St. Peter"s mother is the subject of a story which has given rise to a wide-spread proverb. She was, so runs the story, an avaricious woman, who never was known to do good to any one. In fact, during her whole life she never gave anything away, except the top of an onion to a beggar woman. After her death St. Peter"s mother went to h.e.l.l, and the saint begged our Lord to release her. In consideration of her one charitable act, an angel was sent to draw her from h.e.l.l with an onion-top. The other lost spirits clutched hold of her skirts, in order to escape with her, but the selfish woman tried to shake them off, and in her efforts to do so broke the onion-top, and fell back into h.e.l.l.
This story has given rise to the saying, "Like St. Peter"s mamma," which is found, with slight variations, all over Italy.[5]
A curious version of this story is given in Bernoni (_Leggende fant._ No. 8): After the onion-top was broken and St. Peter"s mother had fallen back into h.e.l.l, the story continues: "Out of regard, however, for St.
Peter, the Lord permitted her once a year, on St. Peter"s day, to leave h.e.l.l and wander about the earth a week; and, indeed, she does so every year, and during this week she plays all sorts of pranks and causes great trouble."[6]
St. Peter"s sisters are the subject of a story with a moral, contained in Schneller, p. 6.
LIV. ST. PETER AND HIS SISTERS.
St. Peter had two sisters--one large, the other small. The little one entered a convent and became a nun. St. Peter was delighted at this and tried to persuade his big sister to become a nun also. She would not listen to him, however, and said: "I would rather marry." After St.
Peter had suffered martyrdom, he became, as is well known, Porter of Heaven. One day the Lord said to him: "Peter, open the gate of heaven to-day as wide as you can, and get out all the heavenly ornaments and decorations, for to-day a very deserving soul is going to arrive here."
St. Peter did as he was told with great joy, and thought: "Certainly my little sister is dead, and is coming to heaven to-day." When everything was ready, there came the soul of ---- his big sister, who had died and left many children, who bitterly lamented her loss. The Lord gave her an exalted place in heaven, much to the astonishment of St. Peter, who thought: "I never should have imagined this; what shall I have to do when the soul of my little sister comes?"
Not long after, the Lord said to him: "Peter, open the gate of heaven to-day a little way, but a very little,--do you hear?" St. Peter did so and wondered: "Who is coming to-day?" Then came the soul of his little sister, and had so much trouble to squeeze through the gate that she hurt herself; and she received a much lower place in heaven than the big sister. At first St. Peter was amazed; afterwards he said: "It has happened differently from what I imagined; but I see now that every profession has its merits, and every one, if he only wishes, can enter heaven."
The cycle of stories referring to our Lord would not be complete without legends of Pilate, Judas, and the Wandering Jew. A powerful story is told of the first in Pitre, No. 119, which is as follows:
LV. PILATE.
It is said that the following once took place at Rome: A wagon loaded with stones was crossing a solitary spot in the country when one of the wheels sank into the ground and it was impossible to extricate it for some time. Finally they got it out, but there remained a large hole that opened into a dark room under ground. "Who wishes to descend into this hole?" "I," said the carter. They soon procured a rope and lowered the carter into the dark room. We will suppose that this carter"s name was Master Francis. Well, then, Master Francis, when he was let down, turned to the right and saw a door, which he opened, and found himself in darkness that you could cut. He turned to the left, the same; he went forward, the same; he turned once more and when he opened the door what did he see? He saw a man seated before a table; before him, pen, ink, and a written paper that he was reading; and when he finished it he began over again, and never raised his eyes from the paper. Master Francis, who was of incomparable courage, went up to him and said: "Who are you?" The man made no answer, but continued to read. "Who are you?"
said Master Francis again; but not a word. The third time, the man said: "Turn around, open your shirt, and I will write who I am on your back.
When you leave this place, go to the Pope and make him read who I am.
Remember, however, that the Pope alone must read it." Master Francis turned about, opened his shirt, the man wrote on his back, and then sat down again. Master Francis was courageous, it is true; but he was not made of wood, and in that moment he was frightened to death. He fixed his shirt and then asked: "How long have you been here?" but could get no answer from him. Seeing that it was time lost to question him, he gave the signal to those outside and was drawn up. When they saw him they did not recognize him; he had grown entirely white and seemed like an old man of ninety. "What was it? What happened?" they all began to say. "Nothing, nothing," he replied; "take me to the Pope, for I must confess." Two of those who were present conducted him to the Pope. When he was with him he related what had happened and taking off his shirt, said to him: "Read, your Holiness!" His Holiness read: "I AM PILATE."
