FRIAR.And yet no moreThan he had learned already. He would askWhy you, of all the captives doomed to die,Alone were spared?TEMPLAR.Can I myself tell that?Already with bare neck I had knelt downUpon my mantle, to await the stroke,When Saladin with steadfast eye surveys me.Nearer he draws--he makes a sign--they raise me--I am unbound--I would express my thanks--I mark the tear-drop glisten in his eye--We both stand mute--he turns and leaves the spot--I stay. And now, how all this hangs together,The Patriarch must explain.FRIAR.The Patriarch thinksThat Heaven preserved you for some mighty deed.TEMPLAR.Some mighty deed? To rescue from the flamesA Jewish maid! To lead to Sinai's mountBands of inquiring pilgrims--and the like!FRIAR.The time may come for more important tasks:Perhaps the Patriarch has already plannedSome mighty business for you.TEMPLAR.Think you so?Has he already given you a hint?FRIAR.Yes--but my task is first to sift a little,To see if you are one to undertake----TEMPLAR.Well--sift away? (We'll see how this man sifts).FRIAR.The better course will be to name at onceWhat is the Patriarch's desire.TEMPLAR.It is----?FRIAR.To make you bearer of a letter.TEMPLAR.Me?I am no carrier. Is that the officeMore meritorious than to save from deathA Jewish maid?FRIAR.So, truly, it would seem.The Patriarch says that this little noteInvolves the general weal of Christendom,And that to bear it to its destined hand,Safely, will merit a peculiar crownFrom Heaven--and of that crown, the PatriarchSays none can worthier be than you.TEMPLAR.Than I!FRIAR.You have your liberty--can look around;You understand how cities may be stormed,And how defended, says the Patriarch;You know the strength and weakness of the towers,And of the inner rampart lately rearedBy Saladin, and you could point out allTo the Lord's champions fully.TEMPLAR.May I knowExactly the contents of this same letter?FRIAR.Of that I am not quite informed myself.'Tis to King Philip; and our Patriarch--I often wonder how that holy man,Whose every thought would seem absorbed by Heaven,Can stoop to earthly things, and how his mindCan be so deeply skilled in human lore----TEMPLAR.Well, then, your Patriarch----FRIAR.Exactly knowsFrom secret sources, how, and with what force,And in what quarter, should the war break out,The foe and Saladin will take the field.TEMPLAR.Knows he so much?FRIAR.Ay, truly! and he longsTo send the urgent tidings to King Philip,That he may better calculate if nowThe danger be so great, as to demandAt every hazard that he should renewThe truce so boldly broken by the Templars.TEMPLAR.The noble Patriarch! He seeks in meNo common herald, but the meanest spy.Therefore, good brother, tell your Patriarch,That I am not--as far as you can sift--The man to suit his ends. I hold myselfA captive still. I know a Templar's duty:Ready to die, not live to play the spy.FRIAR.I thought as much. Nor can I censure youFor your resolve. The best has still to come.Our Patriarch has learnt the very fort,Its name, its strength, its site on Lebanon,Wherein those countless treasures are concealed,Wherewith the Sultan's prudent father paysHis troops, and all the heavy costs of war.He knows that Saladin, from time to time,Visits this fortress, by some secret way,With but a few attendants.TEMPLAR.Well! what then?FRIAR.'Twould be an easy task, methinks, to seizeThe Sultan thus defenceless--and to end him.You shudder, knight! Two monks who fear the Lord,Are ready now to undertake the task,And wait a leader.TEMPLAR.And the PatriarchHas pitched on me to do this noble deed?FRIAR.He thinks King Philip might from PtolemaisGive aid in the design.TEMPLAR.Has pitched on me!On me!--Say, brother, have you never heardThe boundless debt I owe to Saladin?FRIAR.Truly I have.TEMPLAR.And yet----FRIAR.The PatriarchSays that is very well; but yet your order,And vows to God----TEMPLAR.Change nothing; they commandNo villainy.FRIAR.No. But the PatriarchSays what seems villainy to human eyes,May not appear so in the sight of God.TEMPLAR.Brother, I owe my life to Saladin,And his shall my hand take?FRIAR.Oh, no!--But yetThe Patriarch maintains that Saladin,Who is the common foe of Christendom,Can never have a claim to be your friend.TEMPLAR.My friend? forsooth! because I will not beA thankless wretch to him!FRIAR.'Tis so!