Chapter VI: Legends (1)

I

_About Saints._

As besides the songs or _pyesni_ there are current among the people a number of _stikhi_ or poems on sacred subjects, so together with the _skazki_ there have been retained in the popular memory a multitude of _legendui_, or legends relating to persons or incidents mentioned in the Bible or in ecclesiastical history. Many of them have been extracted from the various apocryphal books which in olden times had so wide a circulation, and many also from the lives of the Saints; some of them may be traced to such adaptations of Indian legends as the "Varlaam and Josaphat" attributed to St. John of Damascus; and others appear to be ancient heathen traditions, which, with altered names and slightly modified incidents, have been made to do service as Christian narratives. But whatever may be their origin, they all bear witness to the fact of their having been exposed to various influences, and many of them may fairly be considered as relics of hoar antiquity, memorials of that misty period when the pious Slavonian chronicler struck by the confusion of Christian with heathen ideas and ceremonies then prevalent, styled his countrymen a two-faithed people.[424]

On the popular tales of a religious character current among the Russian peasantry, the duality of their creed, or of that of their ancestors, has produced a twofold effect. On the one hand, into narratives drawn from purely Christian sources there has entered a pagan element, most clearly perceptible in stories which deal with demons and departed spirits; on the other hand, an attempt has been made to give a Christian nature to what are manifestly heathen legends, by lending saintly names to their characters and clothing their ideas in an imitation of biblical language. Of such stories as these, it will be as well to give a few specimens.

Among the legends borrowed from the apocryphal books and similar writings, many of which are said to be still carefully preserved among the "Schismatics," concealed in hiding-places of which the secret is handed down from father to son--as was once the case with the Hussite books among the Bohemians--there are many which relate to the creation of the world and the early history of man. One of these states that when the Lord had created Adam and Eve, he stationed at the gates of Paradise the dog, then a clean beast, giving it strict orders not to give admittance to the Evil One. But "the Evil One came to the gates of Paradise, and threw the dog a piece of bread, and the dog went and let the Evil One into Paradise. Then the Evil One set to work and spat over Adam and Eve--covered them all over with spittle, from the head to the little toe of the left foot." Thence is it that spittle is impure (_pogana_). So Adam and Eve were turned out of Paradise, and the Lord said to the dog:

"Listen, O Dog! thou wert a Dog (_Sobaka_), a clean beast; through all Paradise the most holy didst thou roam. Henceforward shalt thou be a Hound (_Pes_, or _Pyos_), an unclean beast. Into a dwelling it shall be a sin to admit thee; into a church if thou dost run, the church must be consecrated anew."

And so--the story concludes--"ever since that time it has been called not a dog but a hound--skin-deep it is unclean (_pogana_), but clean within."

According to another story, when men first inhabited the earth, they did not know how to build houses, so as to keep themselves warm in winter. But instead of asking aid from the Lord, they applied to the Devil, who taught them how to make an _izba_ or ordinary Russian cottage. Following his instructions, they made wooden houses, each of which had a door but no window. Inside these huts it was warm; but there was no living in them, on account of the darkness. "So the people went back to the Evil One. The Evil one strove and strove, but nothing came of it, the izba still remained pitch dark. Then the people prayed unto the Lord. And the Lord said: 'Hew out a window!' So they hewed out windows, and it became light."[425]

Some of the Russian traditions about the creation of man are closely connected with Teutonic myths. The Schismatics called _Dukhobortsui_, or Spirit-Wrestlers, for instance, hold that man was composed of earthly materials, but that God breathed into his body the breath of life. "His flesh was made of earth, his bones of stone, his veins of roots, his blood of water, his hair of grass, his thought of the wind, his spirit of the cloud."[426] Many of the Russian stories about the early ages of the world, also, are current in Western Europe, such as that about the rye--which in olden days was a mass of ears from top to bottom. But some lazy harvest-women having cursed "God's corn," the Lord waxed wroth and began to strip the ears from the stem. But when the last ear was about to fall, the Lord had pity upon the penitent culprits, and allowed the single ear to remain as we now see it.[427]

A Little-Russian variant of this story says that Ilya (Elijah), was so angry at seeing the base uses to which a woman turned "God's corn," that he began to destroy all the corn in the world. But a dog begged for, and received a few ears. From these, after Ilya's wrath was spent, mankind obtained seed, and corn began to grow again on the face of the earth, but not in its pristine bulk and beauty. It is on account of the good service thus rendered to our race that we ought to cherish and feed the dog.[428]

Another story, from the Archangel Government, tells how a certain King, as he roamed afield with his princes and boyars, found a grain of corn as large as a sparrow's egg. Marvelling greatly at its size, he tried in vain to obtain from his followers some explanation thereof. Then they bethought them of "a certain man from among the old people, who might be able to tell them something about it." But when the old man came, "scarcely able to crawl along on a pair of crutches," he said he knew nothing about it, but perhaps his father might remember something. So they sent for his father, who came limping along with the help of one crutch, and who said:

"I have a father living, in whose granary I have seen just such a seed."

So they sent for his father, a man a hundred and seventy years old. And the patriarch came, walking nimbly needing neither guide nor crutch. Then the King began to question him, saying:

"Who sowed this sort of corn?"

