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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Bride Of The Nile - Act I
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DRAMATIS PERSONAE
    * The Makawkas, Prince of Egypt.
    * Barix, the Roman Governor.
    * Alexis, his Son.
    * Boïlas, his Official Secretary.
    * Benjamin, a Samaritan.
    * Hatib, the Caliph`s Envoy.
    * Amru, Emir of the Saracens.
    * Coptic Patriarch.
    * Belkís, Daughter of the Makawkas.
    * Jael, Daughter of Benjamin.
    * Courtiers, Priests, Magicians, Citizens, Roman Soldiers, Arabs, Servants, etc.


Act I Governor`s Palace at Alexandria.
Act II Garden House of the Makawkas at On.
Act III On the Banks of the Nile. Time, th Century, A.D. 


Alexis, a young man, a dandy, is seated alone at his desk looking through official correspondence. He opens a private letter languidly, then, with a look of vexation.
Alexis.  It is time I made a change. My father says it. Yes,
 It is folly to go on. Love holds me less and less,
 And I am tired of all life gives us in that way.
 These Alexandrian maids amuse one for a day.
 But there are things in life of larger interest
 Even than unbought love, the passionatest and best.
 I am tired of Jael`s tears. It is always the same tale,
 I know it every word--the indestructible
 Devotion of her soul--it always is her soul--
 To an ideal man, sublimely beautiful,
 Sublimely wise and good,--and christened with my name,
 In compliment, no doubt, to all that I least am,
 With hints that I should wed her. Yes, I know it all--
 Her raptures, her remorses, the things past recall,
 The hardness of my heart, the vow she now will make
 Of being a fool no more--with firm intent to break.
 Her letters! Oh, I know them. I want something fresh,
 A new sea for my nets, and those of larger mesh.
New worlds to win--male worlds--not women`s.

(Reads the letter.) Ah, just so,
 Exactly as I thought--``a new absorbing woe,
 Added to all the rest``--``a last and fatal stroke
 Which separates our lives.`` No, no. She is in joke.
 She talks of ``an espousal,`` of herself as ``bride.``
 To whom? To what? Good heavens! Religion? Suicide?
 What does the woman mean? But I am ``to hear all soon,
 On Monday next.`` To--day! This very afternoon!
 Here! At the Prefecture, in my ``official heaven``--
 What monstrous foolishness--``in hope to be forgiven
 If she still claims my aid.`` I understand this word,
 But she will not find me here. The nest without the bird,
 That is our wisest course in cases of the kind.
 And yet it worries me, her marriage? Am I blind?
 Who, who can the man be? If she should prove untrue,
 This Jael after all? O women! None of you,
 Not one of you then constant! Even Jael! No, no;
 It would be too base of her,--though perhaps better so.
But see, my father comes.

(Enter Barix, announced by Servant.)
Servant. The Prefect, sir.

Barix
(heartily). Dear boy.
 I find you at your desk. This is indeed a joy.
 You will live to be my comfort. Well. What news? Yes, yes.
Our famous draft is ready?

Alexis
(looking puzzled). Which?

Barix. His Highness`?
Our note to the Makawkas.

(He takes up Jael`s letter.)
Alexis. No sir. No, not that.
This is the document

(giving another paper).
Barix
(reading). In high affairs of State
 Use the third person. Right. The Makawkas is a prince
 With whom we can do much by show of deference.
Yes, a good draft, quite good.

(In a pompous voice.) I think we have made clear
 Now, even to their dull wits who read the circular,
 That Rome must be obeyed. How childish it all is,
 Alexis, after all, this prate of policies,
 This tenderness for forms and antiquated shams,
 When all the force is ours. We have played too long with names;
 It is time we came to facts. A veiled authority
 Was well in the past years. But now with this decree
 We shall take stronger ground. Rome has too much on hand
 To trifle with loose ways of action and command,
 Too high a duty. Here in Egypt more than all
 We need to prove our strength, to be equipped, like Saul,
 Taller than all our brethren, with the actual show
 Of kingship in the world--since Heaven has willed it so,
 And given us this high mission for the world`s more good.
 Rome`s task will be achieved with the whole Nile subdued,
 Its tribes reclaimed to law, its wealth to revenue,
 Its idle hands to toil. Here is good work to do
For all our officers.

