Castellinaria, and Other Sicilian Diversions Part 25

He said this so sternly that I made up my mind he could know nothing about the theatre--he must be a foreigner who had yet to learn that a Sicilian child's confidence is not destroyed by a mere threat to stick a knife into him, the idea that anyone is going to hurt him is too preposterous to be taken seriously. Or perhaps he had invested all his imagination in superst.i.tious securities. Or perhaps I had acted better than I knew and had seriously alarmed him. But I had not imitated Giovanni's realism so closely as to deceive Toto. I looked at him. He was beaming all over his face as he shook his head and said:

"I am not afraid."

The big waiter scowled and went away, abandoning the reckless child to his fate. Toto put his hand on my arm to attract my attention and emphasise what he was going to say:

"When you are at home, please will you send me a postcard with a picture of London?"

"Certainly, my boy; I'll send you as many as you like."

This is all the conversation I had with Toto before I left Messina, which I did that day, but we have corresponded. On returning to London I sent him a card with a view of Oxford Circus full of traffic and, not knowing his full name, addressed it:

A Don Toto, Piccolo Cameriere all' Albergo Trinacria, Messina.

He replied at once, thanking me profusely for the beautiful view of what he called I Quattro Canti di Londra and promising to send me some p.r.i.c.kly pears as soon as they were at their best, having heard that they do not mature in London. Presently I sent him another post-card secretly hoping he would show them both to the stupid big waiter. He replied at once and, among other things, asked if I should like him to come to London.

I never like them to come to London unless they are sure of some settled employment, and even then I would rather see them in their native surroundings; so I replied:

No, Toto. Here we already have too many Italians, Austrians, Swiss and Germans. They come because they believe that the streets of London are paved with gold, but too many of them find our streets guttered by the tears of foreign waiters who have failed to find work. You had much better stay where you are like a good boy, and I will come to Messina and see you next autumn.

Then a basket arrived containing the p.r.i.c.kly pears in a state of pulp, exuding juice from every pore because he had not attempted to pack them, and accompanied by a card wis.h.i.+ng me a Merry Christmas.

Early in the morning of the 28th December, 1908, Messina was destroyed by an earthquake. The newspapers particularly mentioned that the Albergo Trinacria had fallen, killing everyone who was sleeping there that night.

I chanced a card to Toto asking whether he had escaped. On the 6th January I received a letter from him; he had evidently not received my card, which was returned to me about eight months later. This is a translation of Toto's letter:

CATANIA, 1 _Jan._, 1909.

Egregious Signor Enrico,

You must have already heard of the destruction of Messina. By a miracle I am saved, also my family, except that I do not yet know the fate of two of my sisters, my father, three nephews and one brother-in-law. My father was at Reggio Calabria, which was also destroyed. The Albergo Trinacria was not merely shaken down, it was also burnt. It was my good fortune not to be on guard that night in the hotel, otherwise I too should have died. The few who have escaped have been brought to Catania naked, without a soldo. We are sleeping in the Municipio, on the floor, with a rug, a piece of bread and cheese and a gla.s.s of wine which the Municipio gives us. They have made me a present of a s.h.i.+rt because, as the earthquake was at five in the morning, everyone was asleep and they escaped just as they were. You may imagine in what a condition I find myself, in what misery, it is such that you will excuse my posting this letter without a stamp, but I have not a centesimo to send you the news of the disaster of Messina. On the post-card which you sent me you speak of coming in the autumn, but there will be no more coming to Messina.

Enough! I could tell you in detail of many misfortunes that have overtaken me, but I have not the courage to write more.

I send you my respects. You will pardon me for being obliged to post this without a stamp.

TOTO.

He gave me an address in Catania to which I wrote, and he replied 24th January from Naples, where he and his family had been taken.

Then he left off writing and I thought I had heard the last of him. In the spring of 1910 I went to Sicily again, and within an hour of arriving at my hotel in Catania one of the waiters came up to me and said in a friendly way:

"Good day, sir."

"Good day," I replied, "but I do not recognise you."

He said, "Toto. Messina."

"It is not possible! You were only thirteen at Messina, and how old are you now?"

"Eighteen."