--But yetThe Patriarch thinks gratitude is notBefore the eyes of God or man, a debt,Unless, for our own sakes, some benefitHas been conferred; and, says the Patriarch,It is affirmed the Sultan spared your lifeMerely because your voice, your look, your air,Awoke a recollection of his brother----TEMPLAR.He knows all this, and yet?----Ah, were it true!And, Saladin, could Nature form in meA single feature in thy brother's likeness,With nothing in my soul to answer it?Or what does correspond, shall I belieTo please a Patriarch? No, surely NatureCould never lie so basely! Nor, kind God,Couldst thou so contradict Thyself! Go, brother,And do not rouse my anger.FRIAR.I withdrawMore gladly than I came. And, pardon me:A monk's first duty, sir, is to obey.SceneVI.--TheTemplarandDaja.(She has been watching him from afar and now approaches.)DAJA.Methinks the monk left him in no good mood,But, spite of that, I must my errand risk.TEMPLAR.This hits exactly. As the proverb goes,Women and monks are ever Satan's tools,And I to-day am subject to them both.DAJA.Whom do I see? Thank God, our noble knight.Where have you been so long? Not ill, I hope?TEMPLAR.No.DAJA.In good health?TEMPLAR.Yes.DAJA.We have all been grievedLest something should have ailed you. Have you beenUpon a journey?TEMPLAR.Fairly guessed.DAJA.Since whenHave you returned to us?TEMPLAR.Since yesterday.DAJA.Our Recha's father, too, is just returned,And now may Recha hope at last.TEMPLAR.For what?DAJA.For what she has so often asked in vain.Her father pressingly invites you too.He lately has arrived from BabylonWith twenty camels, bearing precious stones,And stuffs and fragrant spices, which he soughtIn India, Persia, Syria, and China.TEMPLAR.I am no merchant.DAJA.He is much esteemedBy all his nation--honoured as a prince--And yet to hear how he is named by allNathanthe Wise, and notthe Rich, seems strange.It often makes me wonder.TEMPLAR.But to themIt may be,wiseand rich--both mean the same.DAJA.It seems to me he should be calledthe Good,So rich a store of goodness dwells in him.Since he has learned the weighty debt he owesFor service done to Recha there is noughtHe would withhold from you.TEMPLAR.Well?DAJA.Try him, sir!TEMPLAR.What then? A moment passes soon away.DAJA.I had not dwelt with him so many yearsWere he less kind. I know a Christian's worth,And it was never o'er my cradle sungThat I to Palestine should wend my way,Following a husband's steps, to educateA Jewish maid. My husband was a page,A noble page, in Emperor Frederick's court----TEMPLAR.By birth a Swiss, who earned the sorry fameOf drowning in one river with his lord.Woman! how often have you told this tale?When will you cease to persecute me thus?DAJA.To persecute you!TEMPLAR.Ay, to persecute!Now mark me. I will never see you more,Hear you, nor be reminded of a deedPerformed at random. When I think of it,I wonder somewhat, though I ne'er repent.But hear me still. Should such a fatal chanceAgain occur, you have yourself to blameIf I proceed more calmly, question first.And let what's burning, burn.DAJA.Great God forbid!TEMPLAR.And now I have a favour to implore.Know me henceforth no more. Grant me this grace,And save me from her father; for with meA Jew's a Jew; a Swabian blunt am I.The image of the maid is now erasedOut of my soul--if it was ever there.DAJA.But yours remains with her.TEMPLAR.Well, and what then?DAJA.Who knows? Men are not always what they seem.TEMPLAR.They're seldom better.(Going.)DAJA.Stay a little while.What need of haste?TEMPLAR.Woman! forbear to makeThese palm--trees odious: I have loved their shade.DAJA.Then go, thou German bear! Yet I must follow him.(She follow him at a distance.)ACT II.SceneI.--The Sultan's Palace.SaladinandSittah(playing at chess).SITTAH.Where are your thoughts? How ill you play, dear brother!SALADIN.Not well in truth--and yet I thought----SITTAH.Oh, yes!You're playing well for me; take back that move.SALADIN.Why?SITTAH.Don't you see you leave your knight exposed?SALADIN.Ay, true!