Chapter VIII: Part 8

'What do you mean by keeping me here like this?' said Death; 'I told you I had so much to do.'

'Oh, you want to go, do you?' said Pret' Olivo, quietly.

'Of course I do. Tell some one to clear away those burning logs, and let me out.'

'Will you promise me to leave me alone for another hundred years if I do?'

'Yes, yes; anything you like. I shall be very glad to keep away from this place for a hundred years.'

Then he let her go, and she set off running with those long thin legs of hers.

The second hundred years came to an end.

'Are you ready, Pret' Olivo?' said Death one morning, putting her head in at the door.

'Pretty nearly,' answered Pret' Olivo. 'Meantime, just take that basket, and gather me a couple of figs to eat before I go.'

As she went away he said, 'Stick to the tree' (but not so that she could hear it); for you remember he had power given him to make her do what he liked. She had therefore to stick to the tree.

'Well, Lady Death, are you never going to bring those figs?' cried Pret' Olivo after a time.

'How can I bring them, when you know I can't get down from this tree? Instead of making game of me, come and take me down.'

'Will you leave me alone another hundred years if I do?'

'Yes, yes; anything you like. Only make haste and let me go.'

The third hundred years came to an end, and Death appeared again. 'Are you ready this time, Pret' Olivo?' she cried out as she approached.

'Yes, this time I'll come with you,' answered Pret' Olivo. Then he vested himself in the Church vestments, and put a cope on, and took a pack of cards in his hand, and said to Death, 'Now take me to the gate of Hell, for I want to play a game of cards with the Devil.'

'Nonsense!' answered Death. 'I'm not going to waste my time like that. I've got orders to take you to Paradise, and to Paradise you must go.'

'You know you've got orders to obey whatever I tell you,' answered Pret' Olivo; and Death knew that was true, so she lost no more time in disputing, but took him all the way round by the gate of Hell.

At the gate of Hell they knocked.

'Who's there?' said the Devil.

'Pret' Olivo,' replied Death.

'Out with you, ugly priest!' said the Devil. 'I'm surprised at you, Death, making game of me like that; you know that's not the sort of ware for my market.' [150]

'Silence, and open the door, ugly Pluto! [151] I'm not come to stay. I only want to have a game of cards with you. Here's my soul for stake on my side, against the last comer on your side,' interposed Pret' Olivo.

Pret' Olivo won the game, and hung the soul on to his cope.

'We must have another game,' said the Devil.

'With all my heart!' replied Pret' Olivo; and he won another soul. Another and another he won, and his cope was covered all over with the souls clinging to it.

Meantime, Death thought it was going on rather too long, so she looked through the keyhole, and, finding they were just beginning another game, she cried out loudly;

'It's no use playing any more, for I'm not going to be bothered to carry all those souls all the way up to Heaven--a likely matter, indeed!'

But Pret' Olivo went on playing without taking any notice of her; and he hung them on to his beretta, till at last you could hardly see him at all for the number of souls he had clinging to him. There was no place for any more, so at last he stopped playing.

'I'm not going to take all those other souls,' said Death when he came out; 'I've only got orders to take you.'

'Then take me,' answered Pret' Olivo.

Death saw that the souls were all hung on so that she could not take him without taking all the rest; so away she went with the lot of them, without disputing any more.

At last they arrived at the Gate of Paradise. St. Peter opened the door when they knocked; but when he saw who was there he shut the door again.

'Make haste!' said Death; 'I've no time to waste.'

'Why did you waste your time in bringing up souls that were not properly consigned to you?' answered St. Peter.

'It wasn't I brought them, it was Pret' Olivo. And your Master charged me I was to do whatever he told me.'

'My Master! Oh, then, I'm out of it,' said St. Peter. 'Only wait a minute, while I just go and ask Him whether it is so.' St. Peter ran to ask; and receiving an affirmative answer, came back and opened the gate, and they all got in.

8

DOMINE QUO VADIS.

'You know, of course, about St. Peter, when they put him in the prisons here; he found a way of escaping through the "catacomboli," and just as he had got out into the open road again he met Jesus Christ coming towards him carrying His cross. And St. Peter asked Him what he was doing going into the "catacomboli." But Jesus Christ answered, "I am not going into the 'catacomboli' to stay; I am going back by the way you came to be crucified over again, since you refuse to die for the flock." Then St. Peter turned and went all the way back, and was crucified with his head downwards, for he said he was not worthy to die in the same way as his Master.'

[Counterparts of these stories abound in the collections of all countries; in the Norse, and Gaelic, and Russian, more of the pagan element seems to stick to them. In Grimm's are some with both much and little of it. From Tirol I have given two, which are literally free from it, in 'Household Stories from the Land of Hofer;' and I have one or two picked up for me by a friend in Brittany, of which the same may be said. On the other hand, we meet them again in another form in that large group of strange compounds, of which 'Il Rè Moro,' p. 97, &c., are the Roman representatives, and 'Marienkind,' pp. 7-12, 'Grimm Kinder und Hausmährchen,' ed. 1870, the link between them. In the minds of the Roman narrators, however, I am quite clear no such connexion exists. See also p. 207 infra.