Alexis. Good work, yes, and good pay.

Barix.  Good trade, too, for Rome`s millions clamouring day by day
 To Caesar for more bread. And Caesar`s will must wait
 Forsooth on the Makawkas! the machine of State,
 On the dull childish whim of a blind Coptic prince,
 Sad phantom of the Pharaohs, left us for our sins
 By the too tender conscience of Heraclius!
 No, no. This draft shall teach them that no noise nor fuss
 Can drive us from our course of large humanity
 Towards a suffering world. Alexis, they shall see
That Barix overbears.

Alexis
(aside). He does it well.

Barix. There, there,
 You shall take it him yourself. It will need all your care
 To get the Prince to sign it. Though his wit is dense,
 He is apt to be suspicious. Give him the general sense,
 Or read it in translation--an old trick, but one
 That very seldom fails if at all deftly done.
 It helps you to make light of phrases indiscreet,
 And screens you if detected. You must use your wit,
 And your good feeling too--to give it just that turn
 His jealousy demands. If he refuse blank, burn,
 But do not leave the Note. Of course, you understand,
 Our ways are above board. We like an open hand,
 Best where we safely can. He knows the Roman word
Is never given in vain.

Alexis
(aside). Oh, never.

Barix. Let him see
Rome is his truest friend.

Alexis. Of course. Most certainly.

Barix.  Tickle his fancy too. He likes our horse races,
 Our football, our gymkhanas. Show him your manliness,
 Talk of the cup you won--where was it? These things tell
 Much with the native mind. It will make him tractable.

Alexis.  I will talk of the Nile Bride. You know, Sir, the great show
 Announced for Saturday, a thing quite rococo
 In its barbarity, all actual tears and rage,
 With the chief actress put to true death on the stage--
You should see it, Sir, yourself.

Barix. Well, talk of what you will,
 So he but hear you out and be amenable,
 And sign. Get the thing signed, and signed with a good grace.
 Were I a younger man. Alexis, with your face
 You might work miracles. They say he has a daughter
Not altogether plain.

Alexis. Belkís. She has made slaughter
 Of half the Egyptian youth, who are susceptible,
 And drown themselves by scores in the Pharaonic well
 Her windows overlook. Krenfil has set a guard
 To keep them from the place, our Sanitation Board
 Objecting formally to these malpractices
 On the score of public health. A furlong round, the trees
 Were fruited with their corpses. Oh! she is beautiful,
 They say, as a young heifer--the Copt beauty rule--
 And sings like Philomel. She knows our literature
 From Hesiod to Haggardus, talks a Greek as pure
 As Socrates himself, and last year made in verse
 A history of the Pharaohs, ancestors of hers.
And then her dancing!

Barix. Ha! She dances?

Alexis. Yes, with grace
 Transcending, so they tell me, even the Herodias.

Barix.  A wonderful young lady! But, to be serious, look,
 The thing needs all our skill. When first we undertook
 To save these bankrupt lands from possible mischance
 And claim of the Makawkas Rome`s inheritance
 I gave you my full mind. I let you see within
 The secret springs of power, the pulse of the machine,
 And made you share my hopes in this last glorious task
 Of my life`s public toil. I drew aside the mask,
 And showed you my ambition, all that I designed
 Of honour for Rome`s name, uncabined, unconfined,
 In African dominion. And for ourselves--ah, well,
 There, too, we had our hopes, high set, impregnable.
 I sent you to Byzance. You saw the Emperor.
 He listened and approved. You crossed the official door
 Which leads to dignities and places largely paid.
 You came back my sub--Prefect. Your career was made.
 Yet you were grateful. Yes, Alexis, you, my son,
 Were worthy of my pride. I felt my fight half won,
 An Empire in my hand. All that remains now is
 To put our final stone upon the edifice.
 It lies here in this draft. If the Makawkas signs,
 The government is ours. In practice he resigns;
 And we, I, you in turn, mere simple citizens,
 Reign with the Pharaohs, kings by grace of Providence,
 And our high Emperor`s will and the great name of Rome,
 Accepted as crowned heads by all in Christendom.
What say you to it, boy?

