University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—The Camp of the Mandingo King—preparations for an execution—a pile of faggots, R., another, L.,—and various implements of torture.
Selico, Guards, Executioners, and a crowd, discovered.
Sel.
Nay, do not torture me before my time.
Your king, who means to see my parting
Agonies, has not yet arrived. Then stand
Aloof, ye ministers who execute
The sentences of power! How need must warp
Poor human nature, when a man turns jailer.
No one, sure, first made it his election,
To live on his fellow-creature's sorrows.
Oh! how flinty must his office make him,
If, when his petty sway might mitigate
The prisoner's woe, he doubles it!
Is that the stake where I am doom'd to die?

Second E.
Ay;—
And the partner of your crime dies with you.

Sel.
Oh, poor soul! Death in a conqueror's camp,
Is swift in visitation; gives no time,
As oft he will round pallets of the sick,
For leave-takings, and kindly offices;—
Else would I strive to calm her flutter'd spirit,
Support the sinking trembler, and, with
A fellow-sufferer's firmness, cheer her up.

Second E.
[Advancing to Selico.]
Prisoner, our faiths differ; few Mandingoes
Profess your creed, and follow Mahomet.
You may think me cruel, but you wrong me.
If, in the camp, there's a Mahometan
You wish to pray by you, I'll find him out,
And bring him hither.

Sel.
Thank you, heartily.
There's no religion, as I think, on earth,
In which weak man can not exclaim, “The worship
I was born to, others may reject.”
But, while I glow with charity for all,
I trust, howe'er my heart pours out a prayer
I may, at last, obtain my Maker's mercy.

Second E.
Say, can I serve you?

Sel.
No, good fellow, no!
[The Executioner retreats some paces, and Selico kneels.
Dear spirit of my murder'd love! if e'er
It be allowed mortality to soar
Into the breast of Heaven, and look down
On what is left below,—behold me meet
Death's agony in smiles!—Soon we may wander
In airy blessedness:—no battle-axe
Can sunder love in those pure realms of bliss;
No ravagers of war can butcher age,
Or pinch with famine. Prophet Mahomet!
Scorn not the prayer of a poor African!

[Rises.
[Muffled drum, and flourish.
Second E.
Hark—hark! the Mandingo king approaches!

Enter Demba Sega Jalla, and Attendants, L. U. E.— the music plays as they march down the lines of the camp—the King places himself on an elevated seat, R. C.
Dem.
Criminal, some have said 'tis my nature
To be too lavish in decrees of death;
They say I wanton, too, in shedding blood:
Therefore, I come, that you, yourself, may own
Your sentence just.

Sel.
More just than merciful.

Dem.
Can justice, then, be call'd unmerciful?

Sel.
Justice and Mercy are distinct; when join'd,
'Tis sweet to see the mild companion smooth
Its stern associate's brow; and when the sword
Is lifted, smilingly present the sheath.
Atrocious guilt can hope for no indulgence!
But there are cases, where the judge's eye
May drop a tear on him whom he condemns;
And, when a king has power to sentence,
He might remember he has power to pardon.

Dem.
You stole into my camp; the laws of war
Pronounce it death.

Sel.
Ay, if I came a spy;—
But you have sentenced me on other grounds.
I skulk'd not hither, o'er my native plain,
That smokes with fire, and blood, to carry back
A vain intelligence to carcasses.
You dread no spy from towns you have subdued,
For there your plan is to exterminate.
In warfare you murder even infants
At shuddering womens' breasts, and silence
All fears of a reprise, by butchery.

Dem.
Bold wretch! you were received within the tent
Of her, who heard my love, and then disdain'd it—
My favourite slave of war,—my guard beheld you.

Sel.
He who is above all guards, beheld you
Tear all your slaves of war from every tie
Humanity holds dear, and still has spared you.

Dem.
Mine is the right of conquest.

Sel.
Conquest's right
Gives a true hero the delightful power
Of shewing conquest's generosity.
And what's your right? A battle gives it you.
What are the ties of those you pluck assunder?
Why, time and sympathy have knotted them:
And should you die instead of those you part,
It might be nobler justice.

Dem.
Witness, soldiers,
Your king's forbearance,—witness how I bear
These taunts with patience.

Sel.
Oh, mild murderer!
Every ally you plunder, owns your meekness.
Specious destroyer! amiable despot!
Domestic creature of the tiger breed,
Who pur upon your prey before you kill it!

Dem.
[To the Attendant.]
To execution! [To Selico.]
You have violated
A warrior's camp, and you must suffer.
Bring in the female prisoner.