And as he uttered these words the poor carter became a statue. And it is said that that man was Pilate, who was condemned to stay in a cave, always reading the sentence that he had p.r.o.nounced on Jesus Christ, without ever being able to take his eyes from the paper. This is the story of Pilate who is neither saved nor d.a.m.ned.[7]
Judas is believed to have hanged himself on a tamarind-tree, which, before that time, was a tall, beautiful tree. After Judas"s death it became the diminutive, shapeless shrub called _vruca_, which is a synonym for all that is worthless. The soul of the traitor is condemned to wander through the air, and every time it sees this shrub it pauses, and imagines it sees its miserable body dangling from it, the prey of birds and dogs.[8] This popular legend is told in the following words:
LVI. THE STORY OF JUDAS.
You must know that Judas was the one who betrayed Jesus Christ. Now when Judas betrayed him, his Master said: "Repent, Judas, for I pardon you."
But Judas, not at all! he departed with his bag of money, in despair and cursing heaven and earth. What did he do? While he was going along thus desperate he came across a tamarind-tree. (You must know that the tamarind was formerly a large tree, like the olive and walnut.) When he saw this tamarind a wild thought entered his mind, remembering the treason he had committed. He made a noose in a rope and hung himself to the tamarind. And hence it is (because this traitor Judas was cursed by G.o.d) that the tamarind-tree dried up, and from that time on it ceased growing up into a tree and became a short, twisted, and tangled bush; and its wood is good for nothing, neither to burn, nor to make anything out of, and all on account of Judas, who hanged himself on it.
Some say that the soul of Judas went to the lowest h.e.l.l, to suffer the most painful torments; but I have heard, from older persons who can know, that Judas"s soul has a severer sentence. They say that it is in the air, always wandering about the world, without being able to rise higher or fall lower; and every day, on all the tamarind shrubs that it meets, it sees its body hanging and torn by the dogs and birds of prey.
They say that the pain he suffers cannot be told, and that it makes the flesh creep to think of it. And thus Jesus Christ condemned him for his great treason.[9]
An interesting legend (Pitre, No. 120) is told of the Jew who struck our Lord with the palm of his hand (St. John xviii. 22), and whom the popular imagination has identified with the Malchus mentioned by St.
John, xviii. 10. It is called
LVII. DESPERATE MALCHUS.
This Malchus was one of those Jews who beat our Lord; a Jew more brutal than can be told. When Christ was taken to Pilate"s house, this Malchus, with an iron glove, gave him a blow so heavy that it knocked out all his teeth. For the sacrilegious act, the Lord condemned him to walk constantly, without ever resting, around a column in an underground room. This column is in a round room, and Malchus walks and walks without ever having peace or rest. They say that he has walked so much that he has worn the ground down many yards and made the column seem higher than it was, for this Malchus has led this life ever since our Lord"s pa.s.sion and death. It is said that this Malchus is desperate from his remorse, and while he walks he beats the column, strikes his head against the wall, and rages and laments; but notwithstanding he does not die, for the sentence of G.o.d is that he must live until the day of judgment.[10]
The same legend is found in Bernoni as follows:
LVIII. MALCHUS AT THE COLUMN.
Malchus was the head of the Jews who killed our Lord. The Lord pardoned them all, and likewise the good thief, but he never pardoned Malchus, because it was he who gave the Madonna a blow. He is confined under a mountain, and condemned to walk around a column, without resting, as long as the world lasts. Every time that he walks about the column he gives it a blow in memory of the blow he gave the mother of our Lord. He has walked around the column so long that he has sunk into the ground.
He is now up to his neck. When he is under, head and all, the world will come to an end, and G.o.d will then send him to the place prepared for him. He asks all those who go to see him (for there are such) whether children are yet born; and when they say yes, he gives a deep sigh and resumes his walk, saying: "The time is not yet!" for before the world comes to an end there will be no children born for seven years.[11]
This legend recalls the Wandering Jew, who is known in Sicilian tradition under the name of _b.u.t.tadeu_ (from _b.u.t.tari_, to thrust away, and _deu_, G.o.d) or more commonly as "The Jew who repulsed Jesus Christ."