Alexis. Father, you may count on me
In such a noble work.

Barix
(with emotion). We will set Egypt free,
 And make her the first realm of all the Roman State,
 A model to the Nations, rich, regenerate.
 This hardly is ambition. Duty were a name
Truer to call it by.

Alexis
(aside). The two things are the same
 In all the lexicons our honest statesmen use.
 He is a past phrase--master. Yet I share his views.

Barix.  But why thus count our chickens? We have work to do.
 You go to the Makawkas, you, Alexis, you,
 With your fine air of candour. He is a gentleman,
 And will not dare to show it, even if he doubts your plan.
Yet to make doubly sure, address the lady.

Alexis. Sir?

Barix.  Oh, in the way of honour, Caesar`s officer
 Must come with fair proposals, and a son of mine
I trust with honest purpose.

Alexis. What? As Valentine
To the brown beauty? Her? Belkís?

Barix. My son, even so,
 As Valentine to one whose hand, if not of snow,
 Will bring him a white fortune and a Viceroy`s crown.
 Alexis, you are not a mere light--headed clown,
 Like most of our young Romans, boys who strut and brawl
 And ballyrag the natives, holding one and all
 Slaves to their wit, forsooth, because of a dark skin.
 You have a higher sense. You hold each citizen
 Equal before the law and our great Emperor`s eye,
 Be he of shade or shape what Heaven has made him. Why,
 This lady is a princess. In her veins there runs
 The blood of all the Pharaohs. She shall breed you sons,
Each one of them a prince. And you hold back?

Alexis
(hesitating). Why, no.
 I had not thought to marry yet a year or so.
 The idea perplexes me.

(Aside.)  And Jael? Good God, and Jael?
 What will she say to it? Yet I forgot the tale
 Of her own marrying--that makes the danger less.

(Aloud).  Sir, I will think it over in all carefulness,
And let you know to--night.

Barix. Not now? Why, `tis a chance
 To jump at in the dark, to seize with your two hands.
 A kingdom pocketed! a noble service done
 To Caesar and your country! Think of that, my son.
And give me here your word.

Alexis. Forgive me. I was slow.

Barix.  Of course. I knew you would.
(He takes Alexis` hand.) Shake hands on it. Now go
 And do your duty, boy. And Heaven be with you.
[Exit Alexis.
(Pompously.) Thus
 Rome marches on her way, humane, victorious!

[Barix goes back to his desk.  And now to common things--the day`s work, the routine
 Of this great government. Men talk of the divine
 Pleasures of youth. Give me the joys of middle age.
 The age of fifty--two. There stands life`s happiest page,
 With honest work each day enough to stir the blood.
 `Tis worth all wine and women, if men understood.
Here, Boïlas
(calling).

(Enter Boïlas, a serious young man with an eyeglass and a sarcastic manner.)
Barix. Your report? What of the Provinces?
We will take the farthest first.

Boïlas. My Lord. The Soudanese.

Barix. The messenger, then, has come?

Boïlas. He came last night much spent,
 Having killed four dromedaries. The last fell at his tent,
 A mile outside the town, and he was carried in
 Half--dead with the despatches. There, it seems, has been
 Another small affair which has entailed some loss,
 A skirmish at the outposts--half a troop of horse
 Trapped in an ambuscade. Our fellows showed good fight,
 But were overpowered by numbers. With the morning light
 We got in all the bodies, and identified
 Young Phaedo, of the guard, and a score more beside.