--then so.SITTAH.And now I take your pawn.SALADIN.That's true again, dear Sittah! Well, then, check!SITTAH.That will not help you--I protect my king,And all is safe again.SALADIN.Well, out of thisDilemma 'tis not easy to escape.I cannot save the knight.SITTAH.I pass him by;I will not take him.SALADIN.Well, I owe you nothing;The place you gain is better than the piece.SITTAH.Perhaps.SALADIN.But reckon not without your host;You did not see that move.SITTAH.Not I, indeed;I did not think you weary of your queen.SALADIN.My queen!SITTAH.Well, well! I see that I to-dayShall win my thousand dinars and no more.SALADIN.Why so?SITTAH.Why so? Because designedlyYou lose the game! You vex me, Saladin!I find no pleasure in a game like this.And even when I lose, I come off well;For, to console me for the games you win,You force me to accept a double stake.SALADIN.In that case, then, it may be by designThat you have sometimes lost. Is that the truth?SITTAH.At least your generosity's to blameThat I improve so little in my play.SALADIN.But we forget the game; come, finish it.SITTAH.Well, 'tis my move; now, check to king and queen!SALADIN.Indeed! I did not see the double check.I lose my queen.SITTAH.Let's see! Can it be helped?SALADIN.No, take the queen--I have no luck with her.SITTAH.Only with her?SALADIN.Remove her from the board,I shall not miss her. Now I am right again.SITTAH.I know from lessons which yourself have taughtHow courteously we should behave to queens.(Offering to restore the piece.)SALADIN.Take her or not, I shall not move her more.SITTAH.Why need I take her? Check, and check!SALADIN.Go on.SITTAH.Check, check, and check again!SALADIN.'Tis checkmate now.SITTAH.Hold!--no, not yet. You may advance the knight,And ward the danger. But 'twill be the same.SALADIN.You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.Let him be called, Sittah! You were not wrong.My thoughts were wandering--were not in the game,But who gives us so oft these shapeless bitsOf wood? which speak of naught--suggest no thought.Was it with Iman that I've played--Well, well,Ill-luck is ever wont to seek excuse.Not the unmeaning squares or shapeless menHave made me heedless; your dexterity,Your calm, sharp eye, dear Sittah!SITTAH.What of that?Is that to blunt the sting of your defeat?Enough--your thoughts were wandering more than mine.SALADIN.Than yours? What subject could engage your thoughts?SITTAH.Far different cares than those which trouble you.But, Saladin, say, when shall we againResume this pleasant pastime?SALADIN.Dearest Sittah,This interruption will but whet our zeal.Your thoughts are on the war: well, let it come--'Twas not my arm that first unsheathed the sword;I would have willingly prolonged the truce,And willingly have knit a tender bond,For Sittah's sake, with Richard's noble brother.SITTAH.How pleased you are, can you but praise your Richard.SALADIN.If Richard's sister had but been bestowedUpon our brother Melek, what a houseHad then been ours! the best, the happiestThe earth could boast. You know I am not slowTo praise myself: I'm worthy of my friends.What men these unions would have given us!SITTAH.Did I not smile at once at your fine dreams?You do not, will not, know the Christian race.It is their pride not to be men, but Christians.The virtue which their founder felt and taught,The charity He mingled with their creed,Is valued, not because it is humane,And good, and lovely, but for this alone,That it was Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.'Tis well for them He was so good a man,Well that they take His goodness all on trust,And in His virtues put their faith. His virtues!'Tis not His virtues, but His name aloneThey wish to thrust upon us--His mere name,Which they desire should overspread the world,Should swallow up the name of all good men,And put the rest to shame. 'Tis for His nameAlone they care.SALADIN.Else, Sittah, as you say,They would not have required that you and MelekShould be called Christians, ere they suffered youTo feel for Christians the pure flame of love.SITTAH.As if from Christians, and from them alone,That love can be expected, which the handOf our Creator gives to man and wife.SALADIN.Christians believe such vain absurdities,That this may be among them. And yet, Sittah,The Templars, not the Christians, are in thisTo blame. 