One of the quaintest legends of this class is given in Scheible's 'Schaltjahr.' It is meant for a charm to drive away wolves.]

'Lord Jesus Christ and St. Peter went in the morning out.
As our Lady went on before she said (turning about),
"Ah, dear Lord! whither must we go in and out?
We must over hill and dale (roundabout).
May God guard the while my flock (devout).
Let not St. Peter go his keys without;
But take them and lock up the wild dogs' [152] snout,
That they no bone of them all may flout."'

PIETRO BAILLIARDO. [153]

1

What! Never heard of Pietro Bailliardo! Surely you must, if you ever heard anything at all. Why, everybody knows about Pietro Bailliardo! Why, he was here and there and everywhere in Rome; and turned everybody's head, and they have his books now, that they took away from him, locked up in the Holy Office. [154]

Pietro Bailliardo was a scholar boy, and went to school like other boys. One day he found at a bookstall a book of divination; [155] with this he was able to do whatever he would, and wherever he was, there the Devil was in command.

He fell in love with a girl, and she would have nothing to do with him; and one day afterwards they found her on Mont Cavallo with a great fire burning round her, and everyone who passed had to stir the fire whether he would or not.

Whatever he wanted he ordered to come and it came to him, and nobody could resist him.

As to putting him in prison it was no manner of use. One day when they had put him in prison he took a piece of charcoal and drew a boat on the white prison wall, then he jumped into it, and said to all the other prisoners, 'Get in too,' and they got in, and he rowed away, and next morning they were all loose about Rome. But there was an old man asleep in a corner of the prison, and the guards came to him and said, 'Where are all the prisoners gone?' And he told them about Pietro Bailliardo drawing the boat on the prison wall with the charcoal and their all getting away in it. 'And why didn't you go too?' asked the guards. 'Because I was asleep so comfortably I did not want to move,' said he. ('But then, how did he see it all unless Pietro Bailliardo had him put under a spell on purpose that he might tell the authorities how he had defied them?' added the narrator.)

Another time again they shut him up in prison, and the next morning when they came to look for him they found nothing but an ass's head in his place, which he had left there just to show his contempt for them.

One day a zealous friar met him and warned him to repent. 'What have I to repent of?' said he. 'I can hear mass better than you, for I can hear mass in three places at once.' Then he went away and made the Devil take him to Constantinople and Paris to hear mass at each while all at one and the same time he was hearing one at Rome too! Then he came and told the friar what a grand thing he had done. But the friar told him it was worse than not hearing mass at all to attempt to use diabolical arts in that way.

After that one day he was going up past the church of SS. John and Paul [156] when the Devil met him.

'Now,' said the Devil, 'you have had your swing long enough; I have come to fetch you!'

When Pietro Bailliardo, who had set all the world at defiance all his life, saw the Devil and heard him say he had come to fetch him, he was seized with such terror that he began to repent, and ran inside the church. The Devil durst not follow him thither, but waited outside thinking he would soon be turned out.

But Pietro Bailliardo took up a great stone and went and kneeled down before the crucifix and smote his bare breast with the big stone, saying the while, 'Behold! merciful Lord, I beat my breast with this stone till Thou bow Thy head in token that Thou forgive me.'

And he went on beating his breast till the blood ran down, and at last our Lord had compassion on him and bowed His head from the cross to him, and he died there. So the Devil did not get him.

2

'You have told me so many stories, why have you never told me anything about Pietro Bailliardo--don't you know about him?'

'Of course I know about him. Who in Rome doesn't know about him? but I can't remember it all. I know he had the book of divination, and could make the Devil do whatever he chose by its means. And then one day, I don't remember by what circumstance, he was led to do penance; but he would do it in his own way, not in the right way, and he made a vow to the Madonna that he would pay a visit to some shrine in Rome and to S. Giacomo di Galizia, [157] and to the Santa Casa di Loreto all in the same night. As devils can fly through the air at a wonderful pace he called upon a devil by his divining book and told him what he wanted; then he got on the back of the devil and rode away through the air and actually visited all three in one night.

'But that sort of penance was no penance at all. After that he did penance in right earnest at some church, I forget which.'

'Was it SS. John and Paul?' I asked.

'Yes, to be sure; SS. John and Paul. And you knew it all the time, and yet have been asking me!'

3

'Do you want to know about Pietro Bailliardo too?' said the old man who had given me No. 2 of San Giovanni Bocca d'oro. 'Oh, yes; I did know a deal about him. This is what I can remember.

'Pietro Bailliardo had a bond [158] with the Devil, by which he was as rich as he could be, and had whatever he wanted; but the day came when the compact came to an end, and Pietro Bailliardo quailed as that day approached, for he knew that after that time the Devil could take him and he could not resist.

