SMALLER GHOST AND TREASURE STORIES AND FAMILY AND LOCAL TRADITIONS.
Reading edition
1
‘I’ve often slept in a room where it was said the ghost of a woman who was killed there, walked about with her head under her arm; but I never saw her,’ said I, to set the thing going.
‘Oh! I wouldn’t have done that for the world!’ exclaimed Nos. 2 and 3 together.
‘Ah! Some see them and some don’t see them, and you’re one of those who don’t see them. That’s where it is,’ said No. 2.
‘Yes,’ added No. 3; ‘I know lots of people who have seen them,’ and she was going on to give examples, but No. 1 put her down.
‘Did you ever see one yourself?’ interposed I, to keep the ball rolling.
‘Well, yes ... so far that ...’ she began, hesitatingly; but No. 1 broke in again with her vehement iteration that there are no ghosts.
‘I know there are, though,’ persisted No. 2; ‘for my mother has told me there is a house....’
‘Here in Rome?’ asked I.
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‘By it came; and “pop!” went the pistol. And there, on the spot, lay the body of one whom the police didn’t see for the first time.
‘That’s what ghosts are!’
‘That may have been,’ replied Nos. 2 and 3; ‘but that doesn’t prove that there are no ghosts for all that.’
3
‘That’s what ghosts are, I tell you!’
[The following is from another narrator.]
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Some friars were going round begging for their convent, when night overtook them in a wood.
‘What shall we do if any wolves come? I don’t believe there is any habitation in these parts, and there will be no place to run to and no one to help us. We must commend ourselves to the Madonna, and wait the event.’
They had scarcely done so when one of them saw a light sparkling through the trees. They thought it came from some woodman’s cottage, and followed its leading; but instead of a cottage they came to a handsome inn. As the door stood invitingly open they went in: a fire blazed on the hearth; a repast was spread on the table; a number of maidens, attired in pure and shining white, flitted about and brought all they wanted. When they had well supped, these led them to a room where was a bed apiece, and in the morning again they gave them breakfast.
Before they started again, the friars asked the maidens to take them to offer their thanks to the mistress of the house, and they led them into a room where was a most beautiful lady, who inquired kindly if they had been well served and wished them a good journey. Moreover, as they went she gave them a folded paper.
The friars, unused to be so entertained, were much bewildered, and wondered what lady it could be who lived all alone with her maidens in that wild wood; and they turned back to look at the inn that they might know it again, but it had entirely disappeared, nor was there a vestige of it to be found.
Then they opened the folded paper the lady had given them, and by the shining letters within they knew it was the Madonna herself had entertained them.
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‘If you want ghost-stories, I can tell them as well as another; but mind I don’t believe such things,’ said another.
‘Tell me what you’ve heard, then.’
‘It looked so strange that she hesitated before she picked it up. But at last she made up her mind and took it. No sooner had she done so than a spirit appeared before her, and said, “Come down with me into the cellar and I’ll show you something.”
‘“No, thank you, sir,” said the woman, not knowing what to do for fear.
‘“Nonsense! come down, you shan’t be hurt,” said the spirit.
‘“I’d rather not, sir, thank you,” was all the woman could stammer out.
‘“You must come! I’ll give you something to make you rich for good and all,” persisted the spirit; and, somehow, she didn’t know how, she felt herself obliged to follow him.
‘By-and-by they set the bier down, and as she heard nothing more she concluded the spirits were gone; still she durst not move till some few rays of daylight began to peep through; then she summoned up courage to get out of the coffin.
‘When she did so she saw it was all of solid gold, as well as the bier. There was gold enough to have made her rich to the end of her days, but she was so frightened that she wasn’t able to enjoy it, but died at the end of a month; for riches that are got in ways that are not straightforward never profit anyone.
‘That’s the story as it’s told; but I don’t believe those things, mind you.’
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‘Ah! I remember, too, when I was quite a girl and lived with my father and mother in a house near Piazza Barberini, I remember one day my little sister Ghisa coming running up out of the cellar crying out there was a spirit which had stood waving its hand, and beckoning to her.
‘And when the others went down to see what it was all about, they did find some human bones in a corner of the cellar, and no one knew how they got there. But that didn’t prove that the child had actually seen a ghost.’
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[The above story of the golden coffin, it will be observed, was told as of a particular district in Rome. Another time, it was told me of a village in the Campagna; the narrator said she knew the name well, but could not recollect it at the moment. In other respects, there were few differences of detail; but the countrywoman was more robust and courageous than the town woman, and this is how she got on.]
‘She was always finding half-pence about the ground where she worked. One day she found a silver piece; as she went to pick it up she saw “One” standing by. “Come with me!” he said; and the countrywoman, not at all afraid, went with him. He led her by solitary ways till he came to a lone empty cottage, when he left her. Quite undaunted, she walked in. There was a large empty room in the midst, all lighted up with ever so many lights.
‘“Don’t touch, don’t touch!” screamed an anxious voice. “Touch! touch!” shouted a more gloomy voice. At last she did touch.’
[‘Touched what?’ asked I; ‘the lights, or the floor, or what?’
The narrator was posed by the question.
