Around Vilnius on the path of legends

There are several miraculous paintings in Lithuania, and one of them can be seen in the most important place of worship in the city – the Chapel of St. Casimir in Vilnius Cathedral. Casimir was the son of the Grand Duke of Lithuania and King of Poland.

The painting was probably painted in the early 16th century as part of the beatification of Casimir. According to a popular legend, in the middle of painting the image of the King, and having already painted the King’s right hand holding the lily, the artist decided to change the position of the hand. Initially, Casimir’s hand was painted with the palm away from his chest, but then the artist decided to repaint it by turning it the other way towards the chest. However, it was difficult to paint over the original version of the hand – even a thick layer of paint could not hide it. This event was deemed a miracle that proclaimed the holiness and uniqueness of the King.

Interestingly, the King was canonised twice – the first time, St. Casimir was canonised by a papal bull (an official papal letter) in 1521. Unfortunately, after receiving the bull from the Pope, the bishop tasked with delivering the joyful news fell ill and died while still in Italy before reaching our lands. His papers were lost, and it was not until 1602 that King Casimir was declared a saint again, immediately after it was discovered that the original papal bull had been lost.  

In Christian tradition, St Peter is depicted in sculptures or paintings holding the keys to paradise. The Bible tells us that St. Peter was given the authority to lead the church established on earth after Christ spoke those fateful words: “I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of heaven; what you prohibit on earth will be prohibited in heaven, and what you permit on earth will be permitted in heaven.” (Mt 16:19).

However, if St Peter were depicted not according to the words of the Bible but according to a fairy tale that existed in the lands of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, he would probably have onion leaves in his hand. 

In 1887, ethnographer and linguist Jan Aleksander Karłowicz collected and published fairy tales and fables told in the former lands of the GDL. In this collection, one can find both more or less well-known stories, but some of them have been all but forgotten. One of these is the tale of St Peter and the greedy lady. 

The tale begins by saying that there was a very greedy woman who never shared anything. One day, while she was weeding a particularly fertile garden, a beggar came up to her and asked her to feed him. The woman took one look at him and threw a spring onion with long sprouting leaves at his feet. After a while, it was revealed that the beggar was none other than St. Peter himself. Some time passed, and while Jesus and St. Peter were walking, they saw a deep, burning chasm where the same greedy woman was languishing in torment. Jesus told St. Peter to help the woman. St. Peter gathered some spring onion leaves that were growing nearby and held them out to the woman so that she could grasp them and St. Peter could pull her out. However, the onion leaves broke off, and the woman found herself back in the abyss. St. Peter held out the onion leaves to the woman several more times, but every time, they kept breaking, and the greedy woman remained in the abyss forever…

At the end of the book, the author gives another version of the tale as recounted by other people. The son of the woman who was in the abyss begged for God’s help; God agreed, but only on the condition that the son himself would give her the onion leaves. The woman clung to them, but the spirits in the abyss began to pull her back. Eventually, the woman fell back into the abyss and remained there forever, while the spirits that were closest to the edge of the cliff managed to climb out of the abyss.

Most people are probably familiar with the love story of 16th-century Zygmunt August (Žygimantas Augustas) and Barbara Radziwiłł (Barbora Radvilaitė). Unfortunately, the lovers could not enjoy their romance for long. This love story is also accompanied by a spell orchestrated by the magician Jan Twardowski (Janas Tvarkovskis). It is after him that the tower, which once stood on the marked site, is named.  

In 1547, a secret wedding took place between Zygmunt August and Barbara Radziwiłł, which was fiercely opposed by the Polish nobility and by Bona Sforza, the mother of Zygmunt August. This did not stop Zygmunt from formally presenting Barbara to the royal court. His love was so great that he was even willing to renounce his hereditary royal throne in order to be with his beloved. Finally, in 1550, Barbara Radziwiłł was crowned in Kraków. However, just five months later, an illness tragically took her soul.

Unable to bear his grief any longer, Zygmunt August decided to seek help from Jan Twardowski, the court soothsayer and astrologer. According to legend, the magician had sold his soul to Satan in exchange for infinite knowledge and magical skills. Twardowski is known to have possessed tools for satanic rituals. He used one of them to fulfil the wish of the grieving Zygmunt August – to see his wife just once more. Using his abilities and a magic mirror, Twardowski summoned the spirit of Barbara Radziwiłł, but this only made Zygmund mourn the loss of his wife even more.

According to researchers, Jan Tvardowski’s name was first mentioned in the work of Łukasz Górnicki, Zygmunt August’s secretary. Immediately after the King’s death, the wizard was dismissed because he knew too many secrets of the court. However, Tvardowski’s magic mirror is still preserved in the city of Węgrów in Poland.

