There was altogether something about the arrangement and position of the chapel so unlike the beaten ways of everyday life that, united as it is with the memory of the beautiful short addresses of the father and the devotion of the people, it remains in our minds heightened by a tinge of romance. And now there was the fatal apprehension that all this was to be destroyed.
It was some little time before Mary and I could quite make out what this suddenly-developed though long smouldering hostility to Padre Cataldo and the Vernons could mean, the Casinelli had appeared so anxious to be civil to the latter, and had professed such delight at first that the chapel should be reopened. At length we learnt the facts of the case, which were as follows: The Vernons had been residing at Casinelli for about two years, and doing a great deal of good in their immediate neighborhood, when an Italian gentleman, a strong Liberal, and openly professing infidelity, applied for the set of apartments corresponding to those occupied by the Vernons. In this case it was the brother who appeared as the owner, and who, careless of all save his rent, let it at [pg 547] once to the Martorelli, as we will call the gentleman in question and the lady who accompanied him.
This, of course, was a grand opportunity for the sister to come forward in the family comedy, and enact her part. So with loud bewailings and great disturbance of the whole household, she took to her bed, and sent for all her acquaintances to come and bewail with her the wickedness of her brother, who had let the apartments to such people—not even respectable!—and so brought a slur on his father's house. Everybody was entreated to pray that the brother's hard heart might be touched and his conversion effected.
But, in the meanwhile, nothing was done by any member of the family to prevent the Martorelli from taking quiet possession, as tenants, of a property which belongs to all the Casinelli, and about the letting of which, therefore, every one had a voice. This case was so glaring a one, and was so likely to bring the Casinelli into disrepute, that it was found necessary to drill all the members of the family to act the part of outraged propriety. Therefore all the seven sisters refused acquaintance with the new-comers, while they redoubled their attentions to the Vernons, wearying them with reiterated invectives against the Martorelli, and ostentatiously going the whole round of the garden, rather than run the risk of meeting them in the avenue which leads to the principal entrance.
Six months elapsed, and during that time the brother was a constant guest at the Martorelli's, while more and more he evinced a marked absence of civility towards the Vernons, and especially towards Padre Cataldo. On one occasion, as the brother returned from dining with the Martorelli, he said something positively insulting to the Vernons, whom he met in the garden. This was overheard by some of vignaiuoli,[123] and was repeated to the seven sisters, who accordingly went in a body, the next day, to call on the Vernons, with redoubled regrets about their brother and about the vicinity of such objectionable people as the Martorelli, who, however, they rejoiced to add, would certainly vacate the apartment in another month. The Vernons, knowing no reason to doubt their statement, were naturally gratified to hear it, as the garden belonged equally to all the inhabitants of the house, except a very small portion assigned to each family, only sufficient for the cultivation of a few flowers. Time, however, wore on, and another six months had expired without making any difference as regarded the presence of the Martorelli.
Far from showing any signs of intended departure, Signor Martorelli was allowed to undertake several improvements in the house and garden at his own expense. About the same time some of the sisters called on Padre Cataldo, and, without making any allusion to the works that were being carried on by their tenant, they informed him, with every demonstration of zeal, that the lady who resided in the house with him had shown some signs of a better state of feeling than the gentleman; and that, in short, she was a very interesting person—one about whose welfare they could not but feel anxious. They added that, when she saw people going to and from the chapel, she was noticed to sigh deeply, [pg 548] and had actually expressed surprise that no one had ever invited her to enter the chapel; while, on the other hand, their brother was always taunting them with a want of real charity in having avoided any intercourse with this perhaps repentant sister. They had therefore, they asserted, after many misgivings, come in a body to consult his reverence as to what he would advise them to do. Personally, they could have no wish to know such people; but here, possibly, was a question of the salvation of a soul, and all selfish sentiments must be laid aside for that. Perhaps their knowing her might do good; did his reverence not think that, with such an end in view, they ought to sacrifice their natural aversion, and call on the interesting lady? Of course the only reply that a priest could make to such a question was that no consideration should stand in the way when any hope of doing good is in question. And then all the seven damsels, breaking forth in expressions of submission to his advice, and appearing to take it as if the initiative had come from him, with pious phrases and low courtesies, left his reverence's presence. From that day the greatest intimacy and constant intercourse sprang up between the two families. The seven sisters and the young lady were inseparable. Signor Martorelli's sentiments and principles were deeply bewailed; but if her husband, as he is called, and as we hope he is, showed so little religion, at least she was a promising subject; and whenever they saw the Vernons, it was always to relate the growing success of their happy manœuvre. Time, however, sped on his way, and no practical results followed. Signora Martorelli entered no church, while the man threw off the mask, and openly began to do the devil's work among the pious contadini[124] of the place. He would send for two or three of the young lads at the hour of Mass on Sundays and feast days, and promise them a trifling sum, if, instead of going to church, they would execute some commission for him. When they hesitated, he would laugh at their scruples, and ridicule their attachment to the Jesuit father, and their caring to have objects of devotion like a rosary or the picture of a saint. By degrees his discourses to them became impregnated with positive blasphemy; he grew bolder in his expressions of hatred against religion, and more virulent in his attacks on the ministers of the church. At length he had messages conveyed to the Vernons, to the effect that the bell for Mass (which was never rung before 8 o'clock) was an intolerable nuisance to him; and he threw out hints of revenge if it was not discontinued. Whenever it was rung, suddenly furious sounds proceeded from his part of the house. And really it would seem as if the wretched man were seized with the rage of the possessed, and that, when that bell sounded, the devil entered into him. The Vernons' servants became the objects of mysterious threats and of vile calumnies. A wretched peasant was bribed to frighten one of them at night; and a more daring sinner, but who afterwards repented with tears, was induced, by promises of money, to fire at Padre Cataldo one evening as he was entering the avenue where the man stood concealed.