He is reported to have appeared in Sicily, and the daughter of a certain Antonino Caseio, a peasant of Salaparuta, gives the following account of her father"s encounter with _b.u.t.tadeu_:
LIX. THE STORY OF b.u.t.tADEU.
It was in the winter, and my good father was at Scalone, in the warehouse, warming himself at the fire, when he saw a man enter, dressed differently from the people of that region, with breeches striped in yellow, red, and black, and his cap the same way. My good father was frightened. "Oh!" he said, "what is this person?" "Do not be afraid,"
the man said. "I am called _b.u.t.tadeu_." "Oh!" said my father, "I have heard you mentioned. Be pleased to sit down a while and tell me something." "I cannot sit, for I am condemned by my G.o.d always to walk."
And while he was speaking he was always walking up and down and had no rest. Then he said: "Listen. I am going away; I leave you, in memory of me, this, that you must say a _credo_ at the right hand of our Lord, and five other _credos_ at his left, and a _salve regina_ to the Virgin, for the grief I suffer on account of her son. I salute you." "Farewell."
"Farewell, my name is _b.u.t.tadeu_."[12]
We have only a few legends of the saints to mention. Undoubtedly a large number are current among the people (Busk, pp. 196, 202, 203, 213-228, gives a good many), but they do not differ materially from the literary versions circulated by the Church. Those which we shall cite are purely popular and belong to the great mediaeval legend-cycle.
The first is the legend of "Gregory on the Stone," which was so popular in the mediaeval epics. There are several Italian versions, but we select as the most complete the one in Gonzenbach, No. 85, called:
LX. THE STORY OF CRIVLIU.
Once upon a time there was a brother and sister who had neither father nor mother, and lived alone together. They loved each other so much that they committed a sin which they should not have committed. When the time came the sister gave birth to a boy, which the brother had secretly baptized. Then he burnt into his shoulders a cross, with these words: "Crivliu, who is baptized; son of a brother and sister." After the child was thus marked, he put it in a little box and threw it into the sea.
Now it happened that a fisherman had just gone out to fish, and saw the box floating on the waves. "A ship must have sunk somewhere," he thought. "I will get the box, perhaps there is something useful in it."
So he rowed after it and got it. When he opened it and saw the little child in it, he had pity on the innocent child, took it home to his wife, and said: "My dear wife, our youngest child is already old enough to wean; nurse in its place this poor innocent child." So his wife took little Crivliu and nursed him, and loved him as though he were her own child. The boy grew and thrived and became every day larger and stronger.
The fisherman"s sons, however, were jealous because their parents loved the little foundling as well as them, and when they played with Crivliu and quarrelled, they called him a "foundling." The boy"s heart was saddened by this and he went to his foster-parents and said: "Dear parents, tell me, am I truly not your son?" The fisherman"s wife said: "How should you not be my son? Have I not nursed you when you were a baby?" The fisherman forbade his children very strictly to call little Crivliu a "foundling."
When the child was larger, the fisherman sent him to school with his sons. The children, when they were out of their father"s hearing, began again to mock little Crivliu and to call him "foundling," and the other children in the school did the same. Then Crivliu went again to his foster-parents and asked them if he was not their son. They persuaded him out of it, however, and put him off until he was fourteen. Then he could no longer stand being called "foundling," and went to the fisherman and his wife, and said: "Dear parents, I entreat you to tell me whether I am your child or not." Then the fisherman told him how he had found him and what was written on his shoulders. "Then I will go forth, and do penance for the sins of my parents," said Crivliu. The fisherman"s wife wept and lamented and would not let him go; but Crivliu would not be detained and wandered out into the wide world.
After he had wandered about a long time, he came one day to a lonely place where there was only an inn. He asked the hostess: "Tell me, good woman, is there a cave near by, to which you alone know the entrance?"
She answered: "Yes, my handsome youth, I know such a cave and will take you to it willingly." Then Crivliu took two _grani"s_ worth of bread and a little pitcher of water with him and had the hostess show him the cave. It was some distance from the inn, and the entrance was so covered with thorns and bushes that he could scarcely penetrate into the cave.
He sent the hostess back, crept into the cave, put the bread and water on the ground, knelt with folded arms, and so did penance for the sins of his parents.
Many, many years pa.s.sed, I know not how many, but so many, that his knees took root and he grew fast to the ground.
Now it happened that the Pope died at Rome, and a new one was to be chosen. The cardinals all a.s.sembled, and a white dove was let loose: for he on whom it should alight was to be Pope. The white dove made several circles in the air, but alighted on no one. Then all the archbishops and bishops were summoned, and the dove was again let loose, but it did not settle on any one. Then all the priests and monks and hermits were collected, but the white dove would not choose any of them. The people were in great despair, and the cardinals had to wander forth and search the whole country to see whether another hermit was yet to be found, and a crowd of people accompanied them.