EARLY DAYS OF RELIEF

HON. ELIHU ROOTCopyright, Harris-Ewing, ’08.EARLY DAYS OF RELIEFBY W. BAYARD CUTTING, JR.Special Representative of the American National Red Cross.

HON. ELIHU ROOTCopyright, Harris-Ewing, ’08.

BY W. BAYARD CUTTING, JR.Special Representative of the American National Red Cross.

Mr. W. Bayard Cutting, the American Vice-Consul at Milan, who was promptly sent to the scene of the disaster by the Ambassador at Rome to look after American and consular interests, was requested by the American Red Cross to act there as its Special Representative, and $15,000 was placed at his disposition to meet any immediate needs, especially those of any Americans he might discover among the victims. Mr. Cutting most kindly consented to act in this capacity. He was on the scene within a few days of the catastrophe, and his interesting article written for theBulletingives a graphic description of the early days of the relief work. The Red Cross is not only indebted to Mr. Cutting for this article, but for the valuable aid he rendered to the Society.—Editor.

When the steamerNord Amerikaentered the harbor of Messina on the morning of January 2, 1909, there was no excited rush among the passengers to get a first view of the town. We knew that we were about to have one of the greatest impressions of our life, to see a panorama of desolation and destruction such as the world has rarely presented in the history of man. Amid that desolation we were to live for days and weeks, and to perform trying duties; new sensations would soon crowd upon us; curiosity would be satisfied all too soon. Meanwhile there was no reason for hurryingto a scene of horror. Thus we sat uneasily in the saloon, where we had spent a night of seasick misery, and tried to munch dry bread and ship’s biscuit, inventing pretexts for not going on deck. We all dreaded the flames and the ruins, and the corpses floating through the straits, up and down with the tide. Then the engines stopped; we had arrived, and must go ashore. Each of us stuffed a loaf or a biscuit into his pocket, and had a look at his revolver. Those few who had water-bottles filled them. With nerves braced to face any horrors, we ascended the companion way.

HON. JAMES TANNERCopyright, Harris-Ewing, ’08.

We saw what the traveler to Messina has seen through the centuries—one of the beautiful places of the earth bathed in the light of the rising sun. We were close to the shore, it is true, and could make out the ruins. The palaces fronting along the stately Marina were roofless. There were gaps between the palaces—white heaps of debris. Toppling buildings, and houses without outer walls, like children’s doll houses, could be made out. Here and there out of a roof came flames and curling smoke. But to see all this one had to look for it. What attracted the eye, and compelled attention through the magical appeal of its beauty, was a broad expanse of still water, protected from the sea by a projecting point of land; then a flat water front, two or three miles long; and behind, circle after circle of hills, bewildering in their rich variety of form and color. This was the real Messina, you felt, what an ancient phraseology would call its formal and final causes. With those fertile hills, with this spacious harbor, situated on a principal trade route, Messina would always be a city. Houses and inhabitants there would always be to embody the Messina idea, to fulfill the Messina purpose.

Hon. W. Bayard Cutting, Jr. U. S. Vice-Consul at Milan. Special Representative of the American Red Cross.

The port was filled with ships, flying the flags of many nations. Boatmen in rowboats surrounded theNord Amerikaand offered to take us ashore. There was nothing catastrophic or even dramatic in their appearance and manner. I was almost disappointed to see them so well dressed, and pleased, on the other hand, to observe that they did not attempt to bargain. From the boatmen, as a matter of fact, when I talked to them, I first derived that strong impression of the oriental affinity of the Sicilians which deepened with every day of my stay in Messina. Their mood was one of submission, unsurprised and unassertive, to the hard hand of fate. They did not rebel nor complain, and on the other hand they would not strive. Life had ceased to have any value; why trouble about its prolongation? It was folly to think of building a comfortable house, when there was no one left to occupy it; or to earn money which could bring no sweetness. So most of them sat idly in the streets, or under the roof of the market, and took what food was put before them; or stood watching the soldiers dig in their own homes, where their families were buried, without raising a hand to help. The few who worked, like our boatmen, did not care what pay they received. A piece of bread they were glad to get; but when it was a matter of money, one lira or five was all the same.