"I sowed it, and reaped it," answered the old man, "and now I have some of it in my granary. I keep it as a memorial. When I was young, the grain was large and plentiful, but after a time it began to grow smaller and smaller."

"Now tell me," asked the King, "how comes it, old man, that thou goest more nimbly than thy son and thy grandson?"

"Because I lived according to the law of the Lord," answered the old man. "I held mine own, I grasped not at what was another's."[429]

The existence of hills is accounted for by legendary lore in this wise. When the Lord was about to fashion the face of the earth, he ordered the Devil to dive into the watery depths and bring thence a handful of the soil he found at the bottom. The Devil obeyed, but when he filled his hand, he filled his mouth also. The Lord took the soil, sprinkled it around, and the Earth appeared, all perfectly flat. The Devil, whose mouth was quite full, looked on for some time in silence. At last he tried to speak, but choked, and fled in terror. After him followed the thunder and the lightning, and so he rushed over the whole face of the earth, hills springing up where he coughed, and sky-cleaving mountains where he leaped.[430]

As in other countries, a number of legends are current respecting various animals. Thus the Old Ritualists will not eat the crayfish (_rak_), holding that it was created by the Devil. On the other hand the snake (_uzh_, the harmless or common snake) is highly esteemed, for tradition says that when the Devil, in the form of a mouse, had gnawed a hole in the Ark, and thereby endangered the safety of Noah and his family, the snake stopped up the leak with its head.[431] The flesh of the horse is considered unclean, because when the infant Saviour was hidden in the manger the horse kept eating the hay under which the babe was concealed, whereas the ox not only would not touch it, but brought back hay on its horns to replace what the horse had eaten. According to an old Lithuanian tradition, the shape of the sole is due to the fact that the Queen of the Baltic Sea once ate one half of it and threw the other half into the sea again. A legend from the Kherson Government accounts for it as follows. At the time of the Angelical Salutation, the Blessed Virgin told the Archangel Gabriel that she would give credit to his words "if a fish, one side of which had already been eaten, were to come to life again. That very moment the fish came to life, and was put back in the water."

With the birds many graceful legends are connected. There is a bird, probably the peewit, which during dry weather may be seen always on the wing, and piteously crying _Peet, Peet_,[432] as if begging for water. Of it the following tale is told. When God created the earth, and determined to supply it with seas, lakes and rivers, he ordered the birds to convey the waters to their appointed places. They all obeyed except this bird, which refused to fulfil its duty, saying that it had no need of seas, lakes or rivers, to slake its thirst. Then the Lord waxed wroth and forbade it and its posterity ever to approach a sea or stream, allowing it to quench its thirst with that water only which remains in hollows and among stones after rain. From that time it has never ceased its wailing cry of "Drink, Drink," _Peet, Peet_.[433]

When the Jews were seeking for Christ in the garden, says a Kharkof legend, all the birds, except the sparrow, tried to draw them away from his hiding-place. Only the sparrow attracted them thither by its shrill chirruping. Then the Lord cursed the sparrow, and forbade that men should eat of its flesh. In other parts of Russia, tradition tells that before the crucifixion the swallows carried off the nails provided for the use of the executioners, but the sparrows brought them back. And while our Lord was hanging on the cross the sparrows were maliciously exclaiming _Jif! Jif!_ or "He is living! He is living!" in order to urge on the tormentors to fresh cruelties. But the swallows cried, with opposite intent, _Umer! Umer!_ "He is dead! He is dead." Therefore it is that to kill a swallow is a sin, and that its nest brings good luck to a house. But the sparrow is an unwelcome guest, whose entry into a cottage is a presage of woe. As a punishment for its sins, its legs have been fastened together by invisible bonds, and therefore it always hops, not being able to run.[434]

A great number of the Russian legends refer to the visits which Christ and his Apostles are supposed to pay to men's houses at various times, but especially during the period between Easter Sunday and Ascension Day. In the guise of indigent wayfarers, the sacred visitors enter into farm-houses and cottages and ask for food and lodging; therefore to this day the Russian peasant is ever unwilling to refuse hospitality to any man, fearing lest he might repulse angels unawares. Tales of this kind are common in all Christian lands, especially in those in which their folk-lore has preserved some traces of the old faith in the heathen gods who once walked the earth, and in patriarchal fashion dispensed justice among men. Many of the Russian stories closely resemble those of a similar nature which occur in German and Scandinavian collections; all of them, for instance, agreeing in the unfavorable light in which they place St. Peter. The following abridgment of the legend of "The Poor Widow,"[435] may be taken as a specimen of the Russian tales of this class.

Long, long ago, Christ and his twelve Apostles were wandering about the world, and they entered into a village one evening, and asked a rich moujik to allow them to spend the night in his house. But he would not admit them, crying:

"Yonder lives a widow who takes in beggars; go to her."

So they went to the widow, and asked her. Now she was so poor that she had nothing in the house but a crust of bread and a handful of flour. She had a cow, but it had not calved yet, and gave no milk. But she did all she could for the wayfarers, setting before them all the food she had, and letting them sleep beneath her roof. And her store of bread and flour was wonderfully increased, so that her guests fed and were satisfied. And the next morning they set out anew on their journey.

