"Afric behold! alas, what altered view!
Her lands uncultured, and her sons untrue;
Ungraced with all that sweetens human life,
Savage and fierce, they roam in brutal strife;
Eager they grasp the gifts which culture yields,
Yet naked roam their own neglected fields."
And though even Africa has considerably changed since the year of grace
1497, when "daring GAMA" went "incessant labouring round the stormy
Cape," Mr. PUNCH thought of that great gloom-shrouded Equatorial Forest
and its secular savage dwarf-denizens, and mused how much there was yet
for our modern GAMAS to do in the Dark Continent.
Mr. PUNCH found himself in the lovely "Isle of Venus," the delicious
floral Paradise which the Queen of Love, "the guardian goddess of the
Lusian race," created "amid the bosom of the watery waste," as "a place
of glad repast and sweet repose," for the tired home-returning GAMA and
his companions.
"Of 'glad repast,'" said a familiar voice, "there is plenty and to
spare; but for the 'sweet repose,' 'tis not to be found in this 'Isle of
Banqueting.'"
"Mr. STANLEY, I presume?" said the Sage.
"You _cannot_ presume," rejoined H. M. neatly. "But some of these
gregarious dinner-givers _do_, and sometimes,--yes, sometimes I'm afraid
I let them see that I'm aware of it."
"As fame-preoccupied, country-loving GAMA, wearied of the 'feasts,
interludes, and chivalrous entertainments,' with which 'the taste of
that age demonstrated the joy of Portugal,' might perchance have snubbed
some too importunate Don. 'The compliments of the Court and the shouts
of the streets were irksome to him,' says the chronicle."
"SALISBURY is not quite a Prince HENRY apparently," remarked the modern
GAMA. "He and his father JOHN did not find the discoveries and
acquisitions of their heroic compatriot 'embarrassing.' 'The arts and
valour of the Portuguese had now made a great impression on the minds of
the Africans. The King of CONGO, a dominion of great extent, sent the
sons of some of his principal officers to be instructed in arts and
religion.' This was four hundred years ago! And now the Portuguese can
be safely snubbed and sat upon, even by a SALISBURY! But if your prudent
Premier doesn't 'stiffen his back' a bit, with regard to the tougher and
tentative Teuton, 'the arts and valour' of the Britishers will not make
as great an impression on the minds of the Africans as your ill-used
East African Company could desire."
"Don't be _too_ downhearted, HENRY," smiled the Sage. "Much dining-out
doth breed dyspepsia, and atrabilious views are apt to be a _leetle_
lop-sided."
"Right, _Mr. Punch!_" said a musical but somewhat mournful voice, that
of the great but ill-starred LUIS DE CAMOENS himself. "I wrote much of
my _Lusiadas_ in Africa.
"'One hand the pen, and one the sword employed.'
"_My_ reward was banishment, imprisonment, poverty, neglect, and a
miserable death in an almshouse. 'Soon after, however,' says the record,
'many epitaphs honoured his memory: the greatness of his merit was
universally confessed, and his _Lusiad_ was translated into various
languages.' 'The whirligig of time brings its revenges,' as your own
illustrious Singer saith. How think you myself and my friend VASCO de
GAMA here look upon the fallen state of our beloved native land? In vain
he ventured for her. In vain I warningly sang:--
"'Chill'd by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires
Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.
Shall haughty Gaul or sterner Albion boast
That all the Lusian fame in thee is lost!'"
Mr. PUNCH bowed low to the illustrious Poet and the indomitable
Explorer. "Greatness," said he, courteously, "claims reverence, and
misfortune respect. Your countrymen, Gentlemen, have been rather angry
with me of late. But 'sterner Albion' may be proud indeed if she
produces such men as GAMA to perform heroic deeds, and such poets as
CAMOENS to sing them." The stately Shades saluted. "I wonder," said
GAMA, "who will be the Laureate of the later Ulysses, and which of your
singers will write the _Epic of Africa?_"
"I fear," said Mr. PUNCH, "that at present they are too busy smiting the
Socialistic big drum, or tickling their sonorous native tongue into
tinkling triolets. In this Island of Venus----"
"I beg pardon," interrupted STANLEY, with a sardonic smile. "This Island
of _Menus_, you mean, Mr. PUNCH!"
Mr. PUNCH looked around. The Acidalian roses and myrtles, the purple
lotos and the snowy thorn, the yellow pod-flowers and the waving palms,
the vermeil apples and the primrosed banks, of CAMOENS' somewhat
zone-confounding vision, had indeed vanished, and in their stead seemed
to wave snowy _serviettes_, to flow champagne-streams, to glitter
goblets, and to glow orchid-laden _épergnes_.
"Humph!" said the Sage. "The prose of the _Restaurateur_--which by the
way sounds as if I were alluding to the literature of the
Restauration,--hath insensibly superseded the poesy of the peerless
Portuguese. Well, Gentlemen, in vain may 'sterner Albion' glory in the
profusion of wealth and the pomp of 'glad repast,' unless also she
breeds heroes to adventure and poets to celebrate. As you sang, my
CAMOENS--
"'The King or hero to the Muse unjust,
Sinks as the nameless slave, extinct in dust.'
"For the present, STANLEY'S arm and Mr. PUNCH'S pen suffice to save the
State from such abasement. But let our timid Premiers and our
temporising Press remember the glories of GAMA and CAMOENS, and the fate
of ungrateful and indolent Lusitania!"
"The Pen of Mr. PUNCH!" cried CAMOENS. "Ah, long have the valiant VASCO
and myself desired to peruse its sparkling and patriotic outpourings.".
"And you, my STANLEY," proceeded Mr. PUNCH, "said to the banqueting
Fishmongers, 'I am an omnivorous reader whenever an opportunity presents
itself.' It presents itself here and now. Take, Illustrious Trio, the
greatest gift that even PUNCH can bestow upon you, to wit his
"Ninety-Eighth Volume!"
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
* * * * *