This apathy of the native population, amounting to a kind of stupor, since it abolished even begging, stood out sharply before us, when we went ashore, in contrast to the activity of the military forces. As we turned to the left down the long Marina—we had landed near the northern extremity of the town and it was clear that the center of things was far to the south—the way was so crowded that we could not walk more than two abreast, and were often obliged to fall into single file. The Marina is a broad promenade along the water’s edge; but at least half its width was blocked with debris from the palaces at the back; and on the water side the way was stopped by impediments of all kinds; piles of lumber, blanket heaps and rude huts put up for temporary shelter—tarpaulins spread over poles, for the most part. As we walked down the middle, picking our way among the cracks and fissures in the ground, we were constantly making way for troops of soldiers with spades and pick-axes over their shoulders. Almost equally numerous were the parties bearing long lines of litters. They were marching in our direction or else out of side streets to our right; and as they passed we looked nervously at each burden, to see whether the face was uncovered. Sometimes it was; occasionally even the occupant of the litter was raised on his elbow, staring with uncomprehending curiosity at the crowd on either side. More often no face was exposed; then we knew that the man was one of those dead who encumbered the path to the living. No bodies were touched, we knew, unless they actually impeded the work of rescue. Otherwise they must be left alone; the living had the first claim. Yet the line of litters was unending.

Illustrating the Capriciousness of the Earthquake.Soldiers Bearing a Wounded Man Rescued on the Seventh Day After the Earthquake.

Illustrating the Capriciousness of the Earthquake.

Soldiers Bearing a Wounded Man Rescued on the Seventh Day After the Earthquake.

On our right the view of the town was screened by a line of fairly intact house fronts. The principal palaces of Messina had flanked the Marina; their outer walls had resisted bravely, on the whole. Such glimpses as we got of the interiors made it clear that those walls were mere shells; still they gave to the Marina a deceptive appearance of solidity. Between the palaces, however, came long heaps of mere debris, thirty or forty feet high. One of them we knew must be our consulate; but which? No one could tell us. No one could even direct us to the military headquarters, or to the office of the Prefect. The Italian officers knew less than the native inhabitants; they were strangers and newcomers like ourselves. We walked ahead at random towards the curve at the southern end of the harbor where masts and funnels were most numerous. Occasionally, as we passed a side street less completely blocked than the rest, we got a view of the interior of the town—an incoherent extravagance of ruin such as no pen can describe. The street always ended in a mountainous mass of wreckage; but the houses at the sides had assumed every variety of fantastic attitude. Beams and pillars crossing at absurd angles; windows twisted to impossible shapes, floors like “montagnes russes;” roofs half detached and protruding, preserved in place quite inexplicably. And then front walls torn away, laying bare the interior of apartments. In the same house one room would be a heap of wreckage, and its neighbor absolutely intact, with the music open at the piano, a marked book on the table, and the Italian Royal Family looking down from the walls. A third room perhaps held nothing but a chandelier, but that chandelier in perfect condition, without a broken globe. No two houses were alike; the earthquake had picked its victims here and there, following no predictable rule. Sometimes the victims could be seen lying in their own houses. Here and there a rope of knotted sheets hanging from a window showed where someone had escaped. And everywhere solitude and silence, save for the sound of the pick and the shovel. Only the soldiers and officials were allowed in the town: all others must remain on the Marina.

A little this side of the Municipio, or city hall, which we identified through the flames and smoke in which it was enveloped, we came upon a Red Cross station—a square building belonging to the Custom House. Here, stretched out in the sun, lay the rescued of the day—five or six only, for it was not yet nine o’clock. Opposite the Municipio was the covered market, now the home of hundreds of survivors, and a place where bread was distributed. Between the market and the Municipio a marble Neptune of the eighteenth century still posed in nude absurdity. The most trivial of figures in the most trivial of poses had been spared, to the tips of his silly fingers, to stand between the flaming wreckage of the palace and the human wreckage of the market. Still further along, where the Marina widened again, we came upon the landing where the dead were laid out—men, women and children, all deposited in haste under some inadequate covering; a ghastly sight. From time to time a row boat would come up to the landing. The bodies were piled into it, and rowed out to sea.

The Commander-in-Chief, we ascertained at last, could be found on the Duca di Genova, a steamer of the merchant marine anchored at the southern end of the harbor. Our struggle through the crowds to the landing stage; our fruitless efforts to get a boat; our final success, through the help of a friendly Italian officer; our visits to one ship and another, to authorities military and civil; our vain attempts to extract even the simplest information, such as the situation of our consulate and the fate of our consul; all this would be as dreary to tell as it was to experience. After three or four hours of ceaseless effort we returned to the shore with the following net acquisitions: an order for a tent,which we might pitch at a place to be appointed by the General in command of the third sector; permission to send one short official telegram; and a friend.