Barix. What? Romans?

Boïlas. No, Blacks only. Just a small affair
With the native force.

Barix. That`s well. I should not just now care
 To report much Roman bloodshed to Heraclius.
 They are touchy at Byzance with the long incubus
 Of the Moslem raid in Syria. Nothing surer quells
 The warlike itch than life lost. But mere blacks! What else?

Boïlas.  The Nile, my Lord, they write still from all sides to me
 Gives grave cause for alarm. It is already three
 Full weeks behind its time, and even this messenger
 From the extremest south had no good news to bear.

Barix. It needs our careful thought.

Boïlas. My Lord, indeed it needs.
 Each post brings blacker tidings of the fear that breeds
 Like a worm in idle brains. The Copts, in their dull rage,
 Already meet and talk. They claim their privilege
 Of choosing a Nile bride to pacify the drought.
 All Egypt is in turmoil and perplexed with doubt,
 Each maiden being in fear lest the lot fall on her.
 Already three are named, and every officer
 Is deluged with petitions on this side and that
That Rome should intervene.

Barix
(pompously). Because the Nile is late
 And they are children all and need a mother. Rome
 Has a large bosom truly where all woes come home,
 Like pigeons to their cote when the kite sweeps the sky.
 We are their Providence, to bid them live or die.
 Yes, Boïlas, we are great. But, practically, what
 Is our best course to take? What say those on the spot?
Have we no precedents?

Boïlas. The last case of the kind
 Was in the year fifteen. I have looked it up and find
 A mass of correspondence, queries, notes, replies,
 With the sub--governors. This human sacrifice
 Is a time--honoured right of the Copt heresy.
 The girls are chosen by lot, each province sending three,
 And sometimes four or five. They must be beautiful,
 Well--bred, young, and in health. Strict virtue is a rule
All hold as absolute.

Barix
(with unction). Most right.

Boïlas. The ultimate choice
 Is left to the Makawkas, as presiding voice,
 Who gives away the bride in solemn ritual,
 With dirge accompaniment and the Dead March in ``Saul,``
 By the Nile bank at On. A barge new--gilt and decked
 From stem to stern with flags, is moored, a derelict
 In the mid--river. To it with banners, fifes, and drums
 They bring the lady down, and the Chief Sorcerer comes
 To crown her with fresh flowers. She is already dressed
 As a bride in white and gold, the sacrificial vest
 Of the old pagan days, with veils that hide her face.
 The Patriarch himself sings the high nuptial mass.
 The keel bolt is withdrawn. The barge is left to sink
 In mid--stream while crowds kneel in prayer on either brink.
 The last case caused some talk, and not a little mirth
 To our officials here beyond its actual worth.
 It was sent home to Byzance, where certain busy fools,
 Tourists in search of facts, had preached it to the schools
 And moved the Patriarch to threaten interdict
 On the score of superstition. They were nicely tricked
 When it came before the Court. The living bride they saw
 Was proved by the defence to be a bride of straw,
 The dummy sacrifice which every year we make,
 Even when the Nile is good, for the mere custom`s sake.
 The laugh was turned on them, and those here had their way.
The pageant was approved.

Barix. And did we not say nay,
 Boïlas, on moral grounds? The girl was sacrificed
Really in flesh and blood?

Boïlas. The Makawkas was apprised
 Of the finding of the Court, but with a private Note
 Suggesting some reform--a more secluded spot
 Was ordered for the function, should the case arise
 Again, than just at On under the whole world`s eyes.

Barix. Yet it was not condemned?

Boïlas. Why, no. In principle
 The thing was right enough. The ceremony fell
 Under the religious head and so beyond our sphere,
 As it has since remained. We could not interfere.

Barix.  Humph! Boïlas. That is sad. Think you, we could not try
 This year some further rule, if not full remedy?
Is it so popular?