"How have you managed to become five years older in eighteen months? Is it an effect of the earthquake?"

"I was sixteen at Messina."

"Then why did that stupid big waiter say you were only thirteen?"

"Ah! well, he is dead now."

I thought of the fate of Ananias and said: "Poor fellow! Do you remember how angry he was when I wanted to give him my knife and said those words from _Omerta_?"

"Yes, but he was not really angry with you, he was only pretending."

"No, Toto! Not really? Do you mean he was acting?"

"Yes. I thought you understood. He was always like that, full of fun, not stupid at all. He was a good man and very kind to me." And poor Toto's eyes filled with tears.

So it was someone else who had been stupid, and I left off thinking of Ananias and began to think of those eighteen upon whom the Tower of Siloam fell.

Toto told me that he was sleeping at home when the earthquake woke him up, and that he and the others in his house ran out naked as they were into the street and saw the house fall; they were only just in time. His father, who was in Reggio, was saved, but one of his sisters was killed with her husband and three children.

This is all the conversation I had with Toto in Catania; next day on my inquiring for him they told me he had caught cold and had not come to the Albergo. I left without seeing him again and next time I was in Catania they told me he had gone away and they did not know his address.

Possibly he has disappeared for ever, but it is more probable that, like other meteoric bodies, he will cross my path again some day.

TURIDDU BALISTRIERI

Among the members of Giovanni's company whose acquaintance I made during my week in Messina were two ladies who acted under their maiden names, viz. Marinella Bragaglia and Carolina Balistrieri; the first is married to Vittorio Marazzi and the second to Corrado Bragaglia, Corrado being the brother of Marinella. I also often saw in the theatre Turiddu (Salvatore) Balistrieri, brother of Carolina and therefore brother-in-law to Corrado and brother-in-law by marriage (or whatever the correct expression may be and, if there is no correct expression, then compare di parentela) to Vittorio and Marinella Marazzi. He was just over eleven, not a member of the company but, being at school in Messina, his sister had taken him to stay with her for the week, and we became great friends.

I was thinking of him when writing about Micio buying chocolate and story-books at Castellinaria in Chapter XVIII of _Diversions in Sicily_.

When Giovanni and the company departed from Messina to continue their tour, Turiddu and his younger brother, Gennaro, remained in Messina with their professor and, as their mother, Signora Balistrieri, was touring with another company in South America, they had no home to go to for Christmas and remained with the professor for the holidays.

On the 27th December, Giovanni and his company, after being in Egypt and in Russia, arrived at Udine, north of Venice. They heard nothing of the earthquake until the evening of the 29th December, about forty hours after the event, when the news reached them in the theatre during the performance of _La Figlia di Jorio_. The next day Giovanni and six of the company started for Messina; they wanted to ascertain for themselves the extent of the disaster and whether the earthquake had affected Catania, where most of their relations and friends were. Among the six were Corrado Bragaglia and Vittorio Marazzi, whose particular object was to find out what had happened to Turiddu and Gennaro. When the company came to London in the spring of 1910 Corrado gave me an account of their adventures. They arrived in Naples where they were delayed a day, which they spent in meeting fugitives, but they heard no news of the boys.

They reached Messina on the 1st January and, taking a basket of provisions and medicines, started for the professor's house, treading on dead bodies as they walked through the falling rain and fearing lest another shock might come or that at any moment some already shattered house might fall on them. The professor's apartments were on the first and second floors of one side of a courtyard that stood between a street and a torrent; the front doors of the different apartments opened into the court as in a college building; the professor's side of the court was nearest the torrent and did not fall, but the other three sides of the court fell and the houses on the opposite side of the street fell, so that the debris made it difficult to approach the street door of the court and still more difficult afterwards to approach the doors of the different sets of apartments.

They found the landlord of the house, and he showed them that the professor's part of the house had not fallen and told them that the professor and his family had escaped and, he believed, had been taken to Naples or Catania, or--he did not know where. This was satisfactory, at least they no longer thought the children were buried in the ruins, but it did not give much information as to their whereabouts. They went to the station and got a permission to go to Catania. The train was crowded with fugitives, some wounded, some unhurt, and during the journey a pa.s.senger gave birth to a baby.