The friend was Mr. Baylis Heynes, a British merchant of Messina, who represented the firm of Peirce Brothers. His house had been spared by the earthquake. After taking his wife and children to a villa outside of the town, he had hurried back without a thought for personal safety or comfort and had thrown himself into the work of saving lives and property. In the villa his wife was caring for more than fifty destitute Messinesi, with such little food and clothing as she could procure. Mr. Heynes meanwhile was indefatigable in the work of rescue; and his coolness and intelligence at a time when everyone else was excited and flustered had already proved of inestimable value. He now offered us his house for a consulate, and the large garden behind for a Red Cross hospital. They were situated at the extreme northern end of the town, more than two miles from the headquarter’s ships. But the house was solid and uninjured and the garden spacious; it was in fact the “Lawn Tennis Club” of Messina. We accepted gladly Mr. Heynes’ kind offer, and started back with him to inspect the premises.

Ten Wounded. Lying by the Red Cross Station. Rescued on the Morning of the Eighth Day After the Earthquake.

It was no longer morning. The sun had been shining brightly for many hours. The smell of the dead rose from the earth, unendurably penetrating. It floated across the Marina on a light shore breeze; then at places it became suddenly pungent, so pungent that you expected to tread upon the cause. The ruined masses beside us took on a new horror. Beneath them, close to the dead of whose presence we were unconscious, were thousands of living, whose only air was the air we smelt. How few the soldiers seemed, in comparison to the gigantic task of excavation! And why were they all away? Poor men, they needed their mid-day rest, perhaps the full three hours they were given; but could there not be twice as many, working in relays?

Mr. Heynes pointed out the Consulate—perhaps the largest, solidest, most hopeless mass of rubbish in the whole of Messina. Nothing deserving the name of an object was discernable in the whole pile, except the long flag-staff which protruded from the heap towards the street. The Consulate had been a corner house on a side street; surely we ought to be able to identify at least the remains of the stone arch which had marked the entrance to the street. But the mass was absolutely compact and uniform, obliterating every trace of an opening. It was not astonishing that the soldiers had left that particular pile unexcavated. Hundreds of men would be needed, for many days, to get to the bottom of the mound; and what chance was there, at the end, of finding a survivor? The fate of Dr. and Mrs. Cheney was already a tragic certainty; the best that could be hoped was that their death had been instantaneous.

The Ruins of the American Consulate.

Not far beyond the Consulate, on a side street near the Piazza Vittoria (now a large camp, filled with tarpaulin shacks), we saw the ruined house of Mr. Joseph Peirce, who had been our vice-consul until six days before the earthquake. A few soldiers were working in the heap; and several of the former occupants of the building were standing by, each waiting for some relative to be disinterred. One of the bystanders had been two days buried under the house, but had worked himself near enough to the surface to make himself heard, and had thus been rescued. All had known Mr. Peirce; two said they had seen him on the second day after the earthquake, his body buried and terribly crushed, his head alone appearing out of the wreckage. They told us that his brother had come to save him, but had not been able to remove the heavy pile of masonry and beams. When all efforts proved unavailing the brother had said goodbye to Mr. Peirce and stood there till he died. The body was gone now, evidently the brother had removed it later.

When we had returned to the Marina, near the point where we had first landed, we found our baggage heaped in the middle of the road. To my servant, Antonio Alegiani, who sat upon the pile, an old man was talking voluble English without noticing that he was not understood. The stranger introduced himself as John B. Agresta, a naturalized American, a pensioner of the Civil War and a very important person at the consulate. He had been guide and interpreter. He had done much work for Dr. Cheney. He would show us everything, the part of the house where the Cheneys slept, the office, the safe; especially the safe. In it we should find two thousand lire belonging to him (Agresta). Why did we not come at once instead of wasting time talking to people who knew nothing? Dr. Cheney was dead, of course, and Mrs. Cheney. And Mr. Lupton? Yes, he was dead, too, and there was no doubt of it. Agresta had seen him the night before the earthquake, and had since seen his hotel, not a stone of it in place. Poor Mr. Lupton was certainly dead.

Just at this moment a young man with a pipe in his mouth came round the corner. “Why, hello, Agresta,” he said, “glad to see you alive.” It was Lupton himself, our vice-consul. We thought he must have stepped out of a ruin, or been dug out; in our greeting, no doubt, was something of the awe with which one would salute a visitor from the other world. Lupton soon explained that he had never left the earth, nor even its surface. Half of his hotel had been spared; he had walked down the stairs into the black street, and waded about in water up to his knees till morning dawned. The story has been published in his own words; I wish I could insert the anecdotes and reproduce the turns of the phrases with which he made us see, as in a flash, that prodigious morning of December 28th. We told him we had come to help him, and put ourselves under his orders; he seemed glad to see us; we were soon friends. Together we set out to inspect Mr. Heynes’ house and garden.