As they went along the road there met them a wolf. And it fell down before the Lord, and begged for food. Then said the Lord, "Go to the poor widow's; slay her cow, and eat."

The Apostles remonstrated in vain. The wolf set off, entered the widow's cow-house, and killed her cow. And when she heard what had taken place, she only said:

"The Lord gave, the Lord has taken away. Holy is His will!"

As the sacred wayfarers pursued their journey, there came rolling towards them a barrel full of money. Then the Lord addressed it, saying:

"Roll, O barrel, into the farmyard of the rich moujik!"

Again the Apostles vainly remonstrated. The barrel went its way, and the rich moujik found it, and stowed it away, grumbling the while:

"The Lord might as well have sent twice as much!"

The sun rose higher, and the Apostles began to thirst. Then said the Lord:

"Follow that road, and ye will find a well; there drink your fill."

They went along that road and found the well. But they could not drink thereat, for its water was foul and impure, and swarming with snakes and frogs and toads. So they returned to where the Lord awaited them, described what they had seen, and resumed their journey. After a time they were sent in search of another well. And this time they found a place wherein was water pure and cool, and around grew wondrous trees, whereon heavenly birds sat singing. And when they had slaked their thirst, they returned unto the Lord, who said:

"Wherefore did ye tarry so long?"

"We only stayed while we were drinking," replied the Apostles. "We did not spend above three minutes there in all."

"Not three minutes did ye spend there, but three whole years," replied the Lord. "As it was in the first well, so will it be in the other world with the rich moujik! But as it was in the second well, so will it be in that world with the poor widow!"

Sometimes our Lord is supposed to wander by himself, under the guise of a beggar. In the story of "Christ's Brother"[436] a young man--whose father, on his deathbed, had charged him not to forget the poor--goes to church on Easter Day, having provided himself with red eggs to give to the beggars with whom he should exchange the Pascal greeting. After exhausting his stock of presents, he finds that there remains one beggar of miserable appearance to whom he has nothing to offer, so he takes him home to dinner. After the meal the beggar exchanges crosses with his host,[437] giving him "a cross which blazes like fire," and invites him to pay him a visit on the following Tuesday. To an enquiry about the way, he replies, "You have only to go along yonder path and say, 'Grant thy blessing, O Lord!' and you will come to where I am."

The young man does as he is told, and commences his journey on the Tuesday. On his way he hears voices, as though of children, crying, "O Christ's brother, ask Christ for us--have we to suffer long?" A little later he sees a group of girls who are ladling water from one well into another, who make the same request. At last he arrives at the end of his journey, finds the aged mendicant who had adopted him as his brother, and recognizes him as "the Lord Jesus Christ Himself." The youth relates what he has seen, and asks:

"Wherefore, O Lord, are the children suffering?"

"Their mothers cursed them while still unborn," is the reply. "Therefore is it impossible for them to enter into Paradise."

"And the girls?"

"They used to sell milk, and they put water into the milk. Now they are doomed to pour water from well to well eternally."

After this the youth is taken into Paradise, and brought to the place there provided for him.[438]

Sometimes the sacred visitor rewards with temporal goods the kindly host who has hospitably received him. Thus the story of "Beer and Corn"[439] tells how a certain man was so poor that when the rest of the peasants were brewing beer, and making other preparations to celebrate an approaching feast of the Church, he found his cupboard perfectly bare. In vain did he apply to a rich neighbor, who was in the habit of lending goods and money at usurious rates; having no security to offer, he could borrow nothing. But on the eve of the festival, when he was sitting at home in sadness, he suddenly rose and drew near to the sacred painting which hung in the corner, and sighed heavily, and said,

"O Lord! forgive me, sinner that I am! I have not even wherewith to buy oil, so as to light the lamp before the image[440] for the festival!"

Soon afterwards an old man entered the cottage, and obtained leave to spend the night there. After a time the guest enquired why his host was so sad, and on learning the reason, told him to go again to his rich neighbor and borrow a quarter of malt. The moujik obeyed, and soon returned with the malt, which the old man ordered him to throw into his well. When this was done the villager and his guest went to bed.

Next morning the old man told his guest to borrow a number of tubs, and fill them with liquor drawn from the well, and then to make his neighbors assemble and drink it. He did so, and the buckets were filled with "such beer as neither fancy nor imagination can conceive, but only a skazka can describe." The villagers, excited by the news, collected in crowds, and drank the beer and rejoiced. Last of all came the rich neighbor, begging to know how such wonderful beer was brewed. The moujik told him the whole story, whereupon he straightway commanded his servants to pour all his best malt into his well. And next day he hastened to the well to taste the liquor it contained; but he found nothing but malt and water; not a drop of beer was there.

We may take next the legends current among the peasantry about various saints. Of these, the story of "The Prophet Elijah and St. Nicholas," will serve as a good specimen. But, in order to render it intelligible, a few words about "Ilya the Prophet," as Elijah is styled in Russia, may as well be prefixed.

