From the ruins of his beautiful house, from the flowered terrace,
covered for one meter with vulcanic stones and cinders, comes Luigi
Scudieri, a friend of ours, a witness of the great cataclism. His
gay and open expression has not changed, his family is saved, all of
them, from his old parents to his children. The palaces of his noble
and powerful family have tumbled down one after the other and their
rich fabrics, their vast territories are now buried, for many, many
years perhaps. Their fortune is compromised, yet he is back here since
four or five days, back in Ottaiano, actively busying himself around,
advising, guiding, conforting the more desolate, the desperate, helping
every one, speaking to every body.
Of course I ask him to tell me all about the destruction of Ottaiano,
but notwithstanding his natural brightness, he gets confused and
troubled while he speaks.
--Dear Donna Matilde, in the first hours of Saturday night, I must
confess, we were not much preoccupied. As you know, we have had several
showers of cinders here in Ottaiano, but they were short and harmless.
Nothing was to be feared, that evening, as I tell you, but towards
mid-night the preoccupation began. The crater had fallen in, and at
every breath of the Vulcano, a more and more increasing fall of ashes
came down, passing over the mountain of Somma which protects us, and
striking the whole of our place. The alarm bells began to ring.
--How terrible! I exclaim.
--It was well they rang the bells he says. The peasants who had all
returned home for the holy week, were all fast asleep, the women at
the sound of the bells, came out from their houses, running madly away,
and to be sure many more would have died had the bells not rung.
--How many died here in Ottaiano?
--About seventy, and even those might have been saved, but the night
was so dark and the fall of ashes so thick.
--Did they all seem to lose their mind?
--In the beginning no! I telegraphed to Naples, and the poor telegraph
operator who sent my telegram, and whose courage and devotion should be
enhanced, sent these telegrams under the flashes of the mountain.
Twice the electric shocks threw her down. One only of my three wires,
the one to the Military Comand reached its destination.
--And your family, I ask?
He seems moved and hesitating.
--Don't speak to me about that, he exclaims, those hours have been
terrible! When I saw that we had to run away, I was obliged to nearly
carry my wife who was ill and weak, on the road. Quite exhausted and
discouraged, she stopped to recommend me the children, asking me to let
her die there in that very place. I knew nothing about my father and
mother; my nephews have saved them, they had sworn to die but to save
their grand parents, these brave boys. Only after four days I learned
that all my people were saved.
--And where did they all go?
--To Avellino! One would hardly believe it! we reached Avellino by
an extra train, and there we received from all the population, and
principally from good Achille Vetroni, a warm hospitality.
You can tell it to every body in honour of Vetroni and Avellino.
Imagine that in the shops, they refused to be paid, when we went to buy
shoes and boots.
Yes, they have really done prodigies of devotion and kindness.
Prodigies! Tell every body what the hospitality of Sarno has been
for the people from Ottaiano, how touching! You must also add that
the first good example, came from the seminary. The good rector has
promptly given up his room to M. Cola, who was flying from Ottaiano,
quite ill. The seminarists have distributed their own clothes to the
people. One can hardly realize all that has been done for the people of
Ottaiano everywhere they have gone, to Sarno, Caserta, Castellammare,
Marigliano and Nola. We shall never forget it.
--And what will you do now? I ask him after a brief silence.
--With what? he asks me.
--With Ottaiano.
--Rebuild it all, he answers me, quietly.
--Rebuild it all?
--And what else can we do? We are fourteen thousand. Four thousand
have already returned. Where do you want us to go? To Turin? To Milan?
It is not possible. Don't you see? Settle in the neighbourhood? At
Portici! at Torre Annunziata? We shall always be under the Vesuvius,
consequently, in constant danger. Better remain where we are.
But the houses have tumbled down. What then?
The roofs yes, but the walls are not cracked.
We shall have to build the new houses with arched small iron vaults
little by little! you will all help us, won't you? How can one abandon
one's own country? Here all of us possess much or little land, will you
take from us also the hope of redeeming it for our children? What would
become of us in Milan, Turin, even in Naples?
How could we hope to build up again, if we went away? But we shall need
much help.... I say.... You all must unite with us. And we shall work,
and we shall have to make the poor peasants work, and give them prizes
for their work, and no alms nor any kind of charity.
Life and hope are still strong in this man who has seen death near him
and his people, who has seen his village tumble down, and who is now
speaking only of its resurrection.