It was a solid two-story building, one of an uninjured block; the very house, as a tablet reminded us, in which Garibaldi had lived at the time of his triumphant entrance into Messina at the head of the Thousand. Over the door we set up the American shield, and hung out the flag from a corner window. A week later the British flag flew beside it. Mr. Heynes had been appointed acting vice-consul of his nation. Meanwhile we turned the entrance hall below into a consular office, and set up our beds in the large garden behind, under a tent, so soon as we were able to obtain that coveted article. Sleeping upstairs was unsafe, so long as we continued to have four or five shocks a day, some of them severe enough to bring down a number of buildings.

Once settled, three problems confronted us; to excavate the old consulate, to ascertain the fate of such Americans as had been in Sicily at the time of the earthquake, and to bring relief to the suffering population of Messina.

The first task fell almost entirely to Major Landis, our Military Attachè at the Embassy in Rome. On the night of our arrival a squad of thirty Italian soldiers, under a lieutenant, was put at his disposition for the excavation of the consulate, and there he spent the work hours of the next fortnight. Towards the end the Italian soldiers were replaced by sailors from our own warships; it was the crew of theIllinoiswho finally discovered the remains of Dr. and Mrs. Cheney. They were found at the very bottom of the pile, only four feet above the street level, though their bedroom had been on the second floor. They had been killed at once and apparently without suffering; it was reasonable to hope that no return of consciousness had broken the slumber from which they passed into eternal rest.

Ruins of the House of Mr. Joseph Peirce, Former American Vice-Consul.Excavating the Ruins of Mr. Peirce’s House.

Ruins of the House of Mr. Joseph Peirce, Former American Vice-Consul.

Excavating the Ruins of Mr. Peirce’s House.

Our second duty was to find and succor Americans. Among the survivors at Messina, besides Dr. Lupton and Agresta, we found only one family, a naturalized American with the six small children of one of his brothers who lived in Brooklyn. These we sent back to the United States. But, what Americans had been killed? This question we had no means of solving. We had brought with us long lists of Americans known to be in Sicily, whose relatives were inquiring anxiously about their fate. Something must be attempted in order to put an end to the agonized suspense of so many families. Most of the persons whom we wished to find were doubtless safe at one of the Sicilian resorts. As for telegrams, none had yet arrived from any source, and letters were not delivered until the eleventh day; there were no postal clerks, we were informed, to distribute them. It was plain that the only way to get information was to go and get it. Two of us were accordingly detailed to take the train to Taormina.

After obtaining with some difficulty the military pass allowing us to return, we walked to the railroad station and boarded a train. No one knew whether it would start that day or the next. As a matter of fact it began to move less than two hours after our arrival, and with surprising speed considering its portentous length and its over-crowded condition. In spite of long stops at every station, to take out wounded or to let them aboard, the journey of thirty miles was completed in two hours and a quarter. We were surprised to find that after eight or ten miles all signs of destruction ceased. The first villages were in ruins, like Messina; and in the fields soldiers were digging great rows of trenches, in which they deposited lime: obviously the sea was no longer to receive all the dead. But soon we came upon towns with only a few fallen houses; before long a mutilated roof was a curiosity; and fifteen miles from Messina the country presented a completely normal appearance. We did not realize then that those villages between Messina and Taormina were in greater distress than any district, probably, in the whole of Sicily or Calabria. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of refugees from the city fled on foot to these little towns, imploring charity. The inhabitants received them with true hospitality and gave them of their best. But as the days and weeks passed the supply of food ran short. Nothing arrived by rail; the trains were filled with cargoes for Messina or else for Taormina or Catania; charity passed the little places by. It was a month after the earthquake that two American gentlemen from Taormina, Messrs. Wood and Bowdoin, discovered and reported the incredible distress of this starving rural population. And now another American, Mr. Billings, of Boston, is devoting himself to the relief of this district and is spending there the principal part of the generous offerings of Massachusetts.

Taormina was full of rumors. For a week the only news had been supplied by wounded refugees, distraught with fear and misery; in their description the earthquake had become almost a supernatural event. Strange lights had blazed in the sky; a comet had struck the earth and raised the waters of the deep. Luckily the wires to Catania and Syracuse,and from Catania to Palermo, were open. By telegraphing to all of these cities and by searching the hotel registers of Taormina, we were able to find nearly all the names on our lists. There were many Americans still in Taormina and many English. All of them were working together, distributing relief and caring for the sick. A hundred and fifty refugees were in the hospital of Taormina and three hundred and eighty in the little fishing village of Giardini at the foot of the cliff. Our countrymen were working night and day to help them, giving them food and clothing; and instead of complaining of the heavy burden of so many patients, they begged us to send more. One or two of them met every train from Messina, to distribute bread to the hungry passengers. The ladies devoted themselves chiefly to the hospitals, where they worked with unremitting energy.