It is well known that in the days of heathenism the Slavonians worshipped a thunder-god, Perun,[441] who occupied in their mythological system the place which in the Teutonic was assigned to a Donar or a Thor. He was believed, if traditions may be relied upon, to sway the elements, often driving across the sky in a flaming car, and launching the shafts of the lightning at his demon foes. His name is still preserved by the western and southern Slavonians in many local phrases, especially in imprecations; but, with the introduction of Christianity into Slavonic lands, all this worship of his divinity came to an end. Then took place, as had occurred before in other countries, the merging of numerous portions of the old faith in the new, the transferring of many of the attributes of the old gods to the sacred personages of the new religion.[442] During this period of transition the ideas which were formerly associated with the person of Perun, the thunder-god, became attached to that of the Prophet Ilya or Elijah.

One of the causes which conduced to this result may have been--if Perun really was considered in old times, as he is said to have been, the Lord of the Harvest--that the day consecrated by the Church to Elijah, July 20, occurs in the beginning of the harvest season, and therefore the peasants naturally connected their new saint with their old deity. But with more certainty may it be accepted that, the leading cause was the similarity which appeared to the recent converts to prevail between their dethroned thunder-god and the prophet who was connected with drought and with rain, whose enemies were consumed by fire from on high, and on whom waited "a chariot of fire and horses of fire," when he was caught up by a whirlwind into heaven. And so at the present day, according to Russian tradition, the Prophet Ilya thunders across the sky in a flaming car, and smites the clouds with the darts of the lightning. In the Vladimir Government he is said "to destroy devils with stone arrows,"--weapons corresponding to the hammer of Thor and the lance of Indra. On his day the peasants everywhere expect thunder and rain, and in some places they set out rye and oats on their gates, and ask their clergy to laud the name of Ilya, that he may bless their cornfields with plenteousness. There are districts, also, in which the people go to church in a body on Ilya's day, and after the service is over they kill and roast a beast which has been purchased at the expense of the community. Its flesh is cut up into small pieces and sold, the money paid for it going to the church. To stay away from this ceremony, or not to purchase a piece of the meat, would be considered a great sin; to mow or make hay on that day would be to incur a terrible risk, for Ilya might smite the field with the thunder, or burn up the crop with the lightning. In the old Novgorod there used to be two churches, the one dedicated to "Ilya the Wet," the other to "Ilya the Dry." To these a cross-bearing procession was made when a change in the weather was desired: to the former in times of drought, to the latter when injury was being done to the crops by rain. Diseases being considered to be evil spirits, invalids used to pray to the thunder-god for relief. And so, at the present day, a _zagovor_ or spell against the Siberian cattle-plague entreats the "Holy Prophet of God Ilya," to send "thirty angels in golden array, with bows and with arrows" to destroy it. The Servians say that at the division of the world Ilya received the thunder and lightning as his share, and that the crash and blaze of the storm are signs of his contest with the devil. Wherefore the faithful ought not to cross themselves when the thunder peals, lest the evil one should take refuge from the heavenly weapons behind the protecting cross. The Bulgarians say that forked lightning is the lance of Ilya who is chasing the Lamia fiend: summer lightning is due to the sheen of that lance, or to the fire issuing from the nostrils of his celestial steeds. The white clouds of summer are named by them his heavenly sheep, and they say that he compels the spirits of dead Gypsies to form pellets of snow--by men styled hail--with which he scourges in summer the fields of sinners.[443]

Such are a few of the ideas connected by Slavonian tradition with the person of the Prophet Elijah or Ilya. To St. Nicholas, who has succeeded to the place occupied by an ancient ruler of the waters, a milder character is attributed than to Ilya, the thunder-god's successor. As Ilya is the counterpart of Thor, so does Nicholas in some respects resemble Odin. The special characteristics of the Saint and the Prophet are fairly contrasted in the following story.

ELIJAH THE PROPHET AND NICHOLAS.[444]

A long while ago there lived a Moujik. Nicholas's day he
always kept holy, but Elijah's not a bit; he would even work
upon it. In honor of St. Nicholas he would have a taper lighted
and a service performed, but about Elijah the Prophet he
forgot so much as to think.

Well, it happened one day that Elijah and Nicholas were
walking over the land belonging to this Moujik; and as they
walked they looked--in the cornfields the green blades were
growing up so splendidly that it did one's heart good to look at
them.

"Here'll be a good harvest, a right good harvest!" says
Nicholas, "and the Moujik, too, is a good fellow sure enough,
both honest and pious: one who remembers God and thinks
about the Saints! It will fall into good hands--"

"We'll see by-and-by whether much will fall to his share!"
answered Elijah; "when I've burnt up all his land with lightning,
and beaten it all flat with hail, then this Moujik of yours will
know what's right, and will learn to keep Elijah's day holy."

Well, they wrangled and wrangled; then they parted asunder.
St. Nicholas went off straight to the Moujik and said:

"Sell all your corn at once, just as it stands, to the Priest
of Elijah.[445] If you don't, nothing will be left of it: it will all be
beaten flat by hail."

Off rushed the Moujik to the Priest.

"Won't your Reverence buy some standing corn? I'll sell
my whole crop. I'm in such pressing need of money just now.
It's a case of pay up with me! Buy it, Father! I'll sell it
cheap."

They bargained and bargained, and came to an agreement.
The Moujik got his money and went home.