'Tis they alone who thwart my plans;'Tis they who still hold Acca, pledged to usBy treaty as the dower of Richard's sister.And, to maintain their order's interests,They use this cant--the nonsense of the monk.Scarce would they wait until the truce expiredTo fall upon us. But, go on, good sirs!Would that all else may thrive as well as this!SITTAH.Why, what else troubles you? What other careHave you to struggle with?SALADIN.That constant grief--I've been to Lebanon, and seen our father.He's full of care.SITTAH.Alas!SALADIN.He must give way.Straitened on every side, no aid, no help,Nothing comes in.SITTAH.What ails him, Saladin?SALADIN.The only thing that I am loth to name,Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems,And, when I have it not, so necessary.Where is Al-Hafi? Have they gone for him?Will no one go? Oh, fatal, cursed money!Welcome, Al-Hafi! You are come at last.SceneII.TheDervise Al-Hafi,Saladin,andSittah.AL-HAFI.The gold from Egypt, I suppose, is come.Say, is it much?SALADIN.What! have you heard of it?AL-HAFI.Not I. I thought I should receive it here.SALADIN(pacing thoughtfully to and fro).Sittah has won a thousand dinars, pay them.AL-HAFI.Pay without getting. That is worse than nothing!And still to Sittah--once again for chess!But let us see the board; how stands the game?SITTAH.You grudge me my good fortune?AL-HAFI(examining the board).Grudge you? When--You know too well----SITTAH(making signs to him).Oh, hush! Al-Hafi, hush!AL-HAFI(still examining the board).Don't grudge it to yourself.SITTAH.Al-Hafi, hush!AL-HAFI.And were the white men yours?You gave the check?SITTAH.'Tis well he does not hear.AL-HAFI.The move is his.SITTAH(approaching nearer).Then promise me that I shall have the money.AL-HAFI(still intent upon the board).You shall receive it as you've always done.SITTAH.How! are you mad?AL-HAFI.The game's not over yet.You have not lost it, Saladin.SALADIN(paying no attention).Oh, yes;Pay down the money.AL-HAFI.Pay! here stands the queen.SALADIN(still heedless).She's of no use; she's lost.SITTAH.Do say that IMay send and fetch the gold.AL-HAFI(still studying the game).Oh, yes! of course.But though the queen be lost, you are not mate.SALADIN(dashing down the board).I say I am. I will be mate.AL-HAFI.If so,Small pains, small gains, say I. So got, so spent.SALADIN.What is he muttering there?SITTAH(toSaladin,making a sign meanwhile toAl-Hafi).You know him well.He likes entreaties--loves to be implored.Who knows if he be not a little jealous?SALADIN.Well, not of thee--not of my sister, surely.What do I hear? Al-Hafi, are you jealous?AL-HAFI.Perhaps I am. I wish I had her head,Or that I were as good as she.SITTAH.My brother,He always pays me fairly, and to-dayHe'll do the same. Let him alone. Now go!Al-Hafi! go! I'll have the money----AL-HAFI.No, not I.I'll act this farce no more. He must know soon.SALADIN.Who? what?SITTAH.Al-Hafi! say, is this your promise?Is't thus you keep your word?AL-HAFI.Could I foreseeThat it would come to this?SALADIN.Well, tell me all.SITTAH.Al-Hafi! I implore you, be discreet.SALADIN.'Tis very strange; and what can Sittah haveSo earnestly to sue for, from a stranger--A Dervise--rather than from me, her brother?Al-Hafi, I command you. Dervise, speak.SITTAH.Let not a trifle touch my brother nearerThan is becoming, for you know that IHave often won as much from you at chess.But as I stand in little need of gold,I've left the money in Al-Hafi's chest,Which is not over full; but never fear,It is not my intention to bestowMy wealth on either of you.AL-HAFI.Were this all!SITTAH.Some more such trifles are perhaps unclaimed:My own allowance, which you set apartHas lain some months untouched.AL-HAFI.Nor is this all.SALADIN.Then tell the whole.AL-HAFI.Whilst we've been waiting forThe gold from Egypt, she----SITTAH.Nay, hear him not.AL-HAFI.Not only has had nothing,----SALADIN.Dearest sister I--But also has been lending it to you?AL-HAFI.Ay! at her sole expense maintained your state.SALADIN(embracing her).So like my sister!SITTAH.Who but you, my brother,Could make me rich enough to have the power?AL-HAFI.And soon he'll make her once again as poorAs he is now.SALADIN.I poor! her brother poor!When had I more--when had I less than now?A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and my God!What need I else? and these ne'er can I lack.And yet, Al-Hafi, I could scold you now.SITTAH.Nay, brother, do not scold. I would that ICould thus also relieve our father's cares!SALADIN.Ah! now my joy