Our brief glance at the efficient relief of Taormina made the conditions at Messina, upon our return, seem even more desperate than before. Here the problem was vastly complicated by the dispersion of the population and the lack of any registers of inhabitants. The scarcity of houses had driven the population to take refuge, so far as possible, in the hill villages surrounding the town. Here most of the families were installed, not only the able-bodied, but the sick and wounded as well. One of each family would spend the days in Messina, trying to procure enough food to keep his relatives alive. The complete lack of transport animals and the absorption of the soldiers in the work of rescue, made relief expeditions to the villages impossible. For food distributions in Messina the rule had been adopted; one man, one loaf. The absence of registers made it possible for a strong man to push repeatedly to the head of the line, and to get bread at all the distributing places in succession. The result was a more or less disorderly rush for bread at all the distributing points, and the exclusion of all but the strongest, while many worthy families suffered from hunger in the midst of comparative plenty.

On the evening of our first arrival at Messina, I had a chance to talk to Senator Duranti, the chief of a hospital expedition sent by the order of the Cross of Malta. I asked him what articles of food, clothing and medical supplies were most needed, and how the American money accumulating in Rome could be spent with most profit to Messina. He told me that medical stores of all kinds were sadly wanted, and that there was still a lack of food, bread, macaroni, olive oil, butter, and especially milk—for the women and children—and also underclothes and shirts. The milk should be sterilized, not condensed, because the ignorant peasant women could not be induced to give their children an unaccustomed food, especially if it had to be prepared or mixed. Acting upon Senator Duranti’s advice, we telegraphed that night to the Ambassador in Rome for the enumerated supplies. The U. S. despatch boatScorpion, which had just arrived from Constantinople, was starting for Naples to coal. Her commander, Captain Logan, kindly took our dispatches to the Ambassador, and brought back the supplies, which we received on the 6th. At the same time we learned that an American relief ship was being stocked in Rome, and would soon arrive with huge stores of food and clothing, and that the U. S. S.Culgoawas due on the 8th from Port Said with immense supplies of all kinds.

The arrival of our first stores—which luckily far exceeded our requests—brought us face to face with the problem of direct distribution. Messina was already more orderly. On the 6th or 7th the Marina was first lighted by electricity—a fortunate occurrence, since most of the foreign warships on whose search lights we had been dependent, had now departed. To these ships Messina and Italy had good reason to be grateful.

I do not know what words could adequately convey the extent of service rendered by all the fleets, but especially the British and Russian. As transports, store ships, refugees’ hospitals, telegraph stations they had been invaluable: but it was as rescuers of the living that they were pre-eminent. The Russian sailor was a revelation to those who did not know the quiet common sense, the tactful sympathy and the unassuming heroism of the moujik. The Russians were the only people who always had everything on the spot. The saying got about that they had ordered the earthquake and fitted out a fleet beforehand for the purpose of relief. As to the British bluejackets, they had not a reputation to make. They did exactly what was expected of them; and in the expected way; that is with energy and courage, with easy practical mastery of every kind of work, and with complete unconsciousness of anything unusual or particularly meritorious in their performance. And the English nation and press, instinctively realizing that silence may be a higher tribute than praise, has accepted the fleet’s work at its own valuation; as a task performed in the ordinary way of duty, and performed well, as became British sailors.

About the same time or a little later, the water supply was connected with a portion of the town. Lack of water had been one of our chief discomforts. It could be procured at one place only, two miles from the consulate; with great difficulty we had obtained a pailful each day for our party. The streets had become filthy beyond description: now it was possible to flood them. A train to Palermo crawled out of Messina from time to time. The dead were being removed from the streets, and many of them were buried instead of being taken out to sea. On the fires in front of the tarpaulin houses stood pots of macaroni cooking. The hospital ships which departed for Naples, Genoa or Catania were no longer crowded to over-flowing. The people actually living in Messina were comparatively comfortable. But every improvement in organization brought out more clearly the needs which confusion had obscured. Inside the city and out, no one had any clothes except what he had been able to snatch from his house on the morning of the 28th; and not two miles from the Municipio, in all directions, ran the hunger line—beyond which lay the region of actual famine.