Fireworks were one of the main entertainments of the Baroque era. They were used as a way of showing off one’s grandeur, as only the richest citizens could afford this luxurious entertainment. In Vilnius at that time, fireworks were usually organised near the Neris at the Arsenal. On the occasion of festivals or important celebrations, the city was transformed into a noisy arena, with musket and mortar volleys exploding and the sound of fireworks crackling over buildings. 

This entertainment became popular at the turn of the 18th century with the introduction of gunpowder weapons, which, like fireworks, were designed and developed by military engineers. One of the main places in the city where gunpowder was used was the Old Arsenal in the grounds of the Lower Castle. Once known as the House of Armaments, this building was used for the storage, maintenance, and repair of military ammunition, as well as for the production of spare parts to meet the needs of the army.  

Written sources describe a firework display in Vilnius in 1754, organised to celebrate the birth of Augustus III. Although the spectacle was impressive, the preparation of the fireworks required not only a large investment but also the necessary training: the explosive materials could cause fires, and therefore specialist knowledge of how they were constructed was required

The name of the capital’s main river is a phenomenon: since ancient times, it has been known by two names – the Neris and the Vilija. It is believed that the Balts and the Crusaders referred to the river as the Neris, while the Vilija (also referred to as the ‘Velios’ or ‘Veljos’ in the sources) was closer to those with Slavic roots and meant ‘great’. Unfortunately, no historical source has survived to this day to explain the origin of either name; however, since the 16th century, a number of historians have tried to shed light on the issue.

One of the most creative etymologies of the words ‘Neris’ and ‘Vilija’ was suggested by the historian Michał Baliński (1836–1837) in his ‘History of Vilnius’ book, originally published in Polish as Historya miasta Wilna. According to Baliński, the Vilija should be associated with the Lithuanian verb ‘vilioti’, meaning to allure or entice, as the beautiful river beckoned people wandering through the forests to come to its banks.

On the other hand, M. Baliński assumes that the name could have been given to the river after the Christianisation of Lithuania. In fact, the original name was probably ‘Vigilia’ (Fluvio Vigilia in Latin), as this is the name of the river mentioned in the 1390 document in which Jagiełło (Jogaila) donates Paneriai to the Vilnius City Chapter.

As for the Neris, the historian derives the name of the river from the word ‘to dive’, as the river seems to be submerged in the hills on which the city of Vilnius is situated. 

There is also a legend explaining one of the names of the river. It is described in the book ‘The Neris and its Banks’ (Polish: Wilija i jej brzegi) by Count Konstanty Tyszkiewicz. The story tells us that once upon a time, at the source of the Neris River (in the present-day territory of northern Belarus, near the village of Šilėnų), there lived a shoemaker named Stephen and his wife, 

Vuljana (Wulianna in Polish). One fateful day, Stephen was visited by evil spirits, and the shoemaker started to turn into stone. At first, he could still sew, so the locals kept bringing him fabric and thread and continued to pay him for his work, which he used to provide for his beloved wife, who visited him every day. Once, angered by a customer’s bad joke, Stephen froze and turned completely into stone. When Vuljana found the dead stone, she started to cry. She cried so hard that a stream appeared in that place, which came to be called by her name, Vuljana.

As time passed, people simplified the widow’s name and the stream became known as Viljana, and later, the locals shortened the name of the river to Vilia, which is what it is called today.

The courtyard off Pilies g. 22 is not only special because it was the site of the first botanical garden in the late 18th century; it was in this very courtyard that a ball lightning bolt struck the building of the College of Medicine in the autumn of 1824. This is an extremely rare phenomenon whose physical nature is still disputed. The story of this event is linked to Dr August Bécu, who lived in the building.

August Bécu was the stepfather of the famous Polish Romantic poet Julius Słowacki. Bécu lived in Vilnius for some time and worked at Vilnius University. In 1799, he obtained the degree of Professor of Pathology and Pharmacology. He is said to have been the first physician in Vilnius to have been vaccinated against smallpox and to have encouraged local people to be vaccinated against this contagious disease. 

On that fateful day, when a huge storm swept through Vilnius, ball lightning struck the Old Town. Having managed to avoid old trees and church towers, it flew through the window of August Bécu’s house. It is believed that a box of metal surgical instruments stored in a chest of drawers attracted the lightning into the room. The lightning was so powerful that it not only caused a fire but also melted the silver coins that were in the chest of drawers!

The site is now an open square, but until recently, before the rebuilding of the former Bishop’s (now the Presidential) Palace, the site was a closed library courtyard. 