At length the climax was reached which I have related at the [pg 549] beginning of this chapter, and the Mass bell was cut down in the night, and hung upon a fig-tree. I remained a long time with Ida and Elizabeth, discussing what would be the best course to pursue; and as I have got so far in the history of the Mass bell, I think I had better carry it on to the end, though it will lead me beyond many of the other incidents of our stay at Posilippo. It was decided that Ida should write very civilly but very firmly to the elder sister, remonstrating at the bell being removed. The sisters rose up in a body, and all together intoned a loud lamentation over the wickedness of the world. It was their desire the bell should be replaced, and that in all things the reverend father should do whatever he thought proper. It was impossible to say who had removed the bell; no one could so much as guess who could be at the bottom of so much wickedness; but as it was quite overwhelming, the eldest sister, true to her traditions and habits, retired to bed, informed her friends of the circumstance, and gathered them round her couch for two days of sympathy and condolence. The bell was, of course, replaced by the still trusting Vernons; but the atheistic Martorelli only escaped condign punishment at the hands of the indignant contadini through the remonstrances and commands of Padre Cataldo, who, in this instance, had unusual difficulty in getting his orders obeyed, and in preventing the insults that had been heaped upon him from being revenged by his loving but hot-headed Italian penitents.
The next Sunday morning Mary and I, who had far less faith in the possibility of any sincerity in the Casinelli than even the Vernons, listened anxiously for the first sound of the Mass bell. My watch was, I suppose, in advance of the right time; for it was five minutes past eight, and I had not heard a sound, when Mary came running in with the joyful exclamation that it was all right, and that the bell was pealing loud. The good Posilippians looked out of their cavernous houses, and peeped from their windows; and as we stood at our garden door, we could hear them calling to each other just as Mary had done to me—that the bad man had not dared again to cut down the bell in the night.
It was not long, however, before Martorelli, whose rage knew no bounds, began to express his threats against the Vernons, and especially against their chaplain, too loudly to escape notice. The father himself was well aware of these threats, because they never failed to be repeated by the people about the place, who were all devoted to him. Of course he avoided telling the Vernons, for three girls and one aged lady could do little in the matter, except feel very anxious for his safety. On the other hand, he was not the man to avenge, or even protect, himself. But as he was constantly out till late in the evening, preaching at different churches, giving retreats, and visiting the sick, several of the men who formed part of the congregation decided that he was never to be allowed to go down that treacherous winding path which leads from the Strada Nuova through the vineyards and garden to Casinelli, except accompanied by one of them. The terraces are admirably adapted for shooting down upon your enemy, as he passes just beneath you, while you lie concealed amongst the beans [pg 550] above. At length some of the wiser and more authoritative of the men, disgusted at the annoyances to which the females of the Vernon household were exposed, and at the threats against Padre Cataldo's life, had Martorelli summoned before the magistrates as a disturber of the peace. This strong measure kept him quiet for some time; and it was during this happy interval that Frank and Don Emidio Gandolfi returned from their long wanderings, Frank, of course, to take up his abode with us, and Don Emidio to return to his Neapolitan villa, his principal residence being in Rome.
The day of their return we were all sitting in the loggia together watching the evening light, which, falling on the rocks of Sorrento and on the island of Capri, seemed to turn them into pink topaz set in a sapphire sea. I was eagerly relating the history of the bell to our two gentlemen, and, forgetting that Don Emidio was an Italian, I launched out in strong expressions against the cunning and intrigue of the whole nation. In the midst of my harangue I suddenly looked up, and there was Don Emidio leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped, his deep, calm eyes fixed on my eager face, and a slight, sly smile curving his well-defined mouth. I stopped dead short, and blushed to the eyes. We were so used to seeing him with us, and to hearing him talk in his perfect English, that, in the heat of my discourse, I forgot I was abusing his countrymen. Frank laughed outright when, looking at Don Emidio, he saw the expression which had so suddenly arrested me, and Mary alone looked sorry for me.