It must be remembered that Messina was in a state of siege. That means that it was controlled in every department by a single central military authority. The state of siege was necessary in order to maintain order and health; but it entailed inevitable disadvantages in connection with relief work. Effective relief should be decentralized; it should operate through innumerable agents invested with responsibility and discretionary power, who seek out the individual and have the means to assist him. Government by martial law means that nothing can be done or given except by permission of the military chief, and an orderfor stores cannot be obtained in a minute. This was why the hospitals, the Red Cross stations and relief agencies of all kinds were so frequently short of supplies. Requisitions of particular articles which had run out, such as brandy or antiseptics or milk, required too great an expense of time; the workers were everywhere fewer than the needs: they could not be spared. From our own experience in sending telegrams or procuring permits we learned to appreciate the inevitable disabilities of a system of complete centralization in dealing with a situation of such chaotic complexity.

What part we could take as independent distributors was not evident. Under the circumstances we decided to divide our supplies into three parts. The first, consisting of medical stores, milk, butter, oil, chocolate and underclothes, was given to the central medical officials, for use in the hospitals. The second, of a similar nature, we took to Reggio and San Giovanni, for distribution to the hospitals there. The medical authorities of each place selected from our lists the articles of which they were in need. The remainder of the stores we took to the consulate and distributed ourselves.

The Quay Where Corpses Were Laid Out, Awaiting Burial at Sea.

In picking out individuals to assist, we paid special attention to residents of our own district, with whom we were beginning to become acquainted, to persons known to Mr. Heynes, and to such inhabitants of Messina as had some connection with America. We were constantly asked by Messinesi to send telegrams to their relatives in the United States, and if possible to help them rejoin those relatives. But as our immigration laws forbid the importation of the destitute, we had to tell the applicants that we could send their telegrams, but that we could not provide passage to America.

The consulate soon became a busy place. Two soldiers stood at the door to keep the line of applicants in order; inside, one of us investigated the applicants, and registered the facts of each case in a book,another took the written orders and brought back the stores, which were handed out by a third. It is perhaps superfluous to add that in cases of actual hunger no investigation was attempted. The help of Mr. and Mrs. Heynes was invaluable throughout. It enabled us to send stores to families at a distance, who had not heard of our consulate or were unable to come. Other pitiable cases were brought to our attention by the American and English newspaper correspondents, and by Mr. Frank A. Perret, the seismic expert well known for his heroism at the time of the eruption of Vesuvius in 1906.

Meanwhile the United States WarshipsYanktonandCulgoa, the latter loaded with stores, had joined theScorpionin the harbor. The sailors were detailed to help us clean the house and garden and put up a number of tents for a hospital. Colonel Radcliffe, the British Military Attachè, to whose clear-headed determination is due the chief credit for the admirable organization of British relief work, aided us in countless ways. He was occupied at that time in searching for the body of Mrs. Ogston, wife, of the British Consul. When the remains were found, it was a party of American sailers from theConnecticutthat formed the funeral escort.

Then, on the evening of the 8th, arrived the American Red Cross Relief ShipBayern, with the American Ambassador aboard and the American Naval Attachè, Captain Belknap, in command. I am still amazed at the intuitive grasp of the situation displayed by the organizers of the expedition. From inception to completion, in every detail of planning and execution, the cruise of theBayernwas emphatically a success.

Messina was not the place, however, where theBayernwas needed. A day ashore convinced the Ambassador and the committee that large distributions of food and clothing were not advisable at the present time. Supplies and a sum of money were given to the Archbishop of Messina, for his hospital; the stock at the consulate was replenished; a trip was made to the Calabrian coast, where the military authorities were given what stores they requested; then, early on the morning of the 11th, theBayernsailed for Catania.

