 | The Africans ; or, War, Love, and Duty |  |
SCENE I.
—The Town of Fatteconda, in Bondou, a district of Africa, inhabited by the Foulahs, and situate between the rivers Senegal and Gambia—a large tract of romantic Country beyond the town—a Hut, L. S. E.— The horizon is very faintly tinged with the rays of the sun, which grow stronger till the sun is completely risen.Selico discovered leaning against a tree, R.
Sel.
Rise, orb of light!—those streaks, thy harbingers,
Are sluggish glowworms on the mountain's brow;—
Thy bird, the eagle, mourns; and constant dawn,
Whom thou wert wont to press with hasty fire,
Weeps dew, in token of thy love's neglect,
Thou follow'st her so slow.—Though oft, ere noon,
Faint from thy influence I seek the shade,
Come sun, and scorch me now!—dart thy full beams
O'er Afric's sands upon me!—bring me day!
Bring me to my Berissa—to my bride!
[Torribal puts his head through an aperture in the hut, L. S. E.
Tor.
Selico!
Sel.
Ha, Torribal! what say you?
Tor.
That the sun don't rise sooner for your bawling,—
But I do!—so I'll come and speak to you.
He disappears.
Sel.
Close to a brake, I've seen a playful lion
Pawing his fellow whelp;—'tis rough diversion,
Much like my brother's wit. Well, he loves me—
We're brother lions, but I the tamest!
Enter Torribal, from the hut, L. S. E.
Tor.
Now, Selico, my younger brother!—Soon
They'll beat the tabala, to tell us all
That you will soon be married.
10
Ay, ay,
With the consent of our loved mother,
And with the sanction of our good priest
Farulho, father of my bride Berissa.
Pr'ythee, what then?
Tor.
Why, then, 'tis to be hoped
You won't for sun-beams hunt so soon to-morrow
As to-day, lest your sweet bride should sour.
Sel.
Still, brother, you will mock.
Tor.
Mock!—Oh, not I!—
Love is a pretty pastime;—and last night,
'Neath the tabba tree, in our market place,
Did I harangue the people on your nuptials.
Sel.
'Twas kind. What said you?
Tor.
Africans! said I,—
Townsmen of Fatteconda, here in Bondou,
Between the Senegal and Gambia,
We Foulahs are the prettiest of the negroes—
The same sun that dyes our neighbours black,
Feloops, Mandingoes, Jaloops, and the rest,
Hath tinged us Foulahs lighter by ten shades.
Berissa is the prettiest maid amongst us;
My brothers are the prettiest of our tribe;
And brother Selico—except myself—
The handsomest of all our family.
So pray this loving couple's love may last
A little longer than my wedding-speech.
[Crosses to R.
Sel.
A speech of scoff and ribaldry!—my heart
Grieves that it cannot thank you. Side by side,
When first I followed you into the wars,
(A stripling I, you season'd in the fight)
Remember, Torribal—
Tor.
That you fought well.
Sel.
No, no, not that,—but that you saved my life.
You saw the arrow coming, and your arm,
Guarding my breast, received it.—In your flesh
It quiver'd, and ne'er scarr'd the youth you clasped.—
You wrenched the barb, reeking from your sinews,
And, smiling, you exclaimed, “They must not wound
My little brother Selico!”
Tor.
Umph!—Did I?
Sel.
Yes, Torribal: you may forget, I cannot.
But pr'ythee think, good brother, though thy hand
Taking Torribal's hand.
11
May deeply—very deeply, wound my heart.
Tor.
I hate all honey-mouth—all flattery!
Young men may marry; there's no harm in that.
What's one wife? our laws allows us plenty.
But, to desert a mother—
Sel.
What? desert!
You touch me to the quick! the very wolf
Feels there the tie of nature! Our mother
Rejoices in my—Prophet Mahomet!
Whom Afric's converts worship!—who shall say
I leave a mother in the hour of need?
Could I, who—
Madiboo
is seen crossing in the distance, from L. to R., winding round a pathway on a hill, and singing, till he is hid by the intervening bushes.
Kouskous and sinkatoo, for king Ali Beg, oh!
But Serawooli king he eat antelope's leg, oh!
Sing shannawang, sing sharrawang,
Sing shongo!
Tor.
Over the hills comes Madiboo, our brother:
He went before the moon sunk to fetch home
Provision by the dawn.
Sel.
He will not say,
While you and he remain, and I at hand,
I left a mother destitute.
Tor.
Not he!—
He never thinks—mad-pates have no morrow.