Some little time passed by. There gathered together, there
came rolling up, a stormcloud; with a terrible raining and hailing
did it empty itself over the Moujik's cornfields, cutting
down all the crop as if with a knife--not even a single blade did
it leave standing.

Next day Elijah and Nicholas walked past. Says Elijah:

"Only see how I've devastated the Moujik's cornfield!"

"The Moujik's! No, brother! Devastated it you have
splendidly, only that field belongs to the Elijah Priest, not to
the Moujik."

"To the Priest! How's that?"

"Why, this way. The Moujik sold it last week to the
Elijah Priest, and got all the money for it. And so, methinks,
the Priest may whistle for his money!"

"Stop a bit!" said Elijah. "I'll set the field all right again.
It shall be twice as good as it was before."

They finished talking, and went each his own way. St.
Nicholas returned to the Moujik, and said:

"Go to the Priest and buy back your crop--you won't lose
anything by it."

The Moujik went to the Priest, made his bow, and said:

"I see, your Reverence, God has sent you a misfortune--the
hail has beaten the whole field so flat you might roll a ball
over it. Since things are so, let's go halves in the loss. I'll
take my field back, and here's half of your money for you to
relieve your distress."

The Priest was rejoiced, and they immediately struck hands
on the bargain.

Meanwhile--goodness knows how--the Moujik's ground
began to get all right. From the old roots shot forth new tender
stems. Rain-clouds came sailing exactly over the cornfield
and gave the soil to drink. There sprang up a marvellous crop--tall
and thick. As to weeds, there positively was not one to be
seen. And the ears grew fuller and fuller, till they were fairly
bent right down to the ground.

Then the dear sun glowed, and the rye grew ripe--like so
much gold did it stand in the fields. Many a sheaf did the
Moujik gather, many a heap of sheaves did he set up; and now
he was beginning to carry the crop, and to gather it together into
ricks.

At that very time Elijah and Nicholas came walking by
again. Joyfully did the Prophet gaze on all the land, and say:

"Only look, Nicholas! what a blessing! Why, I have rewarded
the Priest in such wise, that he will never forget it all
his life."

"The Priest? No, brother! the blessing indeed is great,
but this land, you see, belongs to the Moujik. The Priest
hasn't got anything whatsoever to do with it."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's perfectly true. When the hail beat all the cornfield
flat, the Moujik went to the Priest and bought it back again at
half price."

"Stop a bit!" says Elijah. "I'll take the profit out of the
corn. However many sheaves the Moujik may lay on the
threshing-floor, he shall never thresh out of them more than a
peck[446] at a time."

"A bad piece of work!" thinks St. Nicholas. Off he went
at once to the Moujik.

"Mind," says he, "when you begin threshing your corn,
never put more than one sheaf at a time on the threshing-floor."

The Moujik began to thresh: from every sheaf he got a peck
of grain. All his bins, all his storehouses, he crammed with
rye; but still much remained over. So he built himself new
barns, and filled them as full as they could hold.

Well, one day Elijah and Nicholas came walking past his
homestead, and the Prophet began looking here and there, and
said:

"Do you see what barns he's built? has he got anything to
put into them?"

"They're quite full already," answers Nicholas.

"Why, wherever did the Moujik get such a lot of grain?"

"Bless me! Why, every one of his sheaves gave him a
peck of grain. When he began to thresh he never put more
than one sheaf at a time on the threshing-floor."

"Ah, brother Nicholas!" said Elijah, guessing the truth,
"it's you who go and tell the Moujik everything!"

"What an idea! that I should go and tell--"

"As you please; that's your doing! But that Moujik sha'n't
forget me in a hurry!"

"Why, what are you going to do to him?"

"What I shall do, that I won't tell you," replies Elijah.

"There's a great danger coming," thinks St. Nicholas, and
he goes to the Moujik again, and says:

"Buy two tapers, a big one and a little one, and do thus
and thus with them."

Well, next day the Prophet Elijah and St. Nicholas were
walking along together in the guise of wayfarers, and they met
the Moujik, who was carrying two wax tapers--one, a big
rouble one, and the other, a tiny copeck one.

"Where are you going, Moujik?" asked St. Nicholas.

"Well, I'm going to offer a rouble taper to Prophet Elijah;
he's been ever so good to me! When my crops were ruined
by the hail, he bestirred himself like anything, and gave me
a plentiful harvest, twice as good as the other would have
been."

"And the copeck taper, what's that for?"

"Why, that's for Nicholas!" said the peasant and passed
on.

"There now, Elijah!" says Nicholas, "you say I go and
tell everything to the Moujik--surely you can see for yourself
how much truth there is in that!"

Thereupon the matter ended. Elijah was appeased and
didn't threaten to hurt the Moujik any more. And the Moujik
led a prosperous life, and from that time forward he held in
equal honor Elijah's Day and Nicholas's Day.