We went ashore, wondering whether we were needed. An hour later we wondered whether it was worth our while to think of going anywhere else. The situation at that time was simply appalling: it is appalling today, five weeks after our visit. Catania and every house in Catania had been swamped with refugees. Three thousand of them lay in the five hospitals; two thousand in the three main refuges—converted barracks or convents; and twenty thousand were scattered over the city. One lady whom we met had sixty in her own house; another, thirty: another, seventeen. The Prefect was spending 20,000 lire daily, a sum barely sufficient to supply bread rations and to keep the hospitals running, but quite insufficient to provide sheets or clothing for the patients. Even the hospitals were short of mattresses; in the refuges the inmates slept on heaps of straw. The little towns in the country districts were as full of refugees as Catania and in still greater distress; at Catania there was at least bread. Red Cross branches, municipal committees ofmen and women, were working valiantly, but they were struggling with absolute penury—a complete lack of funds. The money received by the Prefect from the Government appeared to be the only cash from the outside which had yet arrived at Catania. It was still only a fortnight since the earthquake. Apparently no one in Italy had yet realized that money was needed immediately in places like Catania. Food and clothing were sent, for instance, but at Catania the food and clothing shops were well stocked. TheBayernafter giving away nearly its whole supply of clothes renewed the supply by purchases at Catania for distribution at Reggio. Obviously it would have been more economical to have given the Catanians money to buy the clothes of which they were in want than to send the clothes from Italy. The work of making up the clothes could have been given to the refugees themselves, had there been money to pay them. It is true that at Catania, as elsewhere, we found a general conviction that nothing would make the refugees work. The women, it was said, had their children to look after; the men could think of nothing but returning to Messina to recover their property and the remains of their relatives. All were plunged in a state of morbid apathy which made work out of the question. This view, however plausible under the circumstances, has been completely disproved; wherever the refugees have been given work to dounder proper supervision, they have worked. But at Catania the point was not worth arguing. There was no money to buy stuffs and sewing machines, or to pay wages; no rooms which could be used as workshops. A movement might have been organized to employ fifty or a hundred women, perhaps; but with 25,000 refugees to keep from starvation and crime the city could not spare any of its workers to organize an employment agency which, at the best, would benefit only a few persons. Nothing but large sums of ready money could have helped the situation; and ready money was not yet forthcoming. TheBayernhad brought a certain amount of money to distribute; and I had funds of the American Red Cross. With what we had we were able to give sums of cash to the committees, the hospitals, the refuges and other charities.

The hospitals of Catania alone took almost all the clothes, blankets and medical stores we had to give. Yet the hospitals were in an enviable situation compared to the refuges. Here the inmates were in a worse plight than when they had escaped, half-naked from the ruins of Messina. A blanket, a heap of straw, and a daily bread ration, was about all the average inmate had received since his arrival. Few of them had changed their clothes or brushed their hair once: all were living in a state of filth, which extended to their persons and their habitations and which was a menace to the health of the town. Let no one think that their plight was the result of neglect. The Catanians showed no neglect or inefficiency. They worked hard and they worked with intelligence, but they had no money.

A curious and by no means reassuring feature of the refuges was the willingness of their inmates to stay where they were, or rather their unwillingness to move. I noticed the same fact at Palermo, where the condition of the refugees was similar, though perhaps less distressing. The inertia induced originally by the complex action of physical and moral shocks on an oriental fatalistic temperament increased rapidly, alarmingly, under the influence of a life without interest, occupation, pleasure or duty. Dependent squalor soon became pleasant, and any return to independence uninviting. The hope of getting a cigar from some visitor was enough to fill the day satisfactorily. Dirt, we know, soon became endurable; as a philosopher once said, “Every man is clean enough for himself.” What had happened already at the time of our visit was that the inmates of the refuges had begun to regard their present life as permanent, and had abandoned even the desire to change it; they had been turned into paupers. Three-quarters of them spent the days in aimless loafing and chatter; the other quarter lay gloomily on the straw, thinking of the dead. Unless these people could be awakened, unless someone should compel them soon to work and to be clean, there were signs that they would become a permanent burden; and, what is more, a permanent menace to the population. Criminals are easily made in Sicily and when they are made they have no difficulty in finding occupation.

Italian Soldiers Disinterring a Corpse in the Ruins of the Old Consulate.Bearing Corpses Down the Corso Principe Amedeo.

Italian Soldiers Disinterring a Corpse in the Ruins of the Old Consulate.

Bearing Corpses Down the Corso Principe Amedeo.

The problem of the refuges, then, was less to make them more comfortable than to abolish them as soon as possible and in the meantime to compel cleanliness and induce work among the inmates. But there was a scarcely less difficult and more elusive problem connected with the thousands of refugees scattered about the town in private houses, living in the garrets and stables. Many of them were skilled laborers of various kinds; not a few belonged to families of merchants or professional men and to the well-to-do classes. Their destitution was as complete, of course, as that of the rest, and the relief awarded to them was the same—a daily loaf of bread. Some of them were rich, if they could only find their evidences of wealth. To enable them to do this, and to support them meanwhile, the Catania business men had formed an association to which we were glad to be able to make a small contribution.