'Before noon on that day, therefore, he set out to go to St. Paul's.'

'To SS. John and Paul?' asked I, full of the former versions.

'No, no! to the great St. Paul's outside the walls, where the monks of St. Benedict are; and he waited there all day, for before the time was out the Devil couldn't take him. At last evening came on, and the chierico [159] wanted to shut the church up; so he told Pietro Bailliardo he must go, and showed him to the door. But when he came to the door, he found the Devil there waiting for him dressed like a paino. [160] When he saw that, no power of the chierico could make him go; so the chierico was obliged to call the Father Abbot.

'To the Father Abbot Pietro Bailliardo told his whole story, and the Father Abbot said, "If that is so, come with me to the Inquisition, and tell your story there and receive absolution." Then he sent for a carriage, and said to the driver, "Be of good heart, for I have many relics of saints with me, and whatever strange thing you may see or hear by the way, have no fear, it shall not harm you."

'The Devil saw all this, and was in a great fury, for he has no power to alter future events, and so he couldn't help Pietro Bailliardo going into the church for sanctuary before the time was up. He got a number of devils together, therefore, and made unearthly and terrible noises all the way. But the driver had confidence in the word of the Abbot, and drove on without heeding. Only when they got to the bridge of St. Angelo the noise was so tremendous he got quite bewildered; moreover the bridge heaved and rocked as though it were going to break in twain.

'"Fear nothing, fear nothing! Nothing will harm you," said the Father Abbot; and the driver, having confidence in his words, drove on without heeding, and they arrived safely at the Palace of the Inquisition.

'The Father Abbot now delivered Pietro Bailliardo over to the Penitentiary, to whom, moreover, he made confession of his terrible crimes, and begged to remain to perform his penance and obtain reconciliation with God.

'But as Pietro Bailliardo had been used to follow his own strange ways all his life, he must needs now perform his penance too in his own strange way. Therefore he made a vow that he would perform such a penance as man never performed before; and this penance was to visit, all in one night, the SS. Crocifisso in the Chapel of the Holy Office, S. Giacomo di Galizia, and the sanctuary of Cirollo. All in one night!'

'Stop! S. Giacomo di Galizia I know; we call it S. James of Compostella; but the sanctuary of Cirollo! I never heard of that; where is it?'

'Oh, Cirollo is all the same as if you said Loreto; the Madonna di Loreto; it is all one.'

I appealed to one sitting there who, I knew, had been brought up at Loreto.

'Yes, yes,' she said. 'That is all right; Cirollo is just a walk from Loreto. Noi altri when living at Loreto often go there, but those who come from far, most often don't; so we have a saying, "Who goes to Loreto and not to Cirollo, he sees the mother, but not the son." [161] 'It is a saying, and nothing more.'

'Basta!' interposed the old man, who, like other old people, was apt to forget the thread of his story if interrupted. 'Basta! it doesn't matter: they were anyhow three places very far apart. [162] So Pietro Bailliardo, who couldn't get out of his habit of commanding the devils, called up a number of them, and said, "Which of all you fiends can go the fastest?" and the devils, accustomed to obey him, answered the one before the other, some one way some another, each anxious to content him: "I, like lightning," said one; "I, like the wind," said another; but "I--I can go as fast as thought," [163] said another. "Ho! Here! You fiend. You, who can travel as fast as thought. You come here, and take me to-night to St. James of Compostella, and to the sanctuary of Cirollo, and bring me back here to the Chapel of the Holy Office before morning breaks."

'He spoke imperiously, and sprang on to the devil's back, and all was done so quickly the devil had no time for thought or hesitation.

'Away flew the devil, and Pietro Bailliardo on his back, all the way to St. James of Compostella, and, whr-r-r-r all the way to the sanctuary of Cirollo, fast, fast as thought. Then suddenly the devil stopped midway. An idea had struck him. "What had a devil to do with going about visiting shrines in this way; no harm had been done to the sacred place; not a stone had been injured; [164] why then had they gone to S. Giacomo; why were they going to Cirollo?"

'"Tell me, Ser Bailliardo," said he, "on whose account am I sweating like this? is it for your private account, or for my master's; because I only obey you so long as you command in his name, and how can it serve him to be doing pilgrim's work?"

'"Go on, ugly monster! don't prate," [165] answered Pietro Bailliardo, and gave him at the same time a kick in each flank; and such was his empire over him that the devil durst say no more, and completed the strange pilgrimage even as he had commanded. [166]

'Thus even in his penitence Pietro Bailliardo had the devils subject to him. But after that he did penance in right good earnest, only he chose a strange way of his own again.

'He knelt before the Crucifix in the Chapel of the Inquisition, and he took a great stone and beat his breast with it and said, "Lord, behold my repentance; I smite my breast thus till Thou forgive me." And when the blood flowed down the Lord had compassion on him and bowed His head upon the cross and said, "I have forgiven thee!"

'After that he died in peace.'

