Can you
give me no great cure that he has effected, such as giving sight to the
blind, causing the lame to walk, the dumb to speak, the deaf to hear,
and the like?" "One blind man came to be cured," replied my hostess; "but he, so Peppe
said, had not sufficient faith, so of course no cure could be effected. It was the same with a cripple who had a withered arm, a man who had the
small-pox, as well as several others. He said he could do nothing with
them, as they were wanting in faith." "I thought as much," said I. "All those whom he could not induce to
believe were cured, he sent away as not having sufficient faith--the
wily rascal! Now, my good woman, I really _do_ wonder at your placing
faith in such trash. If you knew as much about Peppe's character as I
do, you would very soon cease to look upon him as a saint. Besides, what
are the diseases you tell me he has cured? Headaches, jumps,
nervousness, low spirits, want of appetite, etc.--trifles all of them. "He was supposed by all to have been miraculously raised from the dead,
and they therefore concluded that he must have been a holy man, for such
a miracle ever to have been wrought upon him, and being so esteemed,
they at once jumped at the conclusion that he was gifted with power to
work miracles. Accordingly, all the scum of the village turns out and
follows him, placing implicit faith in his power to cure them of their
half imaginary complaints. They receive his touch, pay their money, and
their imagination worked upon, they fancy themselves healed. This is the
secret of all his boasted success, for you say yourself that in all
those cases that were worth healing he signally failed." "Be that as it may, Signor," replied the woman, "you will hardly pretend
to account for the miracle wrought upon Peppe himself in that manner. How could a man be raised from the dead by imagination? I don't see
how." "You don't? Then I will tell you; listen." I here proceeded to retail the account of Peppe's feigned decease in
order to escape paying his debt of three pauls; the entrance of the
brigands into the church with the spoil, since proved to have been
robbed from six English travellers and others who were making their way
towards Rome on that very night; the dividing of the spoil upon the
altar, and the diamond ring that remained over, with which one of the
brigands dexterously succeeded in startling Peppe out of the sleep into
which he had fallen, by hitting him on the nose, and finally, the
confusion of the brigands at the sight of what they supposed to be a
resuscitated corpse. I also related how they had abandoned the treasure in their flight, and
how Peppe, taking advantage of his position, proceeded to gather
together the said treasure, intending to keep it all for himself. How
Antonio at this moment burst from his hiding place in the confessional,
whither he had resorted in order to satisfy himself whether his friend's
death were genuine or spurious. How both of them disputed the treasure,
how they agreed to divide it equally, and how the diamond ring became a
bone of contention. How they were surprised by the sacristan early the
next morning. The sacristan's avarice, revenge, and hypocrisy. I dilated
on the story, not omitting the minutest particular, and winding up with
the subsequent conversion of the brigands, and letting her know upon
what authority I had come to the knowledge of these facts. The discomfiture of my hostess at hearing her darling miracle explained
away by natural causes, and those, too, of so ridiculous a nature, was
truly pitiable. I believe, in her heart, she wished that I had never put
up at her inn, so that I might not have dispelled the sweet illusion. Not many days after my hostess had become convinced of the spuriousness
of her once cherished miracle, the brigand-catchers returned after their
fruitless search, but being put upon the right scent immediately on
their return, they set off at once to the convent, where they commanded
the monks, in the name of the law, to deliver up the prisoners. It was,
however, too late. The brigands in the meantime had written a full
confession of their crime to the Pope, with an account of the miracle
and of their sudden determination, in consequence, of leading holy lives
for the future, and had received from His Holiness pardon and
absolution, on condition that they should follow out their virtuous
intentions. The document, with the pontifical seal affixed to it, was placed into
the hands of these emissaries of the law, who had now nothing to do but
to retire. The brigands had been transformed into monks; so far no one
had anything to say but the six English travellers, the victims in the
late robbery, and who had lost no time on their arrival in Rome in
informing the government of their loss, and urging the immediate capture
of the brigands; having heard of the extraordinary turn the affair had
taken, now impatiently demanded their money back. Believers in the late miracle now grew scarcer and scarcer every day,
the eyes of the most obstinate being now open to conviction by
overwhelming evidence. Peppe had lost his prestige as a saint, and the
headaches, jumps, fits of melancholy, loss of appetite, and other small
evils of which his patients had thought themselves miraculously cured,
came back again as before to the indignant faithful, who, armed, in a
body laid siege to the house of the "soi-disant" saint, vowing to burn
his dwelling over his head, if he refused to give back to each the money
that under false pretences he had extorted. There is no knowing what an infuriated Italian mob may not be guilty of
perpetrating in the height of its fury; but let its rage be once drawn
aside by some novel excitement or emotion, its fury will evaporate,
expending its force through another channel. It might have gone hard
with Peppe, if a trifling incident had not served to avert the fury of
the mob when at its climax. This was the arrival of the diligence with
the six Englishmen, whose pecuniary losses we have before alluded to,
and who have arrived to claim their money from the arch-priest. Trifling as this incident was, it proved sufficient to induce the
inhabitants of this sequestered village to abandon their purpose, and
their curiosity now being raised to its height, they relinquished their
victim for a time, in order to have a good stare at the six illustrious
strangers who had fallen a prey to the brigands, while Peppe, taking
advantage of the general confusion, made his escape from the back door
of his hut, and was soon lost to view in the thick grove of olive trees
that flanked the slopes of the hill. My story now draws towards a close.