Boïlas. Ah, there, my Lord, no doubt--
 The masses like the show and will not do without.

Barix.  Yet we might introduce (Well, what do you say to this?)
 An anaesthetic drug. It much diminishes
 The corporal pain of death if duly ministered--
 And saves appearances. It sounds, perhaps, absurd,
 Yet it is more humane, and we as Romans, should
 Stand always to the front in sparing human blood
And human suffering.

Boïlas. I will speak of it, my lord,
 To--night with the Chief Eunuch. One more serious word,
 The war news from Arabia and the Caliphate.

Barix. I thought the whole thing done.

Boïlas. Indeed, I fear, not yet.
 Our news is less assuring. The fanatic host
 Still pushes on in Syria and has reached the coast.
 Tadmor is lost to us. The trans--Euphratean towns
 Are opening all their gates. A hundred thousand crowns
 Were paid last month at Hama for a two years` truce.
 Nor is this all of it. The worst and latest news
 Tell Antioch beleaguered by these Saracens,
 And Kurdan, who was sent in haste to its defence,
 At his last hero shifts, with treachery within
And the Emirs without.

Barix. I really half begin
 To think the matter serious. They have let things run,
 Boïlas, too far ahead. `Tis time the war was done.
 It does not pay with Easterns thus to give them rope;
 They only flout at you; your patience feeds their hope,
 And they grow fierce as wolves at first sight of your back.
 O, Lord, the fools men are! Let them come here, the pack,
 And they shall learn of us what Rome`s true schooling is,
 When she finds time to strike and chide their childishness.
Boïlas, it makes me angry.

Boïlas. Would to heaven, `twere so.

(Aside.) Yet I would not see them here.

[A noise of people outside. Barix goes to the window.
Barix. What have we down below?
 A crowd of women folk. Are these the suppliants
You spoke of in your note? Let them come in.

(Enter Benjamin with Jael and other women. They kiss the hem of Barix`s coat.)
Boïlas
(to Jael). Off hands,
Madam. It is the Prefect.

Barix. Let the women be,
 Good Boïlas.
(To Jael.) Now, then, speak. Your nationality?

Boïlas. The most of them are Copts.

Barix.
(to Jael). And yours, young lady?

Jael. Sir,
 My Lord!
(Aside.) It is his father. Why is he not here?

Benjamin.  We are Samaritans. We come to claim that thing
 Said to be Rome`s high gift to all beneath her wing,
 Protection for the weak, justice, to man, to woman.

Barix. Rome is all justice.

Benjamin
(aside). Bah!
(Aloud.) And to be counted Roman.

Barix. Speak on.

Benjamin. These ladies here, my Lord, are innocents.
 They have done wrong to none in actions or intents,
 And are the Emperor`s subjects. Wherefore must they die?

Barix.  What is their grievance, then? We are all clemency.

Boïlas
(expostulating). My Lord!

Barix
(correcting himself). Within our scope, and sit with open ears.

Benjamin.  It is the Nile, dread Sir, and the high officers.
 They have doomed a maid to die this year in sacrifice,
 And these are of their choice, maidens discreet and wise,
 Unblemished in their lives and, as you see them, fair.

[Jael throwing herself on her knees with the rest before Barix.
Jael. Great Lord, we kneel to you.

Barix
(retreating). Boïlas, are these aware
 They should not thus approach me? Ladies, I supplicate.

Boïlas
(to Benjamin).  Remember what I warned you. It is an affair of State.
 Bid them control themselves. The Prefect is not moved
Thus idly by your tears.

Jael
(aside). Has he then never loved
 That his eyes cannot weep? He has a face like his,
 Half tender and half hard in its imperiousness.
It is ill to love a Roman.

