastrophe of Pompei seemed to
be renewed in Ottaiano and in S. Giuseppe, there among the dead and the
wounded stood the Duchess of Aosta helping the work of the doctors,
giving orders, and providing for all. And when night fell covering so
many funestous things, she got up on a horse, a simple carabineer's
horse and sinking deep in rocks, and stones she reached at night Somma
Vesuviana and returned to the Royal house of Capodimonte, letting
nobody know what her day and her work had been.
*
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I relate this fact in its high simplicity since it does not only
testify to the goodness of this woman but to her incomparable moral
valour, since it is not only an act of charity, but from a woman, from
a lady, from a princess it is an act of heroism. And of these deeds
Elena of Aosta the daughter of the king of France, has accomplished a
great many every day in this terrible week. She has gone all about the
places where it is difficult and dangerous to go, in every place worthy
of a great soul and fibre like hers is; where men, and especially men,
have been afraid to go, she has gone bravely several times where need
was most urgent, and where storm seemed stronger, there she has gone:
and every where her steps have been usefully taken, her vivid strength
has been used for the good, her hands have helped and consoled, her
will has accomplished miracles. And do you know in what manner? Without
official notices, without any pomp, without anybody knowing it, almost
as if in secrecy. Often people have not known her, and many don't know
now that she, who has quenched the thirst and hunger of so many, she
who has helped the dying in the ruins and fire, is the descendant of S.
Louis.
She has hidden herself when meeting people who could notice her, she
has always worn modest and dark clothes, and her face has been hidden
by veils, and she has withdrawn when frivolous and curious people
have tried to observe her doings. This noble woman has not found any
rest before this terrible misfortune of ours, and her work has been a
high spiritual beauty, and the modesty and silence with which she has
surrounded herself has been really sublime. And I stamp here her moral
image with humble admiration and proud to know she is a woman as I am;
and I am happy not to have to write down only in the daily news the
Duchess of Aosta wore on her white satin waist a magnificent emerald
pin; I am happy that a feminine soul in a vigorous fibre should show
the world what is the power of virtue in a woman and in a christian.
And for all those whom she has conforted really, in the terrible hour
not caring herself for dangers and unconforts, for all the wounded and
agonizing ones, for all those who weep, and were consoled by her, I
implore on her all God's blessings and may her life be sowed with all
goods, and may her children be blessed through her.