His scull holds just enough to oil his limbs,
And make him active. Then he runs a field,
Shoots paroquets, and snares the red-legg'd partridge;
Hastes back, incumber'd with more game than brains,
And so we go to dinner.
Sel.
Still unjust.
His frame, robust and pliant, boasts a nature
Well suited to it, for 'tis bold yet yielding—
Fierce to his foe as panther's. But the dove,
Who wings her anxious journey home with food,
Returns not to her young with more delight,
Than he comes laden to his family.
The strong, but generous sovereign of the woods,
And the spring lamb that frolics on the green,
Have mingled both their qualities in him.
Tor.
Enough.
12
Not quite.—They who have brains enough
To prompt them honestly to use their limbs,
And work a living for their humble homes,
Are neither fools nor burthens in a nation.
Enter Madiboo, singing, carrying corn and game, R.
Good wife had Kickawick,—she drowny one night, oh!
But Kickawick no fish again, for fear him wife bite, oh!
Sing shannawang, &c.
Mad.
[Putting down the different articles near the door.]
There's maize,—I'll throw it into the paloon
And pound it for my mother's kouskous pudding,—
And there are partridges; ground nuts, and rice;
And three fat guinea fowls.—I shot them, Selico,
For your bride's father.
Tor.
(R.) [Sneeringly.]
Ay, priests love good eating.
Mad.
(C.)
Bless all their jolly chops! I love to see—
When there's a wedding dinner—the good old man,
Who joined the couple, smiling at the feast.
Tor.
Well, let them gorge.
Sel.
(L.) [Warmly.]
Farulho is no glutton.
Mad.
[Looking at his brother.]
A glutton!—Oh! I see—the old work!
You have been fretting him about Berissa—
And on the wedding-day, too, Torribal!
Come, come, this is not kind.
Tor.
[Sulkily.]
It all began
In a good joke.
Mad.
[Laughing.]
Then you did not begin it.
You are, 'tis certain, as incapable
Of a good joke, as an owl is of singing.
Tor.
Why, how now, Madiboo!—you bird-catcher!
Hunt and be dumb! your wit lies in your heels.
Mad.
And where lies yours? Your muddy jibes are like
The frisking of an elephant,—you trample,
And fancy you have caper'd! I have mark'd you,
A thousand times, tormenting Selico—
Dashing your gall—which you call pleasantry—
Upon his milky spirit, 'till his heart
Has ached with pain, and mine has boil'd with anger!
Tor.
I tell you, fool, I jested.
Mad.
Jested, did you?
Why, you are grown, of late, as bright as lead—
As comical as malice! and cut as keen
As any rusty hatchet, notched!
[Pointing to Selico.
13
You jeer a brother as the Moorish chief
Treated a neighbour at a merry-making:
He cried, “I'll tickle you!” and chopp'd his head off.
Sel.
[Crossing to C., stepping between them, and taking their hands.]
Peace, I entreat you! pray let us be friends!
We outrage, else, our parent's tenderness;
Who, left in widow'd poverty, wept o'er us;
Toil'd in her sickness, fasting while we fed,
And clung to life, only to rear her babes!
When brothers are at variance, could they think
On the fond tear a mother shed on them,
That woke their slumbers while their infant arms
Circled each other's neck, 'twould surely quench
All sparks of strife within their breasts for ever.
Mad.
[Affected.]
My sparks are all gone out; [To Torribal.]
and, goodman Gruff,
When you're extinguish'd, say so, and be friends.
Tor.
[Crossing, and holding out his hand.]
There then!
Mad.
[Shaking it.]
And there!
Sel.
That's as it should be.
Darina.
[Calling without, L.
Selico!
Mad.
Our mother calls you—run!
Sel.
I come, good mother.
[Exit into the hut, L. S. E.
Tor.
He talks it well.
Mad.
Who?—he?
Tor.
Ay, Selico.
But if he bears us all such loads of love,
Why does he quit us?
Mad.
Why?—to take a wife.
Tor.
Ay, the priest's daughter; she is rich and grand,—
Else why not bring her to our little family?
Mad.
Because, 'tis like, she'll have a little family;
And then, in time, the cabin would not hold us.
Tor.
This mother, whom we work for now she's old—
Mad.
[Emphatically.]
Ay, and who work'd for us when she was young!
Tor.
Well,—her he leaves, and goes—
Mad.
A stone's throw off;—
How barbarous! [Pointing off, L.]
There stands the house he'll live in!
He'll not be able, now, to visit her
Above ten times a-day.
Tor.
Well, well,—his labour
Falls on us now; and added to our own—
14
We shall be kill'd; we're both such puny children!
Tor.