S. GIOVANNI BOCCA D'ORO.

1

St. John of the Golden Mouth was another famous penitent we had here in Rome. He had treated a number of young girls shamefully, and then killed them.

But one day the grace of God touched him, and he went out into the Campagna, to a solitary place, and there, with a wattle of rushes, he made himself a hut, and lived there doing penance far, far away from any human habitation.

One day a king, and his wife, and his sons, and his daughter all went out to hunt. They got overtaken by a storm, and separated; some hasted home in one direction, and some in another, but the daughter they could not find anywhere, and when they had searched everywhere for many days and could not find her, they gave her up for lost.

But she, as she was running, had seen the hut of St. John of the Golden Mouth, and knocked at the door.

'Begone!' shouted the penitent, thinking it was the Devil come to tempt him.

But she continued knocking.

'Begone! Out into the wild! nor disturb my peace, Evil One!' shouted he again.

'I am not the Evil One,' answered the princess; 'I am only a woman; I have lost my way, and crave shelter from the storm.'

When he heard that, he got up and let her in; but when he saw her, he could not resist treating her as he had treated the other maidens. Then he killed her, and threw her body into a well.

But the next day, when he came to think of what he had done, he said to himself,

'How is it possible that I, who have come here to do penance for my crimes, should out here, even in my penitential hut, commit the same crime again? I must go further from temptation, and do deeper penance yet.'

So he left the shelter of his hut, and all his clothes, and went into the wild country and lived with the wild beasts, and became like one of them. After many years he grew quite accustomed to go on all fours, and his body was all covered with hair like a lion's, and he lost the use of speech.

Then, one day the same king went out hunting. Suddenly there was a great cry of the dogs. They had found an animal of which the huntsmen had never seen the like before. So strange was it, that they said, we must not kill it, but must bring it to the king. With much difficulty they whipped the dogs off, and they brought it to the king, so like a four-footed creature had San Giovanni Bocca d'oro grown.

Neither could the king make out what kind of creature it was; so he told the huntsmen to put a chain on it, and bring it to the palace.

When they got home to the palace, everyone was astonished at the appearance of the creature the huntsmen had with them, and they called out with such loud exclamations that the queen, who was ill in bed, heard them, and she asked what it was about. When they told her, she was seized with a violent desire to see the creature. But they said she must by no means see it, being ill; but the more they opposed her wish, the more vehement she was to see it, till, at last, the nurses said it would do more harm to continue refusing her than to let her see it.

So they led the creature by the chain into her room, and placed him by her bedside.

When the queen saw him, she said, 'This is no four-footed beast, but a man, like one of you.' And she spoke to him, and asked him to say who he was; but he had lost the use of speech, and could not answer her.

Then the baby that was lying on the pillow by her side, just born, raised its head, and said out loud, so that all could hear, in a voice plain and clear--

'Giovanni Bocca d'oro, God hath forgiven thee thy sins and iniquities.'

The queen was yet more astonished when she heard her new-born babe speak thus, and she asked St. John what it could mean. When she saw he could not answer her, she ordered that they should give him pen and paper.

Then, though they gave him a common pen, all he wrote appeared in letters of shining gold, and he wrote down all that I have told you. Moreover, he bid them send to the well where he had thrown the body of the princess, and fetch her back.

When they had done so, they found her whole and sound, and only a little cicatriced wound in her throat. Then they asked her in astonishment how she had lived in that dark, damp well all these years.

But she answered, 'Every day there came to me a beautiful Roman matron in shining apparel, and she brought me food and consoled me, and after she had been there the well was bright, and sweet, and perfumed.' And they knew that it must have been the Madonna.

As soon as she was thus restored to her parents, and had declared these things, San Giovanni Bocca d'oro died in peace, for God had forgiven him.

2

'Ah! I knew so many of those things once, but now they are all gone, all gone.' This was said by a fine old man, who boasted of having the same number of years and the same name as the Pope.

'I dare say you can tell me something about San Giovanni Bocca d'oro, however,' I said.

'San Giovanni Bocca d'oro! Of course. Everybody in Rome knows about San Giovanni Bocca d'oro. Do you want to know about him? That's not a story; that's a fact.'

'Yes, all you know about him I want to hear.'

'It's a long story--too long to remember.'

'Never mind, tell me all you can recall.'

'San Giovanni Bocca d'oro lived in a village--'

'Not in Rome, then!' interposed I.

'Yes, yes, one of the villages about Rome; I don't remember now which, if I ever knew, but about Rome of course. One day he saw a beautiful peasant girl, and fell in love with her. But he behaved very ill to her and never married her, and afterwards killed her and threw her body into a well.

'Afterwards a great sorrow came upon him for what he had done, and he was so ashamed of his sin that he said he would remain no more to pollute other Christians with his presence, but went out into the Campagna and lived like a four-footed beast; and made a vow that he would remain with his face towards the earth [167] until such time as God should be pleased to let him know, by the mouth of a little child, that His wrath was appeased.

