MALAGIGI
Next morning I called on the buffo in his workshop. His two combustible
Turkish pavilions were finished, ready to be fired by Ettorina, and he
was full of his devils. I inquired why we were doing Guido Santo so
soon; it was only a year since my last visit to Palermo, when I had
witnessed his lamented end after a fortnight of starvation in prison,
and, at this rate, the story would be over in fourteen months instead of
lasting eighteen. The buffo said they had made the experiment of
shortening it. If one has to shorten a story, probably the _Paladins of
France_ with its continuations would suffer less from the process than
many others. At all events it could scarcely grow longer, as a work of
art so often does when one tries to shorten it.
The devils were naturally among the dramatis personae of the teatrino,
but they had to be got ready and repaired and provided with all things
necessary for them to make the subterranean road. I said:
"I am not sure that I quite followed all you told me last night."
"There was perhaps a little confusion?" he inquired apologetically.
"Not at all," I replied politely; "but I never heard of Argantino before.
Did you say he was the son of Malagigi?"
"That is right. He did not happen to be at Roncisvalle, so he was not
killed with Orlando and the other paladins. An angel came to him and
said, 'Now the Turks will make much war against the Christians and, since
the Christians always want a magician, it is the will of heaven that you
shall have the rod of Malagigi, who is no longer here, and that Guido
Santo shall have la Durlindana, the sword of Orlando.' And it was so,
and Argantino thereafter appeared as a pilgrim."
"I remember about Malagigi; he made all Rinaldo's armour."
"Excuse me, he made some of his armour; but he did not make his helmet,
nor his sword Fusberta, nor his horse Baiardo. First you must know that
Rinaldo was one of the four brothers, sons of Amone, and their sister was
Bradamante."
"I saw her die at Trapani. The Empress Marfisa came and found her dying
of grief in a grotto for the loss of her husband, Ruggiero da Risa."
"Precisely. She was Marfisa's sister-in-law because she married
Marfisa's brother Ruggiero da Risa."
"Then who was the cavaliere errante, Ruggiero Persiano?"
"He was the son of Marfisa and Guidon Selvaggio, and this Guidon
Selvaggio was the son of Rinaldo."
"Had Bradamante no children?"
"Guido Santo is the son of Bradamante and Ruggiero da Risa."
"I heard something about Guido Santo at Castellinaria the other day--let
me see, what was it? Never mind. I hope he left children."
"I told you last year that he never married."
"Oh yes, of course; that is what I was thinking of. One cannot remember
everything at once and pedigrees are always confusing at first. Then it
is for love of Bradamante's nephew by marriage, Ruggiero Persiano, that
Ettorina has now gone mad?"
"Bravo. And Malagigi was Bradamante's cousin."
"How was that?"
"Amone had a brother Buovo, and Malagigi was the son of Buovo. Therefore
Malagigi was the cousin of Rinaldo and of Bradamante. And that is all
you need know about the pedigree for the present. Malagigi was Emperor
of Magic. Other magicians only commanded a devil or two each, but
Malagigi dominated all the hosts of the inferno, all the devils, harpies,
serpents, gorgons, hydras, furies and also the monster Briareus."
"Just as the buffo dominates all the marionettes in the teatrino," I
interpolated.
He bowed and proceeded: "Rinaldo's helmet used to belong to Mambrino."
"I have read about it in _Don Quixote_."
"Ah! but that was not a real helmet; that was only a barber's basin
because Cervantes wanted to laugh at Don Quixote. Rinaldo slew Mambrino
and took his helmet, but Mambrino was a giant and his helmet was too
large for Rinaldo, so Malagigi took it down into the laboratory of the
inferno and altered it to fit."
"And do the audience see all that done on the stage?"
"Most of it; and what they do not see they imagine. Fusberta, Rinaldo's
sword, formerly belonged to another giant, Atlante. Malagigi always
intended it for Rinaldo, but he was a wise magician and knew that people
do not value things unless they pay for them, so he would not let him
have it till he had earned it by killing Atlante."