Psha! If 'tis right to-marry, then how comes it
He marries first?
Mad.
Oh! are you thereabouts?
Now it comes out you want a wife yourself,—
You would be billing, would you?—oh, you sly one!
Tor.
Not I!—but he's the youngest—
Mad.
That's the reason!
Girls always like the youngest best, that's certain.
Tor.
As things fall out—
Mad.
Come, come, don't you fall out,
When things fall out just as we might expect them.
I shoot, you till the garden, for our mother.
To gain a daily blessing for her, Selico
Has paid a daily visit to our priest.
Tor.
Well?
Mad.
When your corn and vegetables sprout,
Do pretty girls sprout with them?
Tor.
No, not one.
Mad.
And when I've been upon the hunt for birds,
I never once put a priest's daughter up!
But Selico went in the way of beauty;
And she, whom he soon loved, loved him. What said
Her father—good old soul!—the priest Farulho?
Just this—“The filial heart of Selico
Bespeaks him good, and he shall have my girl.
An honest husband is a wife's best wealth.
A rich wife helps a poor and kindly son
To cheer an aged widow and a mother.”
When every match is made upon this plan,
Family quarrels won't be quite so common.
Tor.
Perhaps I've been too bitter.
Mad.
Worse than wormwood.
We want no home disturbers of the wedding;
Others may come, that—
Tor.
Others!
Mad.
Yes;—but first swear not to blab.
Tor.
I promise.
Mad.
Your promise
Is so unlike your joke, that I can take it.
Listen, then!—The Mandingo king, 'tis thought,
Will take us by surprise.
Tor.
The usual way of war, among our nations.
Mad.
Coming home, I saw among the thickets
A party of Mandingoes, arm'd in ambush.
15
The army's then at hand. [Going, R.]
I'll raise our people!
Mad.
[Catching him by the arm.]
As sure as you attempt to raise the people,
I take you by surprise, and trip your heels up.
You'll mar the wedding!
Tor.
Yes, but are you mad?
Mad.
Be calm! 'twas but a straggling party. We have time,
Before the main force comes, to give alarm,
So let us have the marriage over.
Tor.
But if—
Mad.
Nay, be ruled; the very moment
Our brother has secured his bride, we'll rouse
The town.
Tor.
Agreed.
Mad.
The time will be but short;
And then—Hush! here's our mother; not a word!
Enter Darina, from the hut, L. S. E., with a mantle an her arm.
Tor. & Mad.
Bless our dear mother!
Dar.
Blessings on my children!
On this day double blessings! for it brings
Joy to my youngest born; and, therefore, joy
To both his brothers. Oh! the drops that now
Steal on my cheek are sweet as morning gems;
For my heart's sunshine sparkles in my eye,
And grateful is the dew that glitters there.
Mad.
Come, 'tis full time that we should to the priest;
The bride will grow impatient.
Dar.
I shall follow;
And, as our custom is, the marriage over,
We'll join you at the feast.
Mad.
Good.
Brother Torribal, do you go with us?
[While Darina is unfolding the mantle, Madiboo whispers Torribal.
Don't!—Remain at home to guard our mother.
If any of the stragglers come to skirmish,
Fight like a devil till I come to back you.
Tor.
[Apart to Madiboo.]
Enough! [Aloud.]
Away, Madiboo! I shall stop
16
Then, mother, you and I can go together.
[He takes up the articles that Madiboo had put down, and exits into the hut, L. S. E.
Re-enter Selico, from the hut, L. S. E.
Sel.
Now, mother, once more bless me, and I go.
Dar.
Stay, Selico; present this to Farulho.
Mad.
A curious mantle that.
Dar.
[Giving it to Selico.]
The widow's offering,
On her son's marriage, to the good old priest.
Say, while she work'd it, many and many a prayer
Of gratitude, burst from Darina's lips,
For him who thus has bless'd her and her son.
Sel.
Embrace me, mother; and our prophet guard you!
[They embrace.
Mad.
[Aside.]
My mind misgives me;—should the foe arrive
Before we—hum! [Aloud.]
Now, good mother, farewell!
You'll come to dinner?
Der.
Yes,—to find all happy.
Mad.
Ay, to be sure! The priest will have his game,
And that will make him happy; Selico
Will have Berissa, that will make them happy;
And Torribal stays here to come with you,
So you two will be happy.—Oh, there never
Were such a set of happy, happy people,
As we shall be to-day, in Africa!
Come, Selico! come! Farewell, good mother!
[Exeunt, Madiboo and Selico R., Darina into the hut, L. S. E.
| The Africans ; or, War, Love, and Duty | |