'Many years passed, and San Giovanni continued his penance without wearying, always on all fours.

'One day, the nurse of some emperor or king was out with the little child she had charge of when a storm came on, and they ran and lost their way. Thus running, they came upon San Giovanni in his penance. He looked so wild and strange the nurse would have run away from him, but the child held out its arms towards him without being at all frightened, and, although so young that it had never spoken, cried aloud, "Giovanni, get up, God hath forgiven thee!"

'At this voice all the people gathered round, and they took him back to the village; and he went straight to the well and blessed it, and there rose out of it, all whole and fresh, the maiden whom he had killed.

'Then he sent for pen and tablet, for he had lost the use of speech, and wrote down all that had befallen him; and as he wrote all the letters became gold. That is why he is called San Giovanni Bocca d'oro.

'And when he had written all these things he died in peace.'

3

In another version he was living an ordinary life in his 'villa,' not in a penitential cell, when the king's daughter lost her way at the hunt. After the crime he was seized with compunction, and went out into the Campagna, living only on the herbs he could gather with his mouth, like an animal, and vowing that he would never again raise his head to Heaven till God gave him some token that He had forgiven him.

After eight years the king found him when out hunting, and, taking him for some kind of beast, put him in the stables. The little prince who was just born was taken by to the church to be baptised about this time; and, as they carried him back past the stables, he said aloud, 'Rise, Giovanni, for God hath forgiven thy sins.' Every one was very much astonished to hear him speak, and they sent for Giovanni and asked him to explain what it meant.

The rest as in the other versions.

[I have repeatedly come across this story, but without any material variation from one or other of the versions already given. It would be curious to trace how St. John Chrysostom's name ever became connected with it. Though famous for his penitential life as much as for his eloquence, and though the four years he passed in the cells of the Antiochian cenobites were austere enough, yet his memory is stained by no sort of crime. So far from it, he was most carefully brought up by a widowed mother, whose exemplary virtues are said to have occasioned the exclamation from the Saint's master, 'What wonderful women have these Christians!'--Butler's 'Lives.' There is something like its termination in that of 'The Fiddler in Hell.'--Ralston's 'Russian Folk Tales,' pp. 299, 300. The years of voluntary silence, and the finding of the silent person by a king out hunting, enter into many tales otherwise of another class, as in 'Die Zwölf Brüder' (the Twelve Brothers), Grimm, p. 37, and 'Die Sechs Schwäne' (the Six Swans), p. 191.]

DON GIOVANNI.

We had another Giovanni who had done worse things even than these, and who never became a penitent at all. Don Giovanni he was called. Everybody in Rome knew him by the name of Don Giovanni.

Among the other bad things he did, he killed a great man who was called the Commendatore; and though he had the crime of murder on his conscience he took no account of it, but swaggered about with an air of bravado as if he cared for no one.

One day when he was walking out in the Campagna he saw a great white skeleton coming to meet him. It was the skeleton of the commendatore whom he had killed.

'How dy'e do?' said Don Giovanni, with effrontery. 'There's an Accademia [168] to-night at my house, I shall be very happy to see you at it;' and he took off his hat with mock gravity.

'I will certainly come,' replied the commendatore in a sepulchral voice; but Don Giovanni burst out laughing.

In the midst of the Accademia some one knocked. 'All the guests are arrived,' said the servant, 'yet some one knocks.'

'Never mind, open!' replied Don Giovanni, carelessly. 'Let him in whoever it is.'

The servant went to open, and came running back to say he could not let the new guest in because he was only the miller, who had come in his white coat all over flour.

All soon saw, however, that the guest was not the miller, though he looked so white. For it was the white skeleton of the commendatore; and it followed the servant into the room. Then fear seized on all and they ran away to hide themselves; some behind the door, some behind the curtains, and some under the table.

Don Giovanni stood alone in the middle of the room with his usual effrontery, and held out his hand to the skeleton.

'Repent thee!' [169] said the White Skeleton, solemnly.

'A cavalier like me doesn't repent like common beggars!' replied Don Giovanni, scornfully.

'Repent!' again repeated the White Skeleton, with more awful emphasis.

'I have something much more amusing to do!' replied Don Giovanni, with a laugh.

'Don Giovanni!' cried the White Skeleton, the third time yet more solemnly. 'Though you took away my life yet am I come to save your soul, if I may, and therefore I say again, Repent! or beware of what is to follow.'

'Well done, old fellow! very generous of you!' said Don Giovanni, with a mocking laugh, and again holding out his hand.

They were his last words. The next minute he gave an awful yell which might have been heard all over Rome. The White Skeleton had disappeared, and the Devil had come in his place, and had taken Don Giovanni by his extended hand and dragged him off.

[Tullio Dandolo, 'Monachismo e Leggende' p. 314-5, quotes a similar legend from Passavanti, 'Specchio della vera Penitenza.' The story of Don Giovanni's misdeeds brought up in the narrator's mind those of Pepe (Giuseppe) Mastrilo, famous in the annals of both Spanish and Italian bandits. It was, however, only a story of violence and crime without point.]