Benjamin. One of these three must die,
 My Lord, if you withhold your promised clemency.
 I am an old man. See. This child is my sole staff
 Of comfort in the world, the thing which makes me laugh
 Each morning in my tears. O great Lords, look at her
 In her fresh womanhood, so innocent, so dear.
Look at her cheeks, her eyes.

Barix
(aside, and coming forward to the front with emotion). I once saw a gazelle
 On the Sakhara plain, a lone secluded dell,
 With scattered thorn bushes, a green sweet paradise
 In the chaotic waste, brown pebbles and blue skies,
 And with her her one fawn. My greyhound gave them chase,
 And holding a good start made short work of the race,
 And had the fawn by the throat, a bloody strangled heap,
 Before I could say ``off,`` that just before could leap
 A dozen yards at a bound. The old doe, bleating by,
 Refused to leave the spot, but lingered piteously,
 Running this way and that till the hound had her too,
 And both had got their death who but an hour ago
 Were the beauty of the place, and filled it with strange life.
 Then I was grieved for them. The sand about was rife
 With little marks of feet, and round the bushes still
 I saw where they had nibbled at their idle will
 Only that happy morning always two and two.
 It almost made me weep.
(He weeps.) Boïlas, could we not do
 Some bountiful high act to stop this savagery?
 Could we not intervene? This Nile bride seems to be
 A purely pagan custom handed down from days
 Strange to our Roman morals and humaner ways.
I am inclined to spare.

Benjamin. These Romans, then, have hearts?
He seems about to yield.

Boïlas. My Lord, you have more parts
 Than that of prince to play. The girl`s is a hard case.
 But where is there not hardship in these modern days?
 And if we stopped to think each time where the wheels go,
 How should we drive the State machine at all? No, no,
 We may not make exceptions on mere sentiment.
 Of course, Sir, you know best. Only I must dissent.

Barix.  Boïlas, you do me wrong. But might it not perhaps
 Be a wise policy, a feather in our caps,
Here to protect the weak?

Boïlas. I fear not with the strong
 Whose privilege it is to make things right or wrong.
 Think of the priests and elders. Why, for one of these
 Women who come to you with their small miseries,
 There are an hundred men, all taxpayers, who look
 To the State`s Chief for aid. Not one of them would brook
 Infringement of their right. The superstition is
 The Nile flood will not rise without the sacrifice.
 And if you intervene to baulk them in their fears,
 You have a hornet`s nest at once about your ears.
There, listen in the yard.

[A noise below.
Barix. What is it?

Boïlas. A procession
 Headed by drums and fifes. They escort the chief magician
 And all the highest priests of the Copt heresy,
In State towards our doors.

Women. O save us. We must flee.

Jael. How? Whither?

Benjamin. They are come to claim these women here
 For their Nile butchery. Save them, great Lord. Declare
 In the high name of law that all men in your hands
 Are safe while innocent. These are Rome`s suppliants.
 Cast over them Rome`s robe. Bid forth the Pretorian Guard.
 Arrest the ringleaders. Keep them in watch and ward,
And hold them from their prey.

Barix. `Twere noble thus to do.
How say you, Boïlas?

Boïlas
(with indignation). Risk the Empire? For a Jew?
 Look at the enormous crowd. Think of Rome`s precedents,
 A thousand years of fame, built up--on sentiments?
 No, but on principles. My Lord, this should not be.
Let the law take its course.

Barix
(bewildered). Good ladies, were I free,
 I gladly would befriend you. But, alas, your case
 Is not my own to judge, but the Makawkas`,
I may not intervene.

(He points to the window.) Speak to them, Boïlas. Say:

(Stammering).  ``The Imperial word once given, not now, nor yesterday,
 But generations since, in spite of change holds good.
 We leave all to His Highness--be that understood--
 Only commending mercy.``

(To the ladies.)  No, I hear no more.
 Ladies, I am your servant. By this postern door,
 You issue through the garden. Be advised. Go home.
You have my tears.

Benjamin. And you the curse of the poor, O Rome!

Curtain.
Source
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