DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.809#0343
[i6 PERSONAL EXPERIENCES OF EARTHQUAKE OF 1926
Personal
experi-
Like
storm at
sea.
Roaring
sound
from
below.
Dust
cloud
eclipsing
Moon.
when on June 26 of that year, at 9.45 in the evening of a calm, warm day, the
shocks began.1
They caught me reading on my bed in a basement room of the head-
quarters house—the Villa Ariadne—and, trusting to the exceptional strength
of the fabric, I decided to see the earthquake through from within. Per-
haps I had hardly realized the full awesomeness of the experience, though
my confidence in the strength of the building proved justified, since it did
not suffer more than slight cracks. But it creaked and groaned, heaved, and
rocked from side to side, as if the whole must collapse. Small objects were
thrown about, and a pail, full of water, was nearly splashed empty. The
movement, which recalled to me a ship in a storm—as it had to the Venetian
Duke in 1508—though it was of only a minute and a quarter's duration,
already began to produce on me the same effect of sickness as a rough sea. A
dull sound rose from the ground like the muffled roar of an angry bull : our
single bell rang, while, through the open window, came the more distant
jangling of the chimes of Candia Cathedral, the belfreys as well as the dome
and cupolas of which were badly damaged. As the quickly repeated shocks
produced their cumulative effects, the crashing of the roofs of two small
houses outside the garden gate made itself audible, mingled with women's
shrieks and the cries of some small children, who, however, were happily
rescued. Some guests, who were upstairs or on the roof, had made their
way out past the lower terrace—on which a round stone table with a thick
Roman pedestal was executing a pas seul—and thence to the open, between
trees so violently swayed that it looked as if they must fall. Meanwhile,
a dark mist of dust, lifted upwards by a sudden draught of air, rose sky-
high, so as almost entirely to eclipse the full moon, house lights reflected
on this cloud bank giving the appearance of a conflagration wrapped
round with smoke.
Not only did the head-quarters house resist the shocks well, but, thanks
largely to the ferro-concrete of the floors, very little damage was done to the
works of reconstitution in the upper stories of the Palace. The upper part of a
masonry pillar of recent construction which was moved bodily several centi-
metres due South supplied, indeed, a good index of the prevalent direction from
which the waves of disturbance came. In neighbouring villages, however—
especially those on declivities—the destruction was great. The photograph
1 An account of my experiences was pub-
lished in The Times of Sept. 20, 1926. On
June 28 I had already sent them a short
report of the effects of the earthquake at
Candia and in the surrounding country, in-
cluding an estimate of the damage wrought
in the Museum.
Personal
experi-
Like
storm at
sea.
Roaring
sound
from
below.
Dust
cloud
eclipsing
Moon.
when on June 26 of that year, at 9.45 in the evening of a calm, warm day, the
shocks began.1
They caught me reading on my bed in a basement room of the head-
quarters house—the Villa Ariadne—and, trusting to the exceptional strength
of the fabric, I decided to see the earthquake through from within. Per-
haps I had hardly realized the full awesomeness of the experience, though
my confidence in the strength of the building proved justified, since it did
not suffer more than slight cracks. But it creaked and groaned, heaved, and
rocked from side to side, as if the whole must collapse. Small objects were
thrown about, and a pail, full of water, was nearly splashed empty. The
movement, which recalled to me a ship in a storm—as it had to the Venetian
Duke in 1508—though it was of only a minute and a quarter's duration,
already began to produce on me the same effect of sickness as a rough sea. A
dull sound rose from the ground like the muffled roar of an angry bull : our
single bell rang, while, through the open window, came the more distant
jangling of the chimes of Candia Cathedral, the belfreys as well as the dome
and cupolas of which were badly damaged. As the quickly repeated shocks
produced their cumulative effects, the crashing of the roofs of two small
houses outside the garden gate made itself audible, mingled with women's
shrieks and the cries of some small children, who, however, were happily
rescued. Some guests, who were upstairs or on the roof, had made their
way out past the lower terrace—on which a round stone table with a thick
Roman pedestal was executing a pas seul—and thence to the open, between
trees so violently swayed that it looked as if they must fall. Meanwhile,
a dark mist of dust, lifted upwards by a sudden draught of air, rose sky-
high, so as almost entirely to eclipse the full moon, house lights reflected
on this cloud bank giving the appearance of a conflagration wrapped
round with smoke.
Not only did the head-quarters house resist the shocks well, but, thanks
largely to the ferro-concrete of the floors, very little damage was done to the
works of reconstitution in the upper stories of the Palace. The upper part of a
masonry pillar of recent construction which was moved bodily several centi-
metres due South supplied, indeed, a good index of the prevalent direction from
which the waves of disturbance came. In neighbouring villages, however—
especially those on declivities—the destruction was great. The photograph
1 An account of my experiences was pub-
lished in The Times of Sept. 20, 1926. On
June 28 I had already sent them a short
report of the effects of the earthquake at
Candia and in the surrounding country, in-
cluding an estimate of the damage wrought
in the Museum.