‘Oh, I don’t know what she touched. It must be supposed she touched something.’]
‘Instantly all the lights went out, and she stood in the strange place in the dark. Still she was not frightened. She had the courage to strike a light. By its means she saw there was now a large coffin in the midst of the room. She went straight up to it and opened it. It was full of money! Waiting till daylight, she took home with her as much as ever she could carry. But she kept her own counsel, and never told anyone, and when she wanted money she went back there and took it.
‘But if she never told anyone, how did anyone know the story?’
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‘This one now is quite true, for Sora Maria (you know who I mean) told me of it, and she knew the woman as well as her own sister.
‘This woman lived near the church of S. Spirito de Napoletani—you know it?’
‘Yes, in Via Giulia.’
‘Exactly. Well, she used to take in washing to make a little for herself more than what her husband gave her. But he didn’t like her doing it, and was very angry whenever he saw her at it. But as he was out all day at his work, she used to manage to get through with it in his absence pretty well.
‘One day the water would not boil, all she could do. First she got excited, then she got angry. “It isn’t that I care,” she said; “but if my husband comes home and sees what I am doing he’ll be so angry! What will he say! What shall I do! I would give my soul to the devil only to get it boiling in time!”
‘Scarcely had she said the words when blu, blu, blu! the water began to bubble up in the pot, boiling furiously all of a sudden, and though it was now so short a time before her husband came back, all the work was done and out of sight, and he perceived nothing.
‘At last she could stand it no longer, and she woke her husband and told him all. The husband could see nothing, and tried to quiet her, but she kept crying out, now, “Here he is, here!” and now, “There he is, there!” till at last he was obliged to call the friars of S. Spirito de’ Napolitani to her to exorcise the spirit; and it was very difficult, because she had promised to give her soul to the devil; but it had been thoughtlessly done, and in the end the apparition was got rid of.’
[It so happens, however, that the church of S. Spirito de’ Napolitani is served by secular priests, and not friars.]
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‘Here’s another thing I have heard that will do for you.
‘There were two who took a peasant and carried him into the Campagna.’
‘What! two ghosts?’
‘No, no! two fellows who had more money than they knew what to do with. They took him into the Campagna and made an omelette very good, with plenty of sweet-scented herbs in it, and made him eat it.
‘Then they took a barrel and measured him against it, and then another, till they found one to fit, and killed him and filled it up with money, and made a hole in the earth and buried it.
‘And they said over it, “No one may disturb you till one comes who makes an omelette with just the same sweet-scented herbs as we have used, and makes it just on the top of this hole. Then, come out and say, ‘This gold is yours.’”
‘And, of course, in the ordinary course of things, no one would have thought of making an omelette with just those same herbs, just on the top of that hole. But there was one who knew the other two, and suspected something of what they were going to do, and he went up and hid himself in a tree, and watched all that was done, and heard the words.
‘As soon as they were gone he came down and took some nice fresh eggs, and just the same sweet-scented herbs the others had used, and made an omelette just over the hole where he had seen them bury the barrel with the money and the man in it.
‘He had no sooner done so than the man came out all whole and well, and said: “Oh, how many years have I been shut up in that dark place” (though he hadn’t been there half-an-hour) “till you came to deliver me! Therefore all the gold is yours.”
‘Such things can’t be true, so I don’t believe them; but that’s what they tell.’
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‘And don’t they tell other stories about there being treasures hid about Rome?’
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[These treasure stories are common everywhere. In Tirol, especially, they abound, and are of two kinds. First, concerning treasure hidden in the earth, arising out of the metal mines that were formerly worked there, and the carbuncles which are still found; and the second, precisely like these, of money walled-up in old houses and castles. A countryman, who saw me sketching the old ruin of Monte Rufiano, on a height not far from the banks of Lake Thrasimene, told me a story about it, just like a Tirolese story, of treasure hidden ever so deep under it, and guarded by twelve spectres, who went about, carrying torches in procession, on a Good Friday.
Senhor de Saraiva tells me there is a great variety of such stories in Portugal, where the treasures are generally said to have been hidden by the Moors, and are supposed to be buried under a gigantic depth of rock. A place was once pointed out to him, where there were said to be two enormous jars, one full of gold, and the other of boiling pitch. If, in digging, a man came upon the right one, he would be rich enough to buy up the whole world; but if, by ill luck, his spade first reached the other, the pitch would overflow and destroy everyone on the face of the earth; so that no one dared to make the attempt. The people believe that such localities may be revealed to them in dreams. But they must dream the same dream three nights running, and not tell it to anyone. If they tell it, they will find the money all turned to charcoal. Brick boxes of charcoal have frequently been found buried under Roman boundary stones in Portugal, and in this, he thinks, lies the origin of this latter fancy.
It is remarkable how many odds and ends of history remain laid up in the memories of the Roman people, like the majolica vases and point-lace in their houses. A great favourite with them is the story of Beatrice Cenci, which they tell, under the name of ‘La bella Cenci,’ with more or less exaggeration of detail.
‘Do you know the story of “Sciarra Colonna?”’ said an old woman, who seemed scarcely a person likely to know much about such matters.]