First A.
She's here.

[Muffled drum.
Enter Berissa, in a veil, and trembling, L.—she is supported by two Females—Guards follow.—Selico's face is averted, contemplating the pile, R., whereon he is to suffer.
Dem.
Throw off the captive's veil.—She knows her fate.

Ber.
[Removing the veil.]
I do; and though I tremble, am resign'd.

Sel.
[Starting.]
Did I hear right?—her voice!—it cannot be! [Turning suddenly round..]
Berissa! [She utters a piercing shriek.]
She lives!—My love! my life!

[He runs to her, and they fall into each others arms.
Dem.
[To the Guards.]
Force them apart! The greatest outrage that
Man's pride endures, is when his love is scorn'd
By her he's knelt to, whom he might command;
And who, insults him to his face, by lavishing
Her fondness on his rival. 'Tis excess
Of female insult, thus to gall my heart.

Ber.
Hear me! I swear, by the holy prophet!
While bending o'er the awful brink of death,
Though one was in my tent, [Pointing to Selico.]
it was not he.

Sel.
[Aside.]
That's truly sworn; but proves her false as wantons.
Oh, mother, mother! 'tis for you alone
I now should wish to die.

Dem.
I'll not be fool'd
By female oaths. Did he not, e'en this instant,
Rush to your arms, while fervently you clasp'd him?
Nay, has he not himself made full confession?
Captive! you who disdain'd your conqueror's love—
You, whom I sued to share dominion with me,—
What motive, now, inspires you to deny
The guilt of your accomplice? Think you, thus,
To save him? If he be not culpable,
Then name the criminal.

Sel.
[Eagerly.]
Ay, ay! name him!

Ber.
Mark, king! This man's impetuosity
To hear the culprit named, proves him guiltless.

Dem.
That's doubtful;—but you can clear the mystery.

Ber.
Had I a thousand lives, and ev'ry life
Condemn'd to twenty thousand agonies,
I'd ne'er divulge the secret. Remember,
When you approach'd me with your selfish passion,
I then avow'd my heart no longer mine.
I dared not utter falsehood: think you now
I dare advance it, dying?—I repeat,
Innocent blood will lie upon your soul,
If he be sacrificed!

Dem.
Truth seems to gush
As purely from those lips, as bubbling streams
Forced from the fairest fountain. But—no, no!
Yon slave himself avow'd it. Set the piles
On fire, and lead the culprits to their fate!

Enter Four Executioners, with torches—two go to each pile and remain behind them—other Executioners prepare to bind the prisoners to the stakes.
Sel.
King, if a corner in thy beating heart
E'er held a drop of pity for the dying,
Grant me one word with yon poor sufferer.

Dem.
You scarce deserve it. Let them speak together.

[Selico and Berissa meet, C.
Sel.
Berissa, how I loved you know; how you
Have loved I doubt.

Ber.
That doubt, dear Selico,
Is worse than agonies of death.

Sel.
Indeed?

Ber.
Indeed!—Oh! if there be a secret,
I dare not tell, e'en you, at such a moment.
From the whole course of our pure, simple love,
Why should you think me faithless? But tell me,
How came you hither?

Sel.
We have no time for that.

Ber.
Say, then, you think me true; for I can swear—

Sel.
No, do not, love; your words are holy writ;
They're balm to me! Forgive my suspicions;
Your affirmation's everything. Oh, love!
This scene— [Drums rolls.]
We part—farewell!

Both.
Farewell!—farewell!

[They retire to the stakes—a noise is heard without.
Enter Farulho, rushing in hurriedly, L.
Far.
I will press forward, ere it be too late!
[Prostrates himself before the Kiag.
King! king! in me behold the real culprit—
A poor old man, who strove to steal his daughter.

Dem.
Your daughter!

Far.
Yes, that wretched girl is mine.
'Twas I that sought her tent—'twas I escaped
The muskets of her guard—she tried, in vain,
To follow her old father. Take your victim—
Save him, who is not guilty, and let me
Perish with her (if she must die) for whom
Only I wish to live,—my darling child!

Dem.
[To the Guards.]
Release them for a while.

[The prisoners come from the stakes.
Ber.
But for a while!
Then let me snatch this moment to embrace
My dear, dear father!

Far.
[Embracing her.]
Oh, my child! my child!

Dem.
[To Selico.]
Say, why did you avow yourself the culprit?

Sel.
Conqueror, to you, who make mens' dwellings ashes,
Domestic tales of woe, that follow triumphs,
Will not be pleasing.

