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Monday April 9
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.