THE PENANCE OF SAN GIULIANO.

'Can you tell me the story of San Giovanni Bocca d'oro?'

'Of course I know about San Giovanni Bocca d'oro, that is, I know he was a great penitent, but I couldn't remember anything, not to tell you about him. But I know about another great penitent. Do you know about the Penitence of San Giuliano? That is a story you'll like if you don't know it already; but it's not a favola, mind.'

'I know there are seven or eight saints at least of the name of Julian, but I don't know the acts of them all; so pray tell me your story.'

'Here it is then.

'San Giuliano was the only son of his parents, who lived at Albano. In his youth he was rather wild, [170] and gave his parents some anxiety; but what gave them more anxiety still on his account was that an astrologer had predicted that when he grew up he should kill both his parents.

'"It is not only for our lives," said the parents, "that we should be concerned--that is no such great matter; but we must put him out of the way of committing so great a crime."

'Therefore they gave him a horse, and his portion of money, and told him to ride forth and make himself a home in another place. So San Giuliano went forth; and thirty years passed, and his parents heard no more of him. Thirty years is a long time; many things pass out of mind in thirty years. Thus the astrologer's prediction passed out of their minds; but what never passes out of the mind of a mother is the love of her child, and the mother of San Giuliano yearned to see him after thirty years as though he had gone away but yesterday.

'One day when they were walking in the woods about Albano they saw a little boy come and climb into a tree and take a bird's nest; and presently, after the little boy was gone away with the nest, the parent birds came back and fluttered all about, and uttered piercing cries for the loss of their young.

'"See!" said San Giuliano's mother, taking occasion by this example, "how these unreasoning creatures care for the loss of their young, and we live away from our only son and are content."

'"By no means are we content," replied the father; "let us therefore rise now and go seek him."

'So they put on pilgrims' weeds, and wandered forth to seek their son. On and on they went till they came to a place, a city called Galizia; [171] and there, as they walk along weary, they meet a gentle lady, who looks upon them mildly and compassionately, and says, "Whence do you come, poor pilgrims? what a long way you must have travelled!" [172]

'And they, cheered by her mode of address and sympathy, make answer, "We have wandered over mountains and plains. We come from the mountain town of Albano. We go about seeking our son Giuliano." [173]

'"Giuliano!" exclaimed the lady, "is the name of my husband. Just now he is out hunting, but come in with me and receive my hospitality for love of his name." She took them home and washed their feet, and refreshed them, and set food before them, and ultimately gave them her own bed to sleep in.

'But the Devil came to Giuliano out hunting, and tempted him with jealous thoughts about his wife, and tormented him with all manner of calumnious insinuations, so that his mind was filled with fury. Coming home hunting-knife in hand, he rushed into the bedroom, and seeing two forms in bed, without waiting to know who they were, he plunged his knife into them, and killed them.

'Thus, without knowing it, he had killed both his father and his mother.

'Coming out of the room he met his wife, who came to seek him to welcome him.

'"What, you here!" he cried. "Who then are those in the bed, whom I have killed?"

'"Killed!" replied the wife, "they were a pilgrim couple to whom I gave hospitality for love of you, because they wandered seeking a son named Giuliano." Then Giuliano knew what he had done, and was seized with penitence for his hasty yielding to suspicion and anger. So stricken with sorrow was he, he was as one dead, nor could anyone move him to speak. Then his wife came to him and said, "We will do penance together; we will lay aside ease and riches, and will devote ourselves to the poor and needy."

'And he embraced her and said, "It is well spoken."

'Near where they lived was a rapid river, and no bridge, and many were drowned in attempting to cross it, and many had a weary way to walk to find a bridge. Said Giuliano, "We will build a bridge over the river." And many pilgrims came to Galizia who had not where to rest. Said Giuliano, "We will build a hospice for poor pilgrims, where they may be received and be tended according to their needs, till God forgives me."

'So they set forth, Giuliano and his wife, to go to Rome to find workmen. [174] But as they went, a troop met them, and came round them, and said to them, "Where are you going?"

'"We go to Rome," answered Giuliano, "to find workmen to build a bridge."

'"We are your men, we are your men; for we have built many bridges ere now." [175]

'Then Giuliano took them back with him, and all in two days they built the bridge.

'"How can this be?" said Giuliano's wife; "here is something that is not right," for she was so holy that she discerned the Evil One was in it.

'"Be sure, Giuliano," she said, "there is some snare here. Take, therefore, a cheese, hard and round, and roll it along the bridge, [176] and send our dog after it; if they get across, well and good."

'Giuliano, always prone to accept his wife's prudent counsel, did as she bid him, and rolled the cheese along the bridge, and sent the dog after it; and, see! no sooner were they in the middle of the bridge than the bridge sank in; and they knew that the Devil had built it, and that it was no bridge for Christians to go over.