It is not always to the Prophet Ilya that the power once attributed to Perun is now ascribed. The pagan wielder of the thunderbolt is represented in modern traditions by more than one Christian saint. Sometimes, as St. George, he transfixes monsters with his lance; sometimes, as St. Andrew, he smites with his mace a spot given over to witchcraft. There was a village (says one of the legends of the Chernigof Government) in which lived more than a thousand witches, and they used to steal the holy stars, until at last "there was not one left to light our sinful world." Then God sent the holy Andrew, who struck with his mace--and all that village was swallowed up by the earth, and the place thereof became a swamp.[447]

About St. George many stories are told, and still more ballads (if we may be allowed to call them so) are sung. Under the names of Georgy, Yury, and Yegory the Brave, he is celebrated as a patron as well of wolves as of flocks and herds, as a Christian Confessor struggling and suffering for the faith amid pagan foes, and as a chivalrous destroyer of snakes and dragons. The discrepancies which exist between the various representations given of his character and his functions are very glaring, but they may be explained by the fact that a number of legendary ideas sprung from separate sources have become associated with his name; so that in one story his actions are in keeping with the character of an old Slavonian deity, in another, with that of a Christian or a Buddhist saint.

In some parts of Russia, when the cattle go out for the first time to the spring pastures, a pie, made in the form of a sheep, is cut up by the chief herdsman, and the fragments are preserved as a remedy against the diseases to which sheep are liable. On St. George's Day in spring, April 23, the fields are sanctified by a church service, at the end of which they are sprinkled with holy water. In the Tula Government a similar service is held over the wells. On the same day, in some parts of Russia, a youth (who is called by the Slovenes the Green Yegory) is dressed like our own "Jack in the Green," with foliage and flowers. Holding a lighted torch in one hand and a pie in the other, he goes out to the cornfields, followed by girls singing appropriate songs. A circle of brushwood is then lighted, in the centre of which is set the pie. All who take part in the ceremony then sit down around the fire, and eventually the pie is divided among them.

Numerous legends speak of the strange connection which exists between St. George and the Wolf. In Little Russia that animal is called "St. George's Dog," and the carcases of sheep which wolves have killed are not used for human food, it being held that they have been assigned by divine command to the beasts of the field. The human victim whom St. George has doomed to be thus destroyed nothing can save. A man, to whom such a fate had been allotted, tried to escape from his assailants by hiding behind a stove; but a wolf transformed itself into a cat, and at midnight, when all was still, it stole into the house and seized the appointed prey. A hunter, who had been similarly doomed, went on killing wolves for some time, and hanging up their skins; but when the fatal hour arrived, one of the skins became a wolf, and slew him by whom it had before been slain. In Little Russia the wolves have their own herdsman[448]--a being like unto a man, who is often seen in company with St. George. There were two brothers (says a popular tale), the one rich, the other poor. The poor brother had climbed up a tree one night, and suddenly he saw beneath him what seemed to be two men--the one driving a pack of wolves, the other attending to the conveyance of a quantity of bread. These two beings were St. George and the Lisun. And St. George distributed the bread among the wolves, and one loaf which remained over he gave to the poor brother; who afterwards found that it was of a miraculous nature, always renewing itself and so supplying its owner with an inexhaustible store of bread. The rich brother, hearing the story, climbed up the tree one night in hopes of obtaining a similar present. But that night St. George found that he had no bread to give to one of his wolves, so he gave it the rich brother instead.[449]

One of the legends attributes strange forgetfulness on one occasion to St. George. A certain Gypsy who had a wife and seven children, and nothing to feed them with, was standing by a roadside lost in reflection, when Yegory the Brave came riding by. Hearing that the saint was on his way to heaven, the Gypsy besought him to ask of God how he was to support his family. St. George promised to do so, but forgot. Again the Gypsy saw him riding past, and again the saint promised and forgot. In a third interview the Gypsy asked him to leave behind his golden stirrup as a pledge.

A third time St. George leaves the presence of the Lord without remembering the commission with which he has been entrusted. But when he is about to mount his charger the sight of the solitary stirrup recalls it to his mind. So he returns and states the Gypsy's request, and obtains the reply that "the Gypsy's business is to cheat and to swear falsely." As soon as the Gypsy is told this, he thanks the Saint and goes off home.

"Where are you going?" cries Yegory. "Give me back my golden stirrup."

"What stirrup?" asks the Gypsy.

"Why, the one you took from me."

"When did I take one from you? I see you now for the first time in my life, and never a stirrup did I ever take, so help me Heaven!"

So Yegory had to go away without getting his stirrup back.[450]

There is an interesting Bulgarian legend in which St. George appears in his Christian capacity of dragon-slayer, but surrounded by personages belonging to heathen mythology. The inhabitants of the pagan city of Troyan, it states, "did not believe in Christ, but in gold and silver." Now there were seventy conduits in that city which supplied it with spring-water; and the Lord made these conduits run with liquid gold and silver instead of water, so that all the people had as much as they pleased of the metals they worshipped, but they had nothing to drink.

