"MAMEENA."
Those who are not in the mood just now for a whole evening of exotic
melodrama might look in at the Globe Theatre about 9.15, and derive a
few moments' distraction from a Zulu wedding dance. I found it a better
show than anything I have ever seen in the native compounds at Earl's
Court. The company, of course, was mixed, but the white contingent had
caught the local colour (coffee) and showed great aptitude in imitating
the methods of the aborigines. Naturally there were conventions; the
chiefs talked fluent English, while the Zulu supers employed their own
vernacular, except in certain formal phrases, as when the "praisers" (my
programme's name for a sort of universal _claque_) punctuated the
speeches of their king with cries of "Yes, O Lion!" or "Yes, Great
Beast!" No doubt our honoured visitors could perceive many technical
points in which the ruling race exposed itself as having something yet
to learn, but they tactfully concealed all signs of superior
civilisation; and the British audience, well pleased with the novelty
and picturesqueness of the scenes, were content to waive invidious
distinctions.
The little brochure that was thrown in with the programme informs me
that the martial spirit of the Zulus (at that time under their own
_régime_) was "identical in many respects with 'Prussian Militarism.'"
Certainly there was a savagery about the way in which they progged the
air with their assegais that made one picture them as _capables de
tout_. But any comparison, whether in point of costume or royal bearing,
between _King Mpande_ and the GERMAN KAISER must have been in favour of
the latter. On the other hand, his son _Umbuyazi_ was a far nobler
figure than my conception of the CROWN PRINCE.
I may perhaps be excused if I do not dwell on the merits of the chief
actors or of the plot--not too easy to grasp at the first, thanks to the
difficulty we found in following the unfamiliar names of the characters.
Both these interests were dominated by the attraction of the admirable
setting. Fortunately the scenes were numerous and brief, but we still
suffered considerable tedium from the affected and drawling delivery of
the heroine. The frequent assurances which we received as to the
exceptional quality of _Mameena's_ beauty, and the fact that, to our
knowledge, she had three husbands in the course of the play, never quite
convinced us of the overwhelming character of her charms. Whether, with
a fair chance, she would have worked them successfully on a fourth man,
_Allan Quatermain_--the one white man who retained his native hue--I
cannot say, for somehow a stage diversion always intervened just as they
had begun to embrace. The reason, by the way, for _Quatermain's_
existence was never made too clear. Sportsman and dealer in general
stores, his habit of hanging vaguely about Zulu kraals and Zulu impis,
on nodding terms with just anybody, did not greatly increase my pride of
race, notwithstanding the statement made to him by _Mameena_: "I shall
never love another man as I love you, however many I marry."
Mr. OSCAR ASCHE, who dramatised Sir RIDER HAGGARD'S _Child of Storm_,
did not aim at subtlety. But a rather nice question arose over the rival
immoralities of _Mameena's_ second and third husbands. _Prince Umbuyazi_
(No. 3) had expressed regret to his old friend and comrade, _Saduka_
(No. 2), for appropriating his wife; but the apology was not received in
the spirit in which it was tendered, and during the fight between
_Umbuyazi_ and his brother _Cetshwayo_ the wronged husband went over
with his impis to the camp of the enemy. _Umbuyazi_ made a strong
protest against this treachery, but he must have seen (for he had much
intelligence) that his case was a bad one; and this reflection no doubt
had something to do with the final act by which (in the old Roman way)
he fell upon his own assegai and dropped backwards--an admirable
gymnastic--off one of the high rocks above the Tugela.
I have already referred to the difficulties of Zulu nomenclature, and I
would add that the native custom of addressing a man by his proper name
in the course of every sentence materially extended the operation of the
play. It must have made a difference--which I, for one, bitterly
grudged--of nearly half-an-hour. How much more satisfactory the economy
of a certain author of whom CHARLIE BROOKFIELD used to say: "He read his
play to the company, and it took three solid hours, _and even so he
didn't put in any of the 'h's.'_"