University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

THE MOORISH CADI'S HOUSE IN GRANADA.
A crowd of Moorish men and women are discovered on the stage, dressed in their national costume, the former with their peculiar head-dress and loose trousers, the latter in white doublets; some of them carrying musical instruments. To them
Enter the CADI and ALCUZCUZ.
CADI.
Are the doors securely fastened?

ALCUZCUZ.
Yes, the doors are quite secure.

CADI.
Let none in without the password,
And the zambra may proceed;
Let us celebrate our sabbath,
Which is Friday, in the way
That our nation loves to keep it,
That the Christian race, among
Whom we live in wretched thraldom,
May have no excuse to-day,
To revile or reprehend us
For our sacred rite.

ALL.
Begin!

ALCUZCUZ.
I will break my legs to splinters,
When I enter into the dance!

A MOOR
sings.
Although in sad captivity,
Through Allah's righteous mystery,
The Moorish race weep bitterly
The wretched breath they draw,—

ALL.
Long live his law!—

ANOTHER
sings.
Live the memory of the glorious
And the laurel-crowned laborious
Battles, when o'er Spain victorious,
Her captive form we saw,—

ALL.
Long live his law!—

ALCUZCUZ
sings.
Live the memory of brave Muza,
And that fight in Andalusa,
When old Spain could not refuse a
Welcome to stout Africa,—

ALL.
Long live his law!—

[A loud knocking is heard within.
CADI.
What is this?

ONE.
They force an entrance.

CADI.
Doubtless they desire to seize us
In our meetings, since the king
Has commanded by his edicts
That we should be watched; the law,
Seeing to this house repairing
Such a crowd of Moors, comes hither
In pursuit.

ALCUZCUZ.
Then let us fly:—

CADI.
Why, my friends, delay to open
Unto him who calls so boldly?

ALCUZCUZ.
Vainly knocks he at the door,
Who knocks not at the heart before.

ONE.
What is to be done?

CADI.
Concealing
All the instruments, then open,
Saying, that 'twas but to see me
You came here.

ANOTHER MOOR.
A good excuse.

CADI.
Let us therefore all dissemble,—
Alcuzcuz! fly, what delays you?

ALCUZCUZ.
Why, the door I fear to open,
Lest a hundred blows of the cudgel
I should get upon the stomach
From the alguazil: 'twere wrong,
Since they call me a Jack-pudding,
Whacks, not pudding, I should get.

Enter DON JUAN MALEC.
MALEC.
Do not fear.

CADI.
My lord Don Juan!
Whose pure blood of Malec gives you
Still the magisterial rank
In the city of Granada,
Though of African descent,
Can it be, my lord, you enter
Thus my house?

MALEC.
No small occasion
Makes me seek you here to-day:—
'Tis enough to say, that hither
Draws me now mine own disgrace.

CADI,
aside.
'Tis no doubt to reprehend us
That he comes.

ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Oh! that is naught,—
Which were worse, to apprehend us
Or to reprehend us, pray?

CADI.
What are your commands?