'Then said Giuliano, "God has not forgiven me yet. Now, let us build the hospice."

'They set out, therefore, to go to Rome to find workmen to build the hospice; and when the troop of demons came round them, saying, "We are your workmen, we are your workmen!" they paid them no heed, but went on to Rome, and fetched workmen thence, and the hospice was built; and all the pilgrims who came they received, and gave them hospitality, and the whole house was full of pilgrims.

'Then, when the house was full, quite full of pilgrims, there came an old man, and begged admission. "Good man," said Giuliano's wife, "it grieves my heart to say so, but there is not a bed, nor so much as an empty corner left;" and the old man said:

'"If ye cannot receive me, it is because ye have done so much charity to me already; therefore take this staff:" so he gave them his pilgrim's staff, and went his way.

'But it was Jesus Christ who came in the semblance of that old man; and when Giuliano took the staff, behold three flowers blossomed on it, and he said:

'"See! God has forgiven me!"'

[Now I see this story in type I am inclined to think it is not strictly traditional, like the rest; but that the narrator had acquired it from one of the rimed legends mentioned at p. vii.]

THE PILGRIMS.

There was a husband and wife, who had been married two or three years, and had no children. At last, they made a vow to S. Giacomo di Galizia that if they only had two children, one boy and one girl, even if no more than that, they would be so grateful that they would go a pilgrimage to his shrine, all the way to Galizia.

In due time two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, who were twins; and they were full of gladness and rejoicing, and devoted themselves to the care of their children, but they forgot all about their vow. When many years were passed, and the children were, it maybe, fifteen or sixteen years old, they dreamed a dream, both husband and wife in one night, that St. James appeared, and said:

'You made a vow to visit my shrine if you had two children. Two children have been born to you, and you have not kept your vow; most certainly evil will overtake you for your broken word. Behold, time is given you; but if now you fulfil not your vow, both your children will die.'

In the morning the wife told the dream to the husband, and the husband told the dream to the wife, and they said to each other, 'This is no common dream; we must look to it.' So they bought pilgrims' dresses, and went to 'Galizia,' the husband, and wife, and the son; but concerning the daughter they said, 'The maiden is of too tender years for this journey, let her stay with her nurse;' and they left her in the charge of the nurse and the parish priest. But that priest was a bad man--for it will happen that a priest may be bad sometimes; and, instead of leading her right, he wanted her to do many bad things, and when she would not listen to him, he wrote false letters to her parents about her, and gave a report of her conduct to shock her parents. When the brother saw these letters of the priest concerning his sister, he was indignant with her, and, without waiting for his parents' advice, went back home quickly, and killed her with his dagger, and threw her body into a ditch. But he went back to the shrine of St. James to live in penance.

Not long had her body lain in the ditch when a king's son came by hunting, and the dogs scented the blood of a Christian lying in the ditch, and bayed over it till the huntsmen came and took out the body; when they saw it was the body of a fair maiden, yet warm, they showed it to the prince, and the prince when he saw the maiden, loved her, and took her to a convent to be healed of her wound, and afterwards married her; and when his father died, he was king and she became a queen.

But her father and mother, hearing only that her brother had killed her and thrown her body in the ditch, and supposing she was dead, said one to the other, 'Why should we go back home, seeing that our daughter is dead? What have we to go home for? There is nothing but sorrow for us there.' So they remained at the shrine of St. James, and built a hospice for poor pilgrims, and tended them.

Meantime the daughter, who had become a queen, she also had two children, a boy and a girl, and her husband rejoiced in them and in her. But troubled times came, and her husband had to go forth to battle, and while she was left without him in the palace, the viceroy came to her and wanted her to do wrong, and when she would not listen to him, he took her two children and killed them before her eyes. 'What do I here,' said she, 'seeing my two children are dead?' And she took the bodies of her children and went forth. When she had wandered long by solitary places, she came one day to a mountain, and at the foot of the mountain sat a dwarf, [177] and the dwarf had compassion when he saw how she was worn with crying, and he said to her, 'Go up the mountain and be consoled.' Thus she went up the mountain till she saw a majestic woman, with an infant in her arms; and this was the Madonna, you must know. [178]

When she saw a woman like herself, with a child too, for all that she looked so bright and majestic, she was consoled; and she poured all her story into her ear. 'And I would go to S. Giacomo di Galizia to ask that my husband's love may be restored to me, for I know the viceroy will calumniate me to him; but how can I leave these children?' Then the lady said, 'Leave your children with me, and they shall be with my child, and go you to Galizia as you have said, and be consoled.' So she put on pilgrim's weeds, and went to Galizia.

Meantime the king came back from battle, and the viceroy told him evil about the queen; and his mother, who also believed the viceroy, said, 'Did I not tell you a woman picked up is never good for anything?' [179] But the king was grieved, for he had loved the queen dearly, and he took a pilgrim's dress and went to Galizia, to the shrine of S. Giacomo, to pray that she might be forgiven. Then the viceroy, he too was seized with compunction, and, unknown to the king, he too became a pilgrim, and went to do penance at the same shrine.