After a time the Lord took pity upon them, and there appeared at a little distance from the city a deep lake. To this they used to go for water. Only the lake was guarded by a terrible monster, which daily devoured a maiden, whom the inhabitants of Troyan were obliged to give to it in return for leave to make use of the lake. This went on for three years, at the end of which time it fell to the lot of the king's daughter to be sacrificed by the monster. But when the Troyan Andromeda was exposed on the shore of the lake, a Perseus arrived to save her in the form of St. George. While waiting for the monster to appear, the saint laid his head on her knees, and she dressed his locks. Then he fell into so deep a slumber that the monster drew nigh without awaking him. But the Princess began to weep bitterly, and her scalding tears fell on the face of St. George and awoke him, and he slew the monster, and afterwards converted all the inhabitants of Troyan to Christianity.[451]

St. Nicholas generally maintains in the legends the kindly character attributed to him in the story in which he and the Prophet Ilya are introduced together. It is to him that at the present day the anxious peasant turns most readily for help, and it is he whom the legends represent as being the most prompt of all the heavenly host to assist the unfortunate among mankind. Thus in one of the stories a peasant is driving along a heavy road one autumn day, when his cart sticks fast in the mire. Just then St. Kasian comes by.

"Help me, brother, to get my cart out of the mud!" says the peasant.

"Get along with you!" replies St. Kasian. "Do you suppose I've got leisure to be dawdling here with you!"

Presently St. Nicholas comes that way. The peasant addresses the same request to him, and he stops and gives the required assistance.

When the two saints arrive in heaven, the Lord asks them where they have been.

"I have been on the earth," replies St. Kasian. "And I happened to pass by a moujik whose cart had stuck in the mud. He cried out to me, saying, 'Help me to get my cart out!' But I was not going to spoil my heavenly apparel."

"I have been on the earth," says St. Nicholas, whose clothes were all covered with mud. "I went along that same road, and I helped the moujik to get his cart free."

Then the Lord says, "Listen, Kasian! Because thou didst not assist the moujik, therefore shall men honor thee by thanksgiving once only every four years. But to thee, Nicholas, because thou didst assist the moujik to set free his cart, shall men twice every year offer up thanksgiving."

"Ever since that time," says the story, "it has been customary to offer prayers and thanksgiving (_molebnui_) to Nicholas twice a year, but to Kasian only once every leap-year."[452]

In another story St. Nicholas comes to the aid of an adventurer who watches beside the coffin of a bewitched princess. There were two moujiks in a certain village, we are told, one of whom was very rich and the other very poor. One day the poor man, who was in great distress, went to the house of the rich man and begged for a loan.

"I will repay it, on my word. Here is Nicholas as a surety," he cried, pointing to a picture of St. Nicholas.

Thereupon the rich man lent him twenty roubles. The day for repayment came, but the poor man had not a single copeck. Furious at his loss, the rich man rushed to the picture of St. Nicholas, crying--

"Why don't you pay up for that pauper? You stood surety for him, didn't you?"

And as the picture made no reply, he tore it down from the wall, set it on a cart and drove it away, flogging it as he went, and crying--

"Pay me my money! Pay me my money!"

As he drove past the inn a young merchant saw him, and cried--

"What are you doing, you infidel!"

The moujik explained that as he could not get his money back from a man who was in his debt, he was proceeding against a surety; whereupon the merchant paid the debt, and thereby ransomed the picture, which he hung up in a place of honor, and kept a lamp burning before it. Soon afterwards an old man offered his services to the merchant, who appointed him his manager; and from that time all things went well with the merchant.

But after a while a misfortune befell the land in which he lived, for "an evil witch enchanted the king's daughter, who lay dead all day long, but at night got up and ate people." So she was shut up in a coffin and placed in a church, and her hand, with half the kingdom as her dowry, was offered to any one who could disenchant her. The merchant, in accordance with his old manager's instructions, undertook the task, and after a series of adventures succeeded in accomplishing it. The last words of one of the narrators of the story are, "Now this old one was no mere man. He was Nicholas himself, the saint of God."[453]

With one more legend about this favorite saint, I will conclude this section of the present chapter. In some of its incidents it closely resembles the story of "The Smith and the Demon," which was quoted in the first chapter.

THE PRIEST WITH THE GREEDY EYES.[454]

In the parish of St. Nicholas there lived a Pope. This
Pope's eyes were thoroughly pope-like.[455] He served Nicholas
several years, and went on serving until such time as there
remained to him nothing either for board or lodging. Then our
Pope collected all the church keys, looked at the picture of
Nicholas, thumped him, out of spite, over the shoulders with
the keys, and went forth from his parish as his eyes led him.
And as he walked along the road he suddenly lighted upon an
unknown man.

"Hail, good man!" said the stranger to the Pope. "Whence
do you come and whither are you going? Take me with you
as a companion."

Well, they went on together. They walked and walked for
several versts, then they grew tired. It was time to seek repose.
Now the Pope had a few biscuits in his cassock, and the companion
he had picked up had a couple of small loaves.[456]

"Let's eat your loaves first," says the Pope, "and afterwards
we'll take to the biscuits, too."

"Agreed!" replies the stranger. "We'll eat my loaves,
and keep your biscuits for afterwards."

Well, they ate away at the loaves; each of them ate his fill,
but the loaves got no smaller. The Pope grew envious:
"Come," thinks he, "I'll steal them from him!" After the
meal the old man lay down to take a nap, but the Pope kept
scheming how to steal the loaves from him. The old man went
to sleep. The Pope drew the loaves out of his pocket and
began quietly nibbling them at his seat. The old man awoke
and felt for his loaves; they were gone!