Vilnius University Library, founded in the 16th century, houses some of the oldest publications in Lithuania. The Library collections were founded by the libraries of Bishop Georg Albinus and King Zygmunt August. The King had amassed a huge collection of works in the Palace of the Grand Dukes, which he bequeathed to the Jesuits, who had founded a college in Vilnius. The collection consisted of works by ancient philosophers and jurists, as well as other books brought back from various parts of Europe. 

However, the most interesting specimen in the collection was a book written by the court soothsayer Jan Twardowski that was said to hold magical powers. After the deaths of Twardowski and Zygmunt August, people searched for the book for a long time, but no one could find it. Legend has it that it was discovered decades later, completely by accident, by a student studying theology in Vilnius Library. Despite his doubts and fears, the student opened it. At the same moment, the smell of sulphur filled the air, and the ensuing noise in the reading room made the terrified student run out of the library. When he went back the next day, the student returned to the scene and found it in complete disarray. There was no sign of Twardowski’s magical book, only the empty chains that had been used to shackle it.

It is believed that the book has been making its own way around the world independently ever since.

In Lithuania, as in other countries, a total solar eclipse is considered extremely rare. In our country, it occurs only about every 150 years, which is probably why it has been considered a prophetic sign since ancient times. For example, according to the world’s first historian – Herodotus, a solar eclipse during a battle between the historical regions of Lydia and Media stopped the fighting and prompted both sides to make peace. 

In our region, it has been believed since ancient times that an eclipse is the work of the devil, who reveals his power every hundred years or so. To ward off evil spirits, parents and grandparents used to tell their children to make as much noise as possible, such as hitting metal utensils with sticks. This was believed to ward off evil spirits that darken the sun.

Rare astrological phenomena, such as a falling comet or a solar eclipse, were usually considered bad omens. They were a sign of future misfortune: war, plague, famine, or the death of a pope, ruler, or another important person. 

One of the past solar eclipses also struck our country’s ruler, King Jagiełło (Jogaila). This eclipse was described in the chronicles of Jan Długosz (also known in Latin as Johannes Longinus), a 15th-century historian and diplomat. According to him, in 1415, when Jagiełło and his entourage were on their way to Lithuania, on 7 June, between 9 and 12 o’clock, an unexpected and unfamiliar phenomenon caused first great astonishment and then superstitious awe. The birds, frightened by the darkness, landed on the ground, and the stars shone in the sky like night. 

The ruler told everyone to stop. In despair, the people stumbled and began to pray for the return of the sun. After a few minutes, the sun returned, and the journey continued – Jagiełło passed through Vosyliškės and Eišiškės and reached Trakai Castle, where Grand Duke Vytautas was waiting for him. 

It is said to have been one of the longest solar eclipses in history, lasting almost 10 minutes.

The ruler told everyone to stop. In despair, the people stumbled and began to pray for the return of the sun. After a few minutes, the sun returned and the journey continued – through Vosyliškes and Eišiškės, the ruler reached Trakai Castle, where Grand Duke Vytautas was waiting for him. 

It is said to have been one of the longest solar eclipses in history, lasting almost 10 minutes.

The Church of the Holy Spirit and the Dominican Monastery, which were rebuilt after a fire in the 17th century, have been famous for their cellars for some time. They are reputedly the burial places of victims of wars, plague, and other epidemics.

It is said that the spirits living in the church cellars were feared by Governor-General Mikhail Muravyov himself. Known colloquially as the ‘hangman’, he ordered the imprisonment of those he considered rebels of the 1863 Uprising (when Poles and Lithuanians fought with the aim of restoring the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth against Tsarist Russia). The rebels were imprisoned here. And Muravyov decided that military personnel should be on duty at the entrance to the cellar 24 hours a day, changing every four hours. One day, a soldier saw a ghost wandering around the cellar and, dropping his weapon, ran to the senior officer on duty in the monastery prison. The officer, trembling with terror, declared that he would rather receive the harshest punishment than return to guard the entrance to the cellars. The other officers, hearing this story, also refused to obey the order. The only solution left to the Governor-General was to close the door to the dungeons, which was exactly what he did. 

The mystery of the crypt did not end there. In the interwar period, curious students from Vilnius University who explored the cellars discovered a significant number of human remains that had been preserved and turned into mummies. The students wanted to take pictures of them, but all the pictures were too bright. The crypts were then open to the public for a while – in the interwar period, the entrance fee was 15 groszy. Despite many attempts, no visitor was able to take a photograph of the remains.

Today, a number of mummies are still preserved in the cellars. They are constantly being managed and explored, and the possibility of visiting these crypts is under consideration.

