“Who would have ever said that amid the horrors of prison I would
find a true friend to console me?”—BOETHIUS _to_ PATRICIUS.
“All by prayer and penitence
May be at length forgiven.”
_Ballad of Sir Tannhäuser_.
There once lived in Florence a young man who was not really bad at heart,
but utterly selfish, especially to his relations, and was without heed or
feeling as to the sufferings of others. And, it being in his power, he
wasted all the income of the family on sport, letting his brothers and
sisters endure great privations; nor would he have cared much had they
starved. He was like all such people—frivolous and capricious. If he
met a poor child in the street, he would give it a gold crown, and then
let all at home hunger for days.
One day his suffering mother went to Virgilio, and, telling him all about
her son, begged the master, if it were possible, to reform him.
Virgilio said to her: “I will indeed do something which will bring thy
son to his senses.”
The young man was named Adelone, and Virgilio, meeting him the next day,
said:
“If thou wouldst fain see a strange thing indeed—such as thou hast
erewhile prayed me to show thee by my art—then be to-night at twelve in
the cloister of Santa Maria Novella, where thou wilt see and learn that
which it is most needful for thee to know. But to behold and bear the
sight thou muse be bold, for a faint heart will fail before it.”
Then Adelone, who, to do him justice, was no coward, did not fail to be
in the cloister of Santa Maria Novella at the appointed hour. And as the
last stroke of twelve was heard, Adelone saw before him the spirit of a
young man named Geronio, who had died one year before, and who had been,
as one like him in all respects, his most intimate friend. They were
always together, and what one did the other joined in; both were reckless
wasters of money, and selfishly indifferent to their families. And as
Adelone looked at Geronio he saw in the face of the latter such an
expression of awful suffering, that it was a torture to behold him. And
Geronio, seeing this, said:
“Depart now, for it is time; but this night I will come to thee and
remain with thee till morning.” {55}
And Adelone was glad to have seen Geronio once more, but greatly grieved
at finding him in such suffering.
That night he was in his room, which was on the ground, and at the
appointed hour the spirit came. And, looking with awe at his friend,
Adelone said:
“I see that thou art in pain beyond all belief.”
“Yes,” replied Geronio; “I suffer the greatest agony, such as no mortal
could endure. But I pray you come with me.”
Then the two sunk softly down into the earth, ever deeper and deeper in
silent darkness, until Adelone saw that they were in an immense cavern,
all of gray ice, dimly lighted, with dripping icicles hanging from the
roof, and all the floor was covered with dirty, half-freezing water,
under which was a bed of stinking mud, and over all was an air of sadness
and wretchedness beyond description.
“This is my home,” said Geronio; “but it is as nothing compared to what I
suffer in my soul—which is a thousand times more terrible than anything
which mortals can imagine, for they have no idea of what spiritual
torture is like, because they always think of pain as bodily. But know
that I had rather be beaten or burned in fire for a year than suffer for
an instant the remorse which I endure.”
“Can anything be done to help you?” asked Adelone.
“Yes, all can be done; and you can save me and not only give me peace,
but do as much for thyself, and thereby escape what I have suffered. If
thou wilt lead a good and loving life—good and kind to all, especially to
thy family and friends, no longer wasting money and life on selfish
follies, no longer neglecting duty and acting as an egoist—thus thou
canst give me peace, and rescue me from this inferno. But woe unto thee,
shouldst thou promise this and fail to keep thy word. For when thy time
cometh, as come it will, thou wilt suffer as I do—yea, with redoubled
remorse.”
Then Adelone, looking about him, saw many sad shades of men and women
wandering or wading through the icy water; all people who had lived for
themselves alone, all waiting till someone as yet alive should, by good
conduct, save them. And none spoke, for they were doomed to silence. So
they looked at one another, and passed on, and such looks were the only
thing like comfort allowed them.
Then Adelone fell, as it seemed to him, asleep, and when he awoke he was
in his own room, but he well knew that it was no dream which he had
beheld. And from that hour he was another man, becoming as good as he
had been bad, living to make all others happy, and devoted in every way
to his family. And thereby he became for the first time truly contented.
* * * * *
Six months passed, and one night at twelve o’clock, on awaking, he saw
before him Geronio, who no longer seemed to suffer as before, though
there was still in his eyes something terrible.
“How is it with thee?” asked Adelone.
“Far better. Come with me.”
Then Adelone found himself in a great castle, which seemed like a free
prison, which was grim and without comfort. Many souls were in it, but
they were walking about together, or resting and conversing, apparently
in no suffering. It was a joyless place, but not one of torture, nor was
it filthy. {57}
“We do not suffer so much here,” said Geronio. “We have still much
remorse, but at least we have the consolation of being able to converse
one with another, and enjoy sympathy in sorrow.”