MALEC.
Abandon,
All of you, my friends, the fear
That my coming has occasioned;
Entering to-day the council,
We received a missive, sent
From the chamber of King Philip,
By the president himself,
To the end, that all the mandates
It imposes, should forthwith
By the city be effected:—
Being opened, the official
Secretary of the council
Read it with uplifted voice,
And the whole of the instructions
It contained, at once were ordered,
To your greatest wrong: How truly
Call they Time and Fortune twins!
Since the two, for good or evil,
On one wheel and with two pinions
Ever move and never stay!
Of the orders thus transmitted,
Some are old and some are new,
All of them revived or written
In a spirit most malign;
The effect of which is briefly,—
That no African, or one
Sprung from that renownéd nation,
Which to-day is but the ashes
Of that once unconquer'd flame
Which devoured this Spain: henceforward
Can their festivals observe—
Hold their zambras—wear silk dresses—
Use the public baths—or speak,
Even in their private dwellings,
In their own Arabic language—
But the strange Castilian tongue.
I, from being the most agéd
Of the members present, thought
That it was my right and duty
To speak first, and so I said,
That however just the edict,
And how wise the end might be,
So that all the Moorish customs,
One by one might disappear,—
That however was no reason
For the harshness now imposed,
And that if the law proceeded,
In the case, with moderation,
Needless violence avoiding,
All these customs soon might fail.
Then Don Juan de Mendoza,
He who is allied so closely
To the house of the great Marquis
De Mondéjar, thus replied:—
“Not impartially, Don Juan
Speaketh thus, since nature prompts him
To espouse his kindred's cause;
Therefore would he stay and lighten
This just judgment on the Moors,—
A base, degraded, abject people!”—
“My lord Don Juan de Mendoza,”
Said I then, “when Spain was held
Captive, 'neath the Moorish standards,
Even on its native soil,
Even then some Christians mingled
With the Arabs, who since then,
From this cause, are called Mozarabs,
Unto whom no degradation
Or no infamy hath come,
For to no such height of glory
Fortune rises, not even when
It subdues and conquers evils,
As when it doth bear them well.
And however poor and humble
Be a crushed and captive people—
Moorish cavaliers are not
Less than Christian knights, the moment
They receive baptismal water,
And admission to the one
Holy Catholic religion;
And especially among them
Those who claim to have, as I,
Kings for their progenitors:”—
“Aye,” said he, “but Moorish kings:”—
“What!” I answer'd, “is the Moorish
Blood that mantleth in the veins
Of the Zegris and Granadas,
The Valores and Venegas—
Is it, I repeat, bereft
Of its rich and royal nature,
Now that they are Christian men?”
Thus one word produced another,
Since, there meeting without swords,
They could speak and I should listen;
Oh! accurséd be the chance!
Thrice accurséd the occasion!
That instead of swords, we fought with
Clashing disputatious tongues,
Though they are the deadlier weapons,
Since wounds heal before a word:
Something here I must have added,
Which increased his arrogance,
For (I tremble to relate it!)
He then snatching (oh! the pain!)
Out of my hands my staff of office,
With it..... oh! enough! enough!
Since some sorrows cost us greater
Pain to tell than to endure.
Now this outrage which I suffered
In defending you, this wrong,
Which, your natural rights sustaining,
I alone endured, doth reach
Every one of us united:—
For I have no son, whose hand
Might remove this foul dishonour
From these thin and snow-white hairs;
I have but a daughter—she,
Once my joy but now my sorrow:—
Well, then, brave and noble Moors—
Precious relic of our nation—
Since the Christians' only object
Is to make our whole race slaves—
Since we hold the Alpujarra—
That sierra, which so proudly
Lifts its tall head to the sun—
And with towns all peopled over,
Seems a sea of rocks and plants,
With its fortresses like vessels
Sailing over silver waves;
Which their very names—Galera,
Berja, and Gabia say:—
Since this tract is ours, then hither
Let us fly with arms and stores;
Choose a chieftain from the ancient
And unblemished noble race
Of your own Abenhuméyas,
Since Castile preserves them still,
And thus turn from slaves to masters.
I myself, though dear 'twill cost me,
Will go round, convincing all,
That 'tis infamy—'tis baseness
To partake in my disgrace
And partake not in my vengeance.

[Exit.
CADI.
For the deed thou meditatest....

A MOOR.
For the action that you plan....

CADI.
Life and wealth I freely offer.

[Exit.
A MOOR.
I can give but life and soul.

[Exit.
ANOTHER MOOR.
Every Moorish man will do so.

[Exit.
A MOORISH WOMAN.
I, for all the Moorish women
That Granada doth contain,
Offer all our silks and jewels.

ALCUZCUZ.
I who've but a little store
Of odds and ends in Bivarambla—
Vinegar, sweet figs and oil—
Almonds, raisins, garlic, pepper,
Ribbons, onions, nuts, and brooms
Made of the palm-tree, threads and needles,
Pouches, paper white and brown,
Caraways, dogs' leather collars,
Snuff, tobacco, sticks and twigs,
Quills for making pens, and wafers
To seal letters—all must I
Now upon my shoulders carry
With a thousand other trifles;
Just to see if fortune reaches
To the summit of my hopes,
That is, of all the Alcuzcuzes
To be marquis, duke, or count:—

A MOOR.
Silence! you are mad.

ALCUZCUZ.
I am not
Mad.

ANOTHER MOOR.
If not, the thing is clear
That you're drunk.

ALCUZCUZ.
Nor drunk, sir, thank you:—
Since Mahomet, our great prophet,
Ordered in his Alcoran
That no wine should e'er be drunken,
I ne'er drank it—by my eyes!
But if any time it pleased me,
Not to break a good old custom,
I just hid it—by my beard!

[Exeunt.