The Franciscan Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, tucked away on Trakų Street, has been mentioned in historical sources since the 14th century. The oldest masonry of the church dates back to the 15th century, which is probably the beginning of the history of the Chapel of St. Laurynas – Lawrence or Laurence in English. It is easy to recognise, as its pediment is decorated with three recently restored frescoes depicting St. Casimir, St. Mary, and St. Lawrence. The latter is one of the most venerated Christian martyrs.

St. Lawrence was a deacon who looked after the church’s library of Bibles and other books. When Emperor Valerius came to rule Rome, Pope Sixtus II and other clergy were arrested. Later, one of the high officials of the administration (known as the Prefect) demanded that all the church’s wealth be collected and handed over to the Empire. St. Lawrence set to work, distributing the church’s wealth to the poor within the allocated three days. When the Prefect ordered the delivery of gold and other jewels, St. Lawrence presented the poor and the handicapped, claiming that they were the true wealth of the church. 

For this act and his disrespect for the authorities, St. Lawrence was tied to a metal gridiron and condemned to a slow death over the coals. Because of his unusual death, the cult of the saint quickly spread throughout medieval Europe. He came to be seen as the patron saint of the poor, libraries, and cooks. In addition, St Lawrence was believed to protect against fires. So it should not be surprising that a chapel dedicated to the saint should appear in Vilnius to offer protection to a city that was constantly plagued by fires. 

Our ancestors used to celebrate St. Lawrence’s Day on 10 August – this was the day when pagan Lithuanians worshipped the god Perkūnas, who was believed to put an end to thunderstorms on this day too. When Christianity came, St. Lawrence was venerated on this day, but once again, it was not without superstition. On this day, people used to take butter churned on the same day to church for blessing. It was believed that butter blessed on St Laurence’s Day had miraculous healing properties that could save both people and their livestock from various diseases. 

There are several different legends about the Basilisk that lived in Vilnius. In European legends, a basilisk (or cockatrice) is a legendary reptile reputed to be a serpent king that causes death to those who look into its eyes. One legend about the Vilnius Basilisk is that the monster, who was lurking in a cave, was dealt with by the city ‘butcher’ (in other words, the executioner).

It is said that Lithuanians were unable to punish each other, so the executioners of Vilnius were usually foreigners from the West. The executioners served the city: they not only carried out the punishments handed down by the courts but also cleaned the streets, dealt with stray animals, and maintained the prison. Punishments were usually carried out in Town Hall Square. The executioners were paid handsomely for their hard and sometimes very unpleasant work. For example, in the middle of the 18th century, the executioners were paid a lot of money and earned more than the employees of the city administration. Although the profession was necessary, well-paid, and even described in the Statutes of Lithuania (the country’s legal documents of the 16th century), few people were willing to take up this ‘trade’. The townspeople did not like executioners and their families. It was rumoured that the executioner’s sword, which was used to carry out many punishments, could acquire magical powers and turn against the executioner himself, the owner of the sword. 

Legend has it that an executioner in the city decided to deal with a monster that was terrifying the city in order to improve his position in society. Of course, the executioner did not intend to tackle the Basilisk living near the Bastion on his own, but he promised to give his life to a sinner awaiting punishment who dared to carry out his plan. Soon, one brave man emerged. The executioner put a mirror on the culprit’s back and sent him to the Basilisk. The monster smelled the man and attacked him; the man turned to run away, and upon seeing his own image, the Basilisk was killed by his own gaze.

Speaking of the miracles of Vilnius, it would be inconceivable not to mention the famous painting of the Virgin Mary Mother of Mercy at the Gates of Dawn, which is famous not only in Lithuania but also in other countries. It has been famous for its miracles since ancient times, so it is not surprising that the Tsarist authorities did not dare to move the painting when they were dismantling the city’s defensive wall at the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries – they did not dismantle this gate. 

One of the miracles of the painting is evidenced by the small hole in the right-hand side of the shroud – in the Virgin Mary’s sleeve. Legend has it that Swedish soldiers who were rampaging through Vilnius, professing Protestantism, taunted and chased the locals, preventing them from praying at the holy image. And if that weren’t enough, one of the soldiers fired at the painting, damaging the metal fittings and the painting underneath them. If you inspect at close range, a bullet mark can still be seen in the metal mantle of the painting.  

For such blasphemous behaviour, the enemies incurred the wrath of God. As the soldiers were quietly milling around and warming themselves by the fire near the entrance, the giant iron door of the gate suddenly broke off and fell on the soldiers. Incidentally, the beam with holes in it, to which the city gates were attached, can still be seen today.