“What do you talk about?” asked Adelone.
“Chiefly about the people whom we hope will set us free. I talk of thee,
because all my hope is in thee. I think of nothing else by day or
night.”
Then Adelone returned to his home. After six months he beheld Geronio
again. Again he found himself in a castle, but the spirits were
conversing happily, many were singing hymns, they had guitars and
mandolins, and here and there were vases of flowers which gave forth
delightful perfume.
Geronio said to him:
“Here we are happier still, and, believe me, friend, if thou canst in
this life make others as good as thou art, to love their relations and
friends, and cease to be selfish, thereby everyone can save another soul,
and win great reward for himself.”
Adelone replied:
“I truly will do all I can to content thee.”
From that day he did all that he could, not only to do good himself, but
to cause others to act like him. Six months after this Geronio came to
him and said:
“Now that I know that thou art truly good, learn that I am at peace. And
as thou hast been the means of giving it to others, know that in future
all good spirits will aid thee!”
It is not enough not to be a sinner. He who does not take care and pains
and labour earnestly to make others happy will be punished as an
evil-doer. He who does not love (us) is an enemy.
* * * * *
It is to be remarked in this, as in all the other tales from the same
sources, when a moral end or plot is to be worked out, it is done without
benefit of clergy or aid of priest, or the Church. For these are legends
of the witches and wizards, who have ever been the foes, and consequently
the hated and afflicted, of the orthodox. It is a curious reflection
that as it has been said that the last savage in America will die with
the last Indian, so the _strega_, or witch, will remain to the end a
heathen. And I find curious emotion in the thought that what I have
gathered, or am gathering, with such care, is the last remainder of
antique heathenism in Europe. Superstitions there are everywhere, but in
this kind Italy is alone.
VIRGIL AND DORIONE, or THE MAGIC VASE.
I have a vase in which I daily throw
All scraps and useless rubbish—oh that I
Had one wherein to cast away all thoughts,
Imaginations, dreams and memories
Which haunt and vex the soul, to disappear
For ever, lost in fast forgetfulness!
That were a vase indeed, and worth far more
Than that which forms the subject of this tale.
Many centuries ago there was in Naples a young man named Dorione, who
studied magic, and his master was a great sorcerer named Virgil. One
evening Dorione found himself in company with friends, and there was
present another wizard named Belsevo. {58} Now, there was not bread
enough in the house for supper for all.
“Never mind,” remarked Belsevo. “He who hath art will find his bread in
any part. Observe me.”
Taking a large vase, he turned it upside down and said:
“Viene pane!
Abbiamo fame;
Dimmi o Cerere del pane!
Se questa grazia mi farai,
Sempre fedele a te sarai.”
“Come, bread, to me,
For hungry are we!
Oh, Ceres, give us bread!
Grant me this grace benign,
And I will be ever thine!”
Then he removed the vase, and there were on the table eight small loaves.
Then Belsevo said to Dorione:
“Canst thou not give us wine for the bread, O scholar of the grand master
Virgil?”
But Dorione, being only a beginner in magic, could not effect such a
miracle, and was much ashamed because all laughed at him.
The next morning Dorione told what had happened to Virgil.
“Well didst thou deserve,” replied the master, “to be thus scoffed at and
jeered, for a young magician should never play tricks at a table like a
juggler to amuse fools. But thou hast been sufficiently punished, and to
please thee I will give thee a fine present. And if thou canst not make
bread come, thou shalt at least have the power to make it and other
things disappear. I will give thee this vase of bronze. It is but
small, as thou seest, but tell any object, however large, to disappear in
it, then the vase will swallow it. Thou shalt keep for thyself in secret
a house somewhere, and whatever the vase may swallow thou wilt find it in
the house, however distant thou mayst be from it. Only say, ‘Go into the
vase!’ and by the vase it will be swallowed up. But thou shalt never use
it to steal, or for any dishonest purpose. So long as thou art honest it
will serve, and none shall rob thee of it. And if that should come to
pass, call to it and it will return to thee.”
Then Dorione took the vase, and thanked the grand master Virgil. After a
time the scholar went on a long journey. Dorione possessed a small
castle in a remote place in the mountains of Tuscany, and in it was a
secret vault. “There,” he said, “I will send all that the vase may
swallow. Many a thing may be come by honestly, if one knew how to send
it away and where to put it.
“‘He who hath a cage, I’ve heard,
In time will surely get a bird.’”
It came to pass that he became the secretary of a certain lord, who, like
many of the brave gentry of his time, was ever at war with somebody,
plundering or being plundered, every one in his turn, as fortune
favoured.
“Up on the top of the hill to-day,
Down in the dale to-morrow;
Oft in the morning happy and gay,
After a night of sorrow;
For some must fall that others may rise,
And the swallow goes chirping as she flies.”
