Prevod
Zamisel o dolgem blodenju kot kazni, kakršno simbolizirajo »Večni Jud«, »Leteči Holandec« in lik Kundry v »Parsifalu«, najdemo tudi v legendi o Petru Ruggu. Ta nenavadni mož, ki je z ženo in hčerko živel na ulici Middle Street v Bostonu, je veljal za poštenega in lepo vzgojenega človeka, razen kadar so ga popadli napadi preklinjanja. Bil je namreč nagnjen k izbruhom besa, med katerimi je vrata raje brcnil in se prebil skoznje, kakor da bi jih odprl, pregriznil debele žeblje na dvoje in tako silovito preklinjal, da mu je lasulja letela z glave. Jeseni leta 1770 je s svojo deklico obiskal Concord, na poti domov pa ju je ujela huda nevihta. Zatekel se je k prijatelju v Menotomyju, ki ga je prigovarjal, naj ostane čez noč, saj je dež iz trenutka v trenutek močneje lil. Toda Rugga ni bilo mogoče zadržati, in ko je videl, da ni nobenega upanja, da bi se v mesto vrnil suh, je zarjovel strašno kletev in zavpil: »Naj se nevihta še okrepi! Nocoj bom kljub njej prišel domov, ali pa naj doma nikoli več ne vidim!« Nato je vrgel otroka v odprto kočijo, skočil za njo, oplazil konja z bičem in oddrvel.
Nekaj noči pozneje, ko so Ruggovi sosedje z laternami hodili naokrog in skušali odkriti vzrok silnega tresenja, ki jih je ob slabem vremenu začelo vznemirjati, je ta vzkipljivi gospod, ki ga od obiska v Concordu ni nihče več videl, v svoji kočiji pridrvel po tlakovani ulici. Ob njem je sedela hčerka, njegov črni konj pa je divjal naprej kljub vsem njegovim poskusom, da bi ga ustavil. Lanterne, ki so za hip obsvetile Petrov obraz, so razkrile premočenega in izmučenega moža, ki je hrepeneče upiral oči k oknom, za katerimi ga je čakala žena. Nato je izginil in tla so se zatresla kakor ob potresu, dež pa je začel še močneje liti.
Gospa Rugg je v letu dni umrla, Peter pa ni nikoli prišel domov. Toda iz vseh koncev Nove Anglije so prihajale zgodbe o možu in otroku, ki sta z veliko hitrostjo drvela po cestah in se ustavljala le toliko, da sta vprašala za pot v Boston. V polovici primerov je mož potoval v nasprotno smer od tiste, v katero je očitno želel iti, in ko so mu pokazali pravo pot, je zavpil, da ga zavajajo. Včasih so ga slišali zamrmrati: »Nocoj ne bo doma.« V Hartfordu, Providenceu, Newburyportu in med griči New Hampshira je njegov zaskrbljeni obraz postal znan in pravili so mu »prinašalec neviht«, saj so v uri po njegovem prihodu vselej nastopili dež, veter, bliskanje, grmenje in tema.
Pred nekaj leti je neki mož v mestu v Connecticutu ustavil tega hitečega popotnika, ki mu je na vprašanje odgovoril: »Izgubil sem pot v Boston. Ime mi je Peter Rugg.« Tedaj so se tisti, ki so imeli dober spomin, spomnili Ruggovega izginotja pred pol stoletja, in ljudje so Petra začeli gledati postrani ter mu ob srečanju puščali veliko prostora na cesti. Pobiralec mostnine na mostu v Charlestownu je izjavil, da ga je vznemirjalo in strašilo silovito topotanje kopit in ropotanje koles, ki je, kakor se je zdelo, tik pred njegovim obrazom drvelo proti Bostonu, pa vendar ni mogel ničesar videti. Neke noči je zbral pogum in se s trinožnim stolčkom postavil na sredo mostu. Ko se je zvok približal, je v mraku razločil velikega črnega konja, ki ga je vozil utrujen mož z otrokom ob sebi. Stolček je zalučal konju v glavo, vendar je ta šel skozi žival kakor skozi dim in poskakoval po vozišču mostu. Toliko je povedal pobiralec mostnine, ko pa so ga vprašali, ali se je Rugg še kdaj prikazal, ni odgovoril.
Izvirnik
The idea of long wandering as a penalty, symbolized in “The Wandering Jew,” “The Flying Dutchman,” and the character of Kundry, in “Parsifal,” has application in the legend of Peter Rugg. This strange man, who lived in Middle Street, Boston, with his wife and daughter, was esteemed, as a person of probity and good manners except in his swearing fits, for he was subject to outbursts of passion, when he would kick his way through doors instead of opening them, bite tenpenny nails in two, and curse his wig off In the autumn of 1770 he visited Concord, with his little girl, and on the way home was overtaken by a violent storm. He took shelter with a friend at Menotomy, who urged him to stay all night, for the rain was falling heavier every moment; but Rugg would not be stayed, and seeing that there was no hope of a dry journey back to town he roared a fearful oath and cried, “Let the storm increase. I will see home to-night in spite of it, or may I never see home!” With that he tossed the child into the open chaise, leaped in after her, lashed his horse, and was off.
Several nights afterward, while Rugg's neighbors were out with lanterns trying to discover the cause of a heavy jarring that had begun to disturb them in bad weather, the excitable gentleman, who had not been seen since his Concord visit, came whirling along the pavement in his carriage, his daughter beside him, his black horse plunging on in spite of his efforts to stop him. The lanterns that for a moment twinkled in Peter's face showed him as a wet and weary man, with eyes turned up longingly at the windows where his wife awaited him; then he was gone, and the ground trembled as with an earthquake, while the rain fell more heavily.
Mrs. Rugg died within a twelvemonth, and Peter never reached home, but from all parts of New England came stories of a man and child driving rapidly along the highways, never stopping except to inquire the way to Boston. Half of the time the man would be headed in a direction opposite to the one he seemed to want to follow, and when set right would cry that he was being deceived, and was sometimes heard to mutter, “No home to-night.” In Hartford, Providence, Newburyport, and among the New Hampshire hills the anxious face of the man became known, and he was referred to as “the stormbreeder,” for so surely as he passed there would be rain, wind, lightning, thunder, and darkness within the hour.
Some years ago a man in a Connecticut town stopped this hurrying traveller, who said, in reply to a question, “I have lost the road to Boston. My name is Peter Rugg.” Then Rugg's disappearance half a century before was cited by those who had long memories, and people began to look askant at Peter and gave him generous road room when they met him. The toll-taker on Charlestown bridge declared that he had been annoyed and alarmed by a prodigious tramping of hoofs and rattling of wheels that seemed to pass toward Boston before his very face, yet he could see nothing. He took courage one night to plant himself in the middle of the bridge with a three-legged stool, and when the sound approached he dimly saw a large black horse driven by a weary looking man with a child beside him. The stool was flung at the horse's head, but passed through the animal as through smoke and skipped across the floor of the bridge. Thus much the toll-collector said, but when asked if Rugg had appeared again he made no reply.