"It's rather like what you told me last year about Orlando's dream and
his going to the river-bank where Carlo Magno and that other giant,
Almonte, were fighting, and his killing Almonte and his taking his sword
and horse and armour."
"I did not say that Orlando had a dream; it was Carlo Magno who had the
dream about a young man whom he did not know, and I told you that
afterwards, when Orlando came and helped him to fight Almonte, Carlo
Magno recognised him as the young man in his dream."
"Sorry, Buffo; my mistake. But it is rather like it, isn't it?"
"About his taking the giant's sword it is rather like it, but that is not
a bad thing in the teatrino, the people must not be puzzled by too much
variety."
Then he told me about Baiardo, Rinaldo's horse, who formerly belonged to
Amadigi di Gaula, to whom he was given by Berliante, another magician,
who found him in the desert. After the death of Amadigi, Berliante chose
but seven devils, put them inside Baiardo and turned him loose in the
forest, saying: "This horse can only be dominated by a man as strong as
Amadigi." After this, several things happened, of which I only remember
that Baiardo kicked all the sense out of Isolier, a Spanish cavalier who
was trying to tame him with his sword, not knowing the right way to do
it, and a nameless Englishman was involved in a duel. At last Rinaldo
came and, after working hard at Baiardo for an hour, struck him a blow
between the eyes with his mailed fist and thus tamed him. Then Rinaldo
mounted him and boasted of his triumph, shouting in his humorous way:
"Now Baiardo is carrying eight devils."
"And so you see Rinaldo getting Baiardo is not at all like Orlando
getting his horse Vegliantino; besides, Baiardo is red, the colour of
fire, and Vegliantino is white all over, without one black hair."
"Why do you call Orlando's horse Vegliantino? Last year he was
Brigliadoro."
"One moment, if you please. Almonte called him Brigliadoro because he
had a golden bridle; but when Orlando took him he called him Vegliantino
because he was so wide-awake--only slept with one eye at a time--always
kept the other open. You have good horses also in England. I read in
the _Giornale di Sicilia_ that your King Edward has a good horse who won
the great race this year, but I do not remember his name. It was not a
reasonable name."
"The name was Minoru. Do you think that a bad name for a good horse?"
"I think Vegliantino is better."
"Perhaps it is. Let us return to Malagigi. Are you not going to tell me
why he is no longer giving the Christians the benefit of his services as
magician?"
So he told me about Malagigi, who, it seems, had a quarrel with Carlo
Magno, in the course of which Malagigi boasted:
"You are the Emperor of the World, but I am the Emperor of the Inferno."
Carlo Magno did not quite like this and responded by cursing Malagigi,
saying that he would not go to heaven when he died. One would think that
Malagigi must have had the substance of this remark addressed to him
before by persons who had not troubled to wrap it up in the imperial
language employed by Carlo Magno. If so, it had never made any
impression on him, but now he began to think there might be something in
it. He had been a good man on the whole and a Christian, nevertheless,
as a sorcerer he had no doubt diabolised a little too freely. To be on
the safe side, he determined to repent and, as these things do not get
over the footlights unless they are done in the grand manner, he began by
burning his magical books, all except one, and they were the books of
Merlin, whose disciple he had been. He next dropped his name of
Malagigi, because it had been given him by the devils in council, and
called himself Onofrio. He still kept on terms with his confidential
private devil, Nacalone, whom he now summoned and to whom he spoke these
words:
"Convey me to some peaceful shore where I may repent of my sins and die
of grief in a grotto."
When we came to this--I could not help it, I was full of small complaints
that morning--I exclaimed:
"But, my dear Buffo, this makes consecutive fifths with his cousin
Bradamante dying of grief in the grotto at Trapani."
He admitted that it would have been better if one of them had had the
originality to die in bed as a Christian or an ordinary man does, or to
be killed in mortal combat, but there it was, it was the will of heaven
and could not be altered. It seemed rather an invitation to the
shortener of the story, but the same people do not come to the theatre
every night and those who had missed the death of Bradamante would be
pleased to see Malagigi die.