One evening his master heard a trumpet afar, and, looking forth, seemed
suddenly startled, like a man in great alarm. Pointing to a splendid
suit of armour, he said:
“Seest thou that armour, Dorione? It is worth ten thousand crowns, and I
would give ten thousand it were this instant in hell. I took it in a
raid from the Grand Duke, and he will be here in ten minutes with all his
men. If he finds the armour I shall lose my head. And there, too, is an
iron chest full of gold and jewels—all plunder, and all in evidence
against me.”
“If you will give it to me,” answered Dorione, “I will make it all vanish
in an instant.”
“Yea, I give it with all my heart; but be quick about it, for the Grand
Duke and his soldiers are at the gate, and I feel the rope round my
neck!”
Then Dorione brought his vase in a minute, and uttered the conjuration:
“Vattene via! Vattene via!
Roba bella, cosa mia!
Vai nell’ istante al mio castello!
Apri la bocca, vaso bello!”
“Hasten away! Begone! begone!
All ye fine things which are now mine own,
Fly to my castle—never pause;
Beautiful vase, now open thy jaws.”
And in an instant the armour and chest went flying into the vase and
disappeared.
Just as they vanished the Duke and his men entered, but though they
sought in every cranny they found nothing; and so, having come for a
bargain of wool, went away shorn, {60} as the proverb says.
“Thou hast saved my life,” said the Signore. “God only knows how you ran
away with the things, but you are welcome to them. Truly I was glad to
get them, but a thousand times better pleased to see them go.”
One day the Signore and Dorione found themselves in a battle together,
sore beset and separated from all their troop. They were in extremest
danger of being killed. {61} When all at once there came an idea to
Dorione, who had his vase slung to his side like a canteen. He
pronounced the spell, ordering all the arms in the hands of the enemy to
fly through the vase to his castle. In an instant swords and spears,
daggers and battle-axes, had left their owners, who stood unarmed and
amazed. So the two were saved.
The Signore took a great deal of booty, and rewarded Dorione very
liberally, the more so because he was greatly delighted to see the gifts
disappear in the vase—no matter what, all was fish to that net, and all
the sheep black—and Dorione liked to please his kind master, especially
in this way. Yes, to amuse him he would often wish away a gold-hilted
and jewelled sword or helm from an enemy, and was pleased to hear the
brave old knight laugh to see the things fly.
The generosity of the lord stopped, however, at a certain point. He had
a beautiful daughter whom Dorione loved, _alla follia_, to distraction,
but the father would not consent to bestow her on him. But it came to
pass that one day the castle was besieged by a vast force, which spared
neither man, woman nor child, and it seemed plain that the besieged must
yield. The lord bade Dorione to cause the arms of the enemy to vanish.
“This time,” replied his secretary, “I cannot do it. The fame of my vase
or of my power has spread far and wide, and the enemy have had their arms
enchanted by a mighty sorcerer, so that I cannot take them.”
They fought on until of all the garrison only Dorione, with the lord and
his daughter, were left alive. They were in extremity.
“And now,” thought Dorione, “something must be done, for there is many a
wolf at the door. Let me see whether I cannot make the young lady go
into my vase, and then her father.” So, bringing them together, he said:
“Signora bella, signora mia!
La più bella che su questa terra sia!
Ti prego—subito, subito,
Di qua vattene via!
Vai nell istante al mio castello,
Vi troverai un vaso bello,
Che la sua bocca aprira,
E li dentro ti salvera!”
“Lovely lady, lady mine own,
The fairest whom earth has ever known;
Fly in a hurry, oh, fly away!
Leave the castle—flit while you may,
And off to my distant shelter flee!
The beautiful vase is ready for thee,
Who will open her mouth to take you in.
Safe you will be when once within!”
In a second, ere the eye could follow, the young lady was whirled away
mysteriously, and, the conjuration being repeated, then her father.
After which Dorione prayed to the spirit of the vase, who was no other
than Saint Virgil himself, {62a} to save him also. And in an instant he
felt himself swallowed up like a bean in the mouth of a horse. And as
soon he found himself in the vault of the castle with the lady and her
father. And they were amazed, in looking about, to see what wealth was
there gathered up, for Dorione had been very industrious in many a battle
in sending arms and booty to his home.
Then all three, joining hands, danced and sang for joy to find themselves
safe, Dorione and the lady doing the most rejoicing, because the lord had
promptly said:
“After this you may get married.” And they had the wedding that night.
The good lord, as a proof of affection and esteem for Dorione, pronounced
an oration of regret as a penance on himself for not having sooner
consented to the nuptials, ending with these words: “And now let everyone
here present drink a cask of wine, and get as drunk as a tile, or four
fiddlers.” {62b}