The general impression created by our visit to Catania was that of a problem too vast, too complicated, too closely connected with the habits and temperament of the people for any outsider to solve. To “rehabilitate” these thousands of peasants, artisans, professional men, merchants, landed proprietors, would require a carefully matured plan, which must proceed from the central authorities. But meanwhile, until the plan should be matured, there was ample scope for beneficent foreign intervention, and the most useful way to intervene was also the simplest—by direct money gifts, not indeed to individual refugees, but to the local relief bodies already organized by Italians. It was not necessary or even advisable to make large donations to the central authorities of each place. The system was already rather too much centralized than too little, as the authorities were the first to recognize. Far from being jealous of direct donations to the subordinate or independent institutions, they welcomed anyone who would investigate the various needs, and give help when help was most wanted. It appeared to us that the best way to dispose of American money was to entrust it to an agent on the spot, who should travel up and down the coasts of Sicily and encourage every well-directed movement by immediate money gifts. In time such movements would no doubt receive help from Rome; but in the meantime ready cash from unofficial sources might make the difference between success and failure.

TheBayernspent three days at Catania. During that time I made a trip of investigation to Syracuse. Here the refugees numbered only 3,000—one-eighth of the number at Catania; but 900 of these were hospital patients. Syracuse, too, has only one-seventh of Catania’s population.Its hospital accommodations at the time of the earthquake were for one hundred patients. If Syracuse had succeeded better than any other place in mastering the difficulties of the situation it was not because the difficulties were insignificant. Syracuse was fortunate in a Prefect and a Mayor of resource and capacity; in an unusually efficient body of volunteer workers, with one woman of great ability at their head; and in the fact that the importance of the work, as a moral and mental tonic for the refugees, was realized from the very beginning. Syracuse was the first place where refugees were set to work. The credit for this is due to an American, Miss Katherine Bennett Davis, head of the New York State Reformatory for Women.

When Miss Davis first thought of employing refugee women to make clothes for the hospitals, relief work at Syracuse was just emerging from a state of chaos. Four hospitals had been equipped after a fashion for the reception of patients. The Municipal hospital was already in good running order, through the efforts of Signor Broggi-Reale, head of the local Red Cross; the Archbishop’s palace was being rapidly transformed into a second hospital by a number of ladies; at the big barracks conditions were more primitive until the arrival of a splendidly equipped expedition of the German Red Cross. Most of the hospitals were short of blankets; all needed sheets, and all were entirely unsupplied with clothes for the patients. Of the two thousand able-bodied refugees, eight hundred were maintained aboard the steamshipNord Amerika; the rest were scattered about the town. A woman’s branch of the Red Cross was being organized by the Marchesa di Rudini, whose activity covered every branch of the work of relief and extended beyond the confines of Syracuse, to all the towns of the province. Her position as wife of one of the largest landowners of the province and daughter-in-law of Italy’s lamented premier; her independence of any particular organization; her skill and tact in uniting individuals and parties made her the most influential person in Syracuse. To her is due more than to anyone else the excellent organization of the Syracuse relief work.

Miss Davis was in Sicily in order to rest. The funds at her disposal amounted to six hundred lire only. But she saw an opportunity to help in the moral regeneration of the refugees and at the same time to supply one of the most pressing needs of the city. She went to the mayor and offered to employ refugee women in making clothes for the hospitals. Like everyone else, the Mayor had been told that the refugees would not work; but unlike everyone else, he decided to make the experiment. He gave Miss Davis two of his own rooms in the Municipio, supplied her with sewing machines, and promised to furnish all the necessary materials. She opened her shop on January 8th and soon had fifty women at work.

Miss Davis was not alone in her labors. Besides the support of the officials and of Madame di Rudini, she had the direct assistance, from the first, of Mrs. Musson, wife of the British clergyman, and later of Mrs. Sisco, of Florida. When gifts of money from the American Red Cross and from the Committee of theBayernenabled Miss Davis to found a second workshop at Santa Lucia, the quarter of Syracuse situated on the mainland, Mrs. Musson became its manager. To supplement her own scanty knowledge of Italian, Miss Davis employed as interpreter and paymaster an English resident of Messina, Miss Smith, who had escaped from the earthquake without any of her belongings beyond what she could carry. The Syracusan ladies took an active interest in theworkshops; two of them, the Baronesses del Bosco, whose principal work was in the hospitals, found time nevertheless to give much of their attention to Miss Davis’ work, and assisted her particularly in the cutting-out department.

The workshops were a success from the beginning. Under Miss Davis’ unceasing supervision the women showed no tendency to idleness. A piece wage which would have put the unskillful and the beginners at a disadvantage was not found necessary; the women were paid by the day, one lira and a lunch of bread, cheese and wine. The question naturally suggested itself, could not the men also be induced to work? And could not their work be made to contribute, like that of the women, to supply their own wants?

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