The nearest peaceful shore with a suitable grotto known to Nacalone
happened to be in Asia; he put his master on his back and flew off with
him apologising for carrying him so far, but there was not really much
trouble about it, because his wings were strong and the journey was
accomplished in safety.
Malagigi sat repenting in his Asian grotto, like S. Gerolamo in the
pictures. He found a stone with a hole in it into which he stuck a cross
made of two pieces of wood tied together with dried grass, and to this
cross he prayed. In the intervals of prayer and repentance he gathered
the herb malva, dried it, powdered it, mixed it with water into paste,
formed it into cakes, baked them in the sun and ate them. When his time
came, he died, and gradually his corpse became a skeleton, but his spirit
still dwelt within because it was so ordained. His dying did not
surprise me--to be born is to enter upon the path which even magicians
must tread and which leads to the inevitable door--nor was I alarmed
about his spirit remaining inside his skeleton--it gave him a touch of
originality after all and differentiated his death from that of
Bradamante whose soul I had seen extracted by an angel; but I could not
help being seriously uneasy about his burning all his books. Each book
had a devil chained inside it, and when Malagigi opened a book its devil
used to appear for instructions. As long as he was repenting, they might
perhaps be trusted to behave themselves; but after his death, in spite of
its being somewhat equivocal, I was afraid that all these devils, and
Merlin had an extensive library, would escape and be free to do as they
chose. The buffo assured me, however, that no harm would come of it, and
as he knew what was ordained by the will of heaven I was ready to take
his word; besides, there was still the one unburnt book and this was the
home of Nacalone, who might be powerful enough to avert disasters. So
Malagigi's body remained in the grotto, dead and yet not dead.
Then a time came when his son Argantino happened to be travelling in Asia
with his second cousin Guido Santo. Accompanied by Costanzo, a Turk,
whom Argantino had defeated and baptised, the two knights came to the
dreadful enchanted grotto and entered it to see whether perhaps it might
contain anything good to eat. Costanzo did not enter, they sent him off
to collect a quantity of wood to make a fire because it was a chilly
evening. When their eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, they
discerned a tomb whereon was this inscription:
IN HOC LOCO PAX.
Guido knelt down to pray, saying: "I perceive here a sepulchre."
"Yes," replied Argantino kneeling by his side; "I wonder who in this
peaceful grotto is sleeping his last long sleep."
Presently the tomb opened by a miracle and a voice disturbed their
devotions:
"Malagigi parlera."
The two cousins trembled with horror as a skeleton rattled up from the
sepulchre and spoke thus:
"I am the great magician Malagigi, and in obedience to the command of
heaven my spirit has here waited for this day. To you, O my son
Argantino! I confide the one book of magic which remains to me. To you,
O Guido! I confide the horse Sfrenato."
Here he delivered the two compliments to the two paladins; but for the
moment Sfrenato took the magical book and carried it in his mouth as a
cat carries her kitten.
"And now, listen to me. Terrible times are in store for the Christians
and it is God's ordinance that you two shall preserve the faith. Swear
to me therefore, O Guido! that you will"--and so forth.
When he had concluded his address, his prophetic spirit was exhausted, as
might perhaps have been anticipated, for the speech was of portentous
length, and the skeleton clattered down again into the tomb, which closed
by another miracle while a ball of fire ran along upon the ground across
the stage and back again. Then Guido took his oath and spoke thus to
Argantino:
"Let us now depart. And you Turks! all of you, tremble! for Guido shall
be your destruction."
With this he vaulted upon Sfrenato, who curveted and whinnied with joy at
recognising his master. And so the two paladins continued their journey;
but before leaving the neighbourhood they naturally made arrangements
with the local marble-mason to have the tomb closed in a proper and
hygienic manner.
"And all this," said the buffo, "happened only last Friday, and why did
you not come in time to see it? It was very emotional."