Thus it happened that they all met together, without knowing each other, in the hospice that that husband and wife had built at Galizia; and when they had paid their devotions at the shrine, and all sat together in the hospice in the evening, all told some tale of what he had seen and what he had heard. But there sat one who told nothing. Then said the king to this one, 'And you, good man, why do you tell no story?' for he knew not that it was the queen, nor that it was even a woman.

Thus appealed to, however, she rose and told a tale of how there had been a husband and wife who had made a vow that if they had children, they would go a pilgrimage to S. Giacomo di Galizia; 'and,' said she, 'they were just two people such as you might be,' and she pointed to the two who were founders of the hospice. And that when they were absent, and left their daughter behind, the parish priest calumniated her, so that her brother came back and stabbed her, and threw her body in a ditch. 'And he was just such a young man, strong and ardent, as you may have been,' and she pointed to the son of the founders. 'But that maiden was not dead,' she went on, 'and a king found her, and married her, and she had two children, and lived happily with him till he went to the wars, then the viceroy calumniated her till she ran away out of the palace; and the viceroy was just such a one, strong and dark, as you may be,' and she pointed to the viceroy, who sat trembling in a corner; 'and when the king came back, he told him evil of her; but that king was noble and pious as you may be,' and she pointed to the king, 'and in his heart he believed no evil of his wife, but went to S. Giacomo di Galizia to pray that the truth might be made plain.'

As she spoke, one after another they all arose, and said, 'How comes this peasant to know all the story of my life; and who has sent him to declare it here!' and they were all strangely moved, and called upon the peasant to tell them who had shown him these things. But the supposed peasant answered, 'My old grandfather, as we sat on the hearth together.' [180] 'That cannot be,' said they, 'for to every one of us you have told his own life; and now you must tell us more, for we will not rest till we have righted her who has thus suffered.' When she found them so earnest and so determined to do right, she said further, 'That queen am I!' and she took off her hood, and they knew her, and all fell round and embraced her. Then said the king, 'And on this viceroy, on whose account you have suffered so sadly, what vengeance will you have on him?' But she said, 'I will have no vengeance; but now that he has come to the shrine of Galizia, God will forgive him; and may he find peace!'

Thus all were restored and united; and when she had embraced her parents and her brother, and spent some days with them, she went home with her husband and reigned in his kingdom.

[The story seemed to be ended, and I hoped it was, for the way in which the children were left seemed a poetic way of describing their death; but to make sure, I said, 'And the children, they remained with the Madonna?'

'No, no! I forgot. It's well you reminded me. No; by their way home they went back to the mountain, and they found their children well cared for by that "Majestic Lady," and playing with her Bambino; she gave the children back, and blessed them, and then went up to heaven; and they built a chapel in the place where she had been.']

SANTA VERDANA.

There was a man with a general shop who had an excellent girl for a servant, and she was so honest as well as diligent that he left her to attend to the shop besides doing the work. All he gave her to do she did well, and his business flourished without his having any trouble about it.

But some envious people came to him and said that the girl had given away all his substance, and there was nothing left; so he watched, and he saw it was indeed so. To every poor person who came she gave whatever they asked for the love of God, and all the stores and presses were empty. Yet, as there seemed no lack of anything either, and when customers came she always continued to supply them, he hesitated to interfere.

So it might have gone on, only people went on whispering doubts. And one said one day, 'Suppose she should die, where would you be then?' That is true, he thought to himself, and upon that he went and asked her where all the things were gone. She never made any reply, but knelt down and prayed, and as she prayed all the presses and stores became full again with all kinds of merchandise as at the first. But she went away from him after that, and built herself a cell, walled up all round, next to the church of St. Anthony, where she lived in continual prayer, and she took a brick out of the wall to make a hole through which she heard mass. At last one day came when they saw her no more at the hole hearing mass, and they opened her cell and found her lying on the floor with her hands crossed on her breast, and the cell was filled with a beautiful perfume, for she had been sanctified there, and her soul had gone thence to God.

SAN SIDORO.

[This seems very like another version of the foregoing.]

St. Isidor was the steward of a rich man, and as he was filled with holy piety and compassion, he could never turn away from any that begged of him, but gave to all liberally; to one Indian corn meal, to another beans, to another lentils.

At last men with envious tongues came to his master and said: 'This steward of yours of whom you think so much is wasting all your substance, and he has given away so much to the poor that there can be nothing left in any of your barns and storehouses; you had better look to it.' The master, after hearing this, came down to St. Isidor very angry, and bade him bring the keys and open all the barns and storehouses. St. Isidor did as he was bid without an angry word, and behold they were all so full of grain and beans, and every species of good gift of God, that you could not go into them, they were full to the very doors. After that the master let him give away as much as he would.