Dem.
Speak!—I need not say
Speak boldly, you have spoken so already.

Sel.
The dying, wrung with griefs, will use some license
Towards those that wring them.

Dem.
You had an accuser,
Who brought you to the camp.

Sel.
He was my brother.

Dem.
Your brother!

Sel.
Yes.—Oh, king! you little think
On all that war, in its extremity,
Inflicts on nature. You approach'd with fire,
When peaceful joy was throbbing in our breasts;
When I was leading my loved bride to mosque.
She's there! the daughter of this good old man,
Our priest, revered by all. I thought them dead;
For in my search I found two headless bodies
Clad in their outward garments.

Far.
Did you so?
Alas! then, two poor faithful souls have perish'd,
In zeal for me and mine. My honest servant
Descried me,—“Fly, dear master, fly! give me
Your mantle—I am youngest; and your daughter
Shall change her dress for mine; and if they dare
Invade this sacred place, I'll pass myself
Upon them for the priest: then, should they battle,
I'm more stout than you—my girl less timid
Than your dear tender child.”—And so we fled:
But still I lost Berissa in the tumult;
Then traced her to the camp;—and my poor servants
Have fallen victims of their love for us.

Dem.
[Aside.]
I know not what it is about my heart,
That stirs me thus. In all my victories,
No tale of sorrow that I ever heard
Touch'd me so near as this.
[To Selico.]
Tell me—when you conceived these people dead,
Why were you rendered as a criminal—
And by your brother?

Sel.
To save a mother
From perishing with hunger, whom your fierce wars
Had driven to the woods. The sum you offer'd,
Would snatch her from the pangs of famine
To affluence; and I enforced my brother
To drag me hither, as a sacrifice.

Dem.
And knew she this?

Sel.
No.

Dem.
Her name?

Sel.
Darina.

Darina.
[Without, L.]
Guards, give way—and let me to the king!

Sel.
Ha! 'tis my mother's voice—they've told her all!

Enter Darina, L.—she rushes forward, and throws herself at the King's feet—Torribal and Madiboo follow her.
Dar.
King, pity a mother, and spare her son!

Tor.
Mother, be calm! 'tis not the way to soothe.

Mad.
Leave her alone! a mother's cries will pierce
A heart of flint,—let her alone, I say!

Dem.
Rise, woman! your suspense shall soon be o'er.
Where is the English merchant from our lines?

Merchant.
[Coming forward.]
Here!

Dem.
Merchant, have you attended to this process?

Mer.
I have.

Dem.
Then pr'ythee, merchant, tell me—you
Of wisdom and experience—you, who boast
A country, as they say, more civilized
By far, than mine—at how much would you rate
A man like this?

[Points to Selico.
Mer.
For his uncommon virtues,
At full a thousand crowns.

Dem.
I'll double that,
And give it to Berissa,—not to buy,
But to marry her faithful Selico.
[Selico and Berissa fall at Demba's feet.
Nay, rise, my heart was never moved till now.

Mad.
[Dancing and singing.]

My dear mother!—my
dear brother!—my good old priest! [Singing.]
I'm so
happy—I shall jump out of my skin for joy!

Enter Mug, with a long written paper in his hand, and Sutta under his arm, R.
Mug.

May it please your majesty, I have drawn up a
petition, which, as you never learned your A, B, C, according
to our English fashion, I will make bold to read to you.

Dem.

What is it, white man?

Mug.

Why, I have just heard of some poor condemned
folks, who were formerly my friends; and, as they have
not murdered, nor forged, nor robbed, on your majesty's
highway, it's very hard if a secretary of state hasn't interest
to bring them off. [Looking round.]
Eh!—oh! I see
by your countenances 'tis settled already. [To Farulho.]

Oh, my dear old master! Lord, Mr. Madiboo! how are
you, and all the rest of your family, after your confounded
fright?

Sel.
Come, love!—my dear Berissa!—My mother!
We have been sorely tried!

Ber.
But we can say,
Whatever we've endured, “'Twas virtue's trial.”

Sel.
Oh, how sweet! when after virtue's struggle,
We lay our hands upon our heart, and cry,
We've suffer'd Heaven's scourge with resignation,
And resignation is repaid with bliss!

CHORUS.
The contest's over—war's alarms
Now leave our native plains:
Then welcome friendship's charms,
For smiling peace remains.

Sutta.
Then, after cold and wintry showers,
The west wind breathes, and sunshine's ours:
Sweet spring,—each heart of care beguiling,—
Sweet spring returns, and all is smiling.

Chorus.
The contest's over, &c.