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. 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, 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. 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, {a} 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.” {b}