In Catania they asked of Madama Ciccia (i.e. Signora Gra.s.so, Giovanni's mother), who would certainly have heard if the children had been seen in the city, but she knew nothing. They sought out the boys' grandmother, the mother of Signora Balistrieri, but she was not at home, she had deserted her house for fear of another earthquake and had been sleeping in the piazza. They inquired at the hospital and at the inst.i.tutions where fugitives had been taken. They advertised. They actually found a professor from Messina with pupils, but it was not the one they wanted.

They went to Siracusa, to Malta, to Palermo, to Trapani; they got no information and returned to Catania. Then they were struck with remorse for not having entered the professor's house in Messina--they had only spoken to the landlord--the boys might be buried there after all, alive or dead. They returned to Messina and entered the house; it was all in confusion; they looked through it, but found no trace of the children.

All this took them seven days, during which they scarcely ate and scarcely slept. They knew that if the boys had really been taken to Naples they were probably safe, and now they went there considering that they had done their best with Sicily. In Naples they inquired at the official places, at the hospitals and at the offices of the newspapers where they could see the lists of names before they were published. They found nothing and their thoughts went back to Messina; they wondered whether the children might perhaps have been crushed by a falling house in the streets, and whether they ought to return. In the evening they went to a caffe to read the lists, and by chance took up a Roman paper.

They could hardly believe their eyes when they read the names of Turiddu and Gennaro among those who had been taken to the Inst.i.tuto Vittoria Colonna in Naples. They went there at once, but it was already late at night and the place was shut. Unable to think of eating or sleeping they walked about the streets till six in the morning, when they returned and were admitted. They stated their business, inquired for the children, produced photographs and, after a little delay, Turiddu and Gennaro came running to them naked. It took some days of red tape, including a legal act whereby Corrado const.i.tuted himself their second father, before they were allowed to remove the boys. At last on the 11th January they took possession of them and dressed them in the street with clothes they had bought. Corrado had telegraphed to his wife and to the other relations, and they left Naples and rejoined the company at Udine, where they arrived on the 14th. One of the actors when he saw the children fainted and Corrado was ill for days with a fever.

Turiddu wrote to me from Naples to tell me he was saved, and by August, 1909, when I went to Sicily again, he had left Giovanni and the company and returned to Naples, where I found him and Gennaro with the professor and his family, living in two rooms of an establishment where emigrants are put to wait for their s.h.i.+ps to take them to America. They told me their experiences. In Messina the family had consisted of the professor, his wife, his niece (a studentessa), Turiddu and Gennaro with two of their school-fellows, one named Peppino, son of a well-to-do dealer in iron bedsteads, and another named Luigi, son of a well-to-do orange-merchant, who had gone to visit his uncle for Christmas. There was also a servant girl who had gone that night to stay with her people.

The parents of Peppino and Luigi were both killed in their houses; fortunately for Peppino he had not gone home or he would probably have been killed. Luigi also escaped because the house of his uncle did not fall or, if it fell, it did not kill him. The servant, who had gone home, was killed.

They puzzled me by their attempts to explain why the professor's side of the courtyard did not fall. It seems it was partly because, being near the torrent, it had been built more strongly than the other three sides; that was not all, there was also something about a j.a.panese gentleman who had studied earthquakes at home and who had hurried to Messina, visited the spot and declared that the direction of the shock was from (say) east to west, had it been from west to east the side near the torrent would certainly have fallen. It may have been north to south--my thoughts had wandered again to the Tower of Siloam. Turiddu, however, had a reason for not being killed in the earthquake; he is naturally lucky because he was born with a caul; he keeps most of it at home and speaks of it as his cammisedda, which is Sicilian for camicetta, his little s.h.i.+rt. He carries a small piece of it in his watch-case, and offered to give it to me as a ricordo, but I thought he had better keep it all; it cannot be lucky to give away any of one's luck.

While Turiddu was with Giovanni and the company touring in North Italy, he wrote, by desire of his professor, a sort of holiday task about the earthquake. He gave it to me afterwards, when I saw him in Naples, and I have translated it. The pa.s.sages in square brackets are additions I have made from information the family gave me in Naples.