The Queer, the Quaint and the Quizzical: A Cabinet for the Curious

by Frank H. Stauffer

The Wandering Jew.

Brought to Europe from the East, after the first crusade under Peter the Hermit, late in the eleventh century, was the legend of the Wandering Jew. This appellation was given by the popular voice to almost every mendicant with a long white beard and scanty clothing, who, supported by a long staff, trudged along the roads with eyes downcast, and without opening his lips.

In the year 1228 this legend was told for the first time by an Armenian bishop, then lately arrived from the Holy Land, to the monks of St. Alban, in England. According to his narrative, Joseph Cartaphilus was door-keeper at the prætorium of Pontius Pilate when Jesus was led away to be crucified. As Jesus halted upon the threshold of the prætorium, Cartaphilus struck him in the loins and said: "Move faster! Why do you stop here?" Jesus, the legend continues, turned round to him and said, with a severe look: "I go, but you will await my coming."

Cartaphilus, who was then thirty years old, and who since then has always returned to that age when he had completed a hundred years, has ever since been awaiting the coming of our Lord and the end of the world. He was said to suffer under the peculiar doom of ceaselessly traversing the earth on foot. The general belief was that he was a man of great piety, of sad and gentle manners, of few words, often weeping, seldom smiling, and content with the scantiest and simplest food and the most poverty-stricken garments. Such was the tradition which poets and romancists in various lands and many languages have introduced into song and story.

As the ages rolled on new circumstances were added to this tale. Paul of Eitzen, a German bishop, wrote in a letter to a friend that he had met the Wandering Jew at Hamburg, in 1564, and had a long conversation with him. He appeared to be fifty years of age. His hair was long, and he went barefoot. His dress consisted of very full breeches, a short petticoat or kilt reaching to the knees, and a cloak so long that it descended to his heels. Instead of Joseph Cartaphilus, he then was called Ahasuerus. He attended Christian worship, prostrating himself with sighs, tears and beating of the breast whenever the name of Jesus was spoken. The bishop further stated that this man's speech was very edifying. He could not hear an oath without bursting into tears, and when offered money would accept only a few sous.

According to the bishop's version of the affair, Cartaphilus was standing in front of his house, in Jerusalem, with his wife and children, when he roughly accosted Jesus, who had halted to take breath while carrying his cross to Calvary. "I shall stop and be at rest," was all that the Lord said; "but you will ever be on foot." After this sentence Cartaphilus quitted home and family to do perpetual penance by wandering on foot over the whole world. He did not know, the bishop said, what God intended to do with him, in compelling him so long to lead such a miserable life, but had hope and faith in His mercy. There was scarcely a town or village in Europe, in the sixteenth century, but what claimed to have given hospitality to this unfortunate witness of the Passion of our Lord.

The Pyed Piper.

Verstegan, in his "Restitution of Decayed Intelligence," 1634, relates the following strange story: "Hulberstadt, in Germany, was extremely infested with rats, which a certain musician, called, from his habit, the Pyed Piper, agreed for a large sum of money to destroy. He tuned his pipes, and the rats immediately followed him to the next river, where they were all drowned. But when the piper demanded his pay he was refused with scorn and contempt, upon which he began another tune, and was followed by all the children of the town to a neighboring hill called Hamelen, which opened and swallowed them up, then closed again. One boy, being lame, came after the rest, but seeing what had happened, he returned and related the strange circumstance. The story was believed, for the parents never after heard of their lost children. This incident is stated to have happened on the 22d of July, in the year 1376, and since that time the people of Hulberstadt permit not any drum, pipe or other instrument to be sounded in that street which leads to the gate through which the children passed. They also established a decree that in all writings of contract or bargain, after the date of our Saviour's nativity, the date also of the year of the children's going forth should be added, in perpetual remembrance of this surprising event."

Thomas, the Rhymer.

This character was one of the earliest poets of Scotland. His life and writings are involved in much obscurity, though he is supposed to have been Thomas Learmount, of Ercildonne. The time of his birth is unknown, but he appears to have reached the height of his reputation in 1283, when he is said to have predicted the death of Alexander III., king of Scotland. One day the Rhymer, when visiting at the Castle of Dunbar, was interrogated by the Earl of March in a jocular manner as to what the morrow would bring forth. "Alas for to-morrow! a day of calamity and misery!" replied the Rhymer. "Before the twelfth hour shall be heard a blast so vehement that it shall exceed all those which have yet been heard in Scotland—a blast which shall strike the nations with amazement; shall confound those who hear it; shall humble what is lofty, and what is unbending shall level with the ground." On the following day the earl, who had been unable to discover any unusual appearance in the weather, when seating himself at table, observed the hand of the dial to point to the hour of noon, while, at the same moment, a messenger appeared, bringing the mournful tidings of the accidental death of the king. The legend says that the Rhymer was carried off at an early age to Fairyland, where he acquired all the knowledge which made him so famous. After seven years' residence there, he was permitted to return to the earth to enlighten and astonish his countrymen by his prophetic powers, but bound to return to the Fairy Queen, his royal mistress, whenever she should intimate her pleasure. Accordingly, while the Rhymer was making merry with his friends at his tower at Ercildonne, a person came running in and told, with marks of alarm and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left the neighboring forest, and were slowly and composedly parading the street of the village. The Rhymer instantly rose, left his habitation, and followed the animals to the forest, whence he was never seen to return.