"Where are my loaves?" he exclaimed; "who has eaten
them? was it you, Pope?"

"No, not I, on my word!" replied the Pope.

"Well, so be it," said the old man.

They gave themselves a shake, and set out again on their
journey. They walked and walked; suddenly the road branched
off in two different directions. Well, they both went the same
way, and soon reached a certain country. In that country the
King's daughter lay at the point of death, and the King had given
notice that to him who should cure his daughter he would give
half of his kingdom, and half of his goods and possessions; but
if any one undertook to cure her and failed, he should have his
head chopped off and hung up on a stake. Well, they arrived,
elbowed their way among the people in front of the King's palace,
and gave out that they were doctors. The servant came out
from the King's palace, and began questioning them:

"Who are you? from what cities, of what families? what
do you want?"

"We are doctors," they replied; "we can cure the Princess!"

"Oh! if you are doctors, come into the palace."

So they went into the palace, saw the Princess, and asked
the King to supply them with a private apartment, a tub of
water, a sharp sword, and a big table. The King supplied
them with all these things. Then they shut themselves up in
the private apartment, laid the Princess on the big table, cut
her into small pieces with the sharp sword, flung them into the
tub of water, washed them, and rinsed them. Afterwards they
began putting the pieces together; when the old man breathed
on them the different pieces stuck together. When he had put
all the pieces together properly, he gave them a final puff of
breath: the Princess began to quiver, and then arose alive and
well! The King came in person to the door of their room, and
cried:

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy
Ghost!"

"Amen!" they replied.

"Have you cured the Princess?" asked the King.

"We've cured her," say the doctors. "Here she is!"

Out went the Princess to the King, alive and well.

Says the King to the doctors: "What sort of valuables will
you have? would you like gold or silver? Take whatever you
please."

Well, they began taking gold and silver. The old man used
only a thumb and two fingers, but the Pope seized whole handfuls,
and kept on stowing them away in his wallet--shovelling
them into it, and then lifting it a bit to see if he was strong
enough to carry it.

At last they took their leave of the King and went their way.
The old man said to the Pope, "We'll bury this money in the
ground, and go and make another cure." Well, they walked
and walked, and at length they reached another country. In
that country, also, the King had a daughter at the point of death,
and he had given notice that whoever cured his daughter should
have half of his kingdom and of his goods and possessions; but
if he failed to cure her he should have his head chopped off and
hung up on a stake.[457] Then the Evil One afflicted the envious
Pope, suggesting to him "Why shouldn't he go and perform
the cure by himself, without saying a word to the old man, and
so lay hold of all the gold and silver for himself?" So the
Pope walked about in front of the royal gates, forced himself on
the notice of the people there, and gave out that he was a doctor.
In the same way as before he asked the King for a private
room, a tub of water, a large table, and a sharp sword. Shutting
himself up in the private room, he laid the Princess on the table,
and began chopping her up with the sharp sword; and however
much the Princess might scream or squeal, the Pope, without
paying any attention to either screaming or squealing, went on
chopping and chopping just as if she had been so much beef.
And when he had chopped her up into little pieces, he threw
them into the tub, washed them, rinsed them, and then put
them together bit by bit, exactly as the old man had done, expecting
to see all the pieces unite with each other. He breathes
on them--but nothing happens! He gives another puff--worse
than ever! See, the Pope flings the pieces back again into the
water, washes and washes, rinses and rinses, and again puts
them together bit by bit. Again he breathes on them--but still
nothing comes of it.

"Woe is me," thinks the Pope; "here's a mess!"

Next morning the King arrives and looks--the doctor has
had no success at all--he's only messed the dead body all over
with muck!

The King ordered the doctor off to the gallows. Then our
Pope besought him, crying--

"O King! O free to do thy will! Spare me for a little
time! I will run for the old man, he will cure the Princess."

The Pope ran off in search of the old man. He found the
old man, and cried:

"Old man! I am guilty, wretch that I am! The Devil
got hold of me. I wanted to cure the King's daughter all by
myself, but I couldn't. Now they're going to hang me. Do
help me!"

The old man returned with the Pope.

The Pope was taken to the gallows. Says the old man to
the Pope:

"Pope! who ate my loaves?"

"Not I, on my word! So help me Heaven, not I!"

The Pope was hoisted on to the second step. Says the old
man to the Pope:

"Pope! who ate my loaves?"

"Not I, on my word! So help me Heaven, not I!"

He mounted the third step--and again it was "Not I!"
And now his head was actually in the noose--but it's "Not I!"
all the same. Well, there was nothing to be done! Says the
old man to the King:

"O King! O free to do thy will! Permit me to cure the
Princess. And if I do not cure her, order another noose to be
got ready. A noose for me, and a noose for the Pope!"

Well, the old man put the pieces of the Princess's body together,
bit by bit, and breathed on them--and the Princess stood
up alive and well. The King recompensed them both with
silver and gold.

"Let's go and divide the money, Pope," said the old man.

So they went. They divided the money into three heaps.
The Pope looked at them, and said:

"How's this? There's only two of us. For whom is this
third share?"

"That," says the old man, "is for him who ate my loaves."

"I ate them, old man," cries the Pope; "I did really, so
help me Heaven!"