Then a basket arrived containing the prickly pears in a state of pulp, exuding juice from every pore because he had not attempted to pack them, and accompanied by a card wishing 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 Totò 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 Totò’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 glass of wine which the Municipio gives us. They have made me a present of a shirt 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.
Totò.
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,” I replied, “but I do not recognise you.”
He said, “Totò. Messina.”
“It is not possible! You were only thirteen at Messina, and how old are you now?”