has vanished all at once.We can want nothing; but he's destitute.And whilst he wants, we all are poor indeed.What shall I do? From Egypt we can hopeFor nothing--though God only knows the cause.'Tis general peace around, and as for me,I could live sparingly, reduce, retrench,If none else suffered; but 'twould not avail.A cloak, a horse, a sword I ne'er can want.As to my God, He is not to be bought.He asks but little, only asks my heart.I had relied, Al-Hafi, on your chest,Upon the surplus there.AL-HAFI.A surplus there!Say, should I not have been impaled or hanged,If I had been detected hoarding upA surplus? Deficits I might have ventured.SALADIN.Well, but what next? Could you have found out noneTo borrow from, but Sittah?SITTAH.And would IHave borne it, had another been preferred?I claim that privilege. I am not yetQuite beggared.SALADIN.No, not quite. Dear Sittah, thisAlone was wanting. But, Al-Hafi, go,Inquire about, take where and what you can;Borrow on promise, contract, anyhow;But, mark me, not from those I have enriched.'Twould seem as if I wished to have it back.Go to the covetous. They gladliest lend.They know how well their money thrives with me.AL-HAFI.I know of none.SITTAH.I recollect just now,I heard, Al-Hafi, of your friend's return.AL-HAFI(starting).Friend! friend of mine! and who can that be, pray?SITTAH.Your boasted Jew.AL-HAFI.A Jew! and praised by me!SITTAH.On whom his God--I think I recollectThe very words you used, as touching him--On whom his God, of all the choicest goodsOf earth, in full abundance, has bestowedThe greatest and the least.AL-HAFI.What could I meanWhen I said so?SITTAH.The least of good things--wealth.The greatest--wisdom!AL-HAFI.How! and of a JewDid I say that?SITTAH.Ay, that you did--of Nathan.AL-HAFI.Oh, true! of Nathan--yes! He did not nowOccur to me. But he's returned at last,Then do not doubt that he's well off. He's calledThe Wise, the Rich, by all the Jewish folk.SITTAH.Now more than ever is he named the Rich.The town resounds with news of costly stuffsAnd priceless treasures he has brought with him.AL-HAFI.Is he the Rich once more? Then, do not fear,He'll be the Wise again.SITTAH.What think you? WillYou visit him, Al-Hafi?AL-HAFI.What, to borrow?You know him, surely! Think you he will lend?His very wisdom lies in this--that heWill lend to no one.SITTAH.Formerly you gaveA picture very different of him.AL-HAFI.In case of need he'll lend you merchandise;But money--money--never! He's a Jew,Who has not many equals 'mongst his tribe.He's wise, knows how to live, can play at chess;Excels in evil, too, as well as good.Rely not on him. To the poor, indeed,He vies with Saladin himself in gifts;And if not quite so much, he gives as freely,To Jew, and Christian, and Mahometan--To all alike.SITTAH.And such a man as this----SALADIN.How comes it, then, I never heard of him?SITTAH.Can he refuse to lend to Saladin,Who wants for others--never for himself.AL-HAFI.Ay, there peeps out the Jew--the vulgar Jew:Believe me, he is jealous, enviousOf generosity. It seems as thoughTo earn God's favour were his special mission.And that he may possess wherewith to give,He never lends. The law he serves, commandsThat he show mercy, but not complaisance.Thus him has mercy made the rudest churlIn all the world. 'Tis true I have not beenThis long time past on friendly terms with him,But do not think that I would do him wrong,He's good in all things else, but not in that;Therefore I'll go and knock at other doors.I recollect this instant an old Moor,Who's rich and covetous: I'll go to him. (Exit.)SITTAH.Why in such haste, Al-Hafi?SALADIN.Let him go.SceneIII.Sittah,Saladin.SITTAH.He speeds away, as though he would escape.Why so? Is he indeed himself deceived,Or would he now mislead me?SALADIN.Can I guess?I scarcely know the man of whom you speak,And, for the first time, hear to-day of him.SITTAH.Can it be possible you know him notWho, it is said, has visited theOf Solomon and David; knows the spellTo ope their marble lids, and thence obtainThe boundless stores that claim no lesser source.SALADIN.Were this man's wealth by miracle procured,'Tis not at Solomon's or David's tombThat it is found. Mere mortal fools lie there.SITTAH.Or knaves!--But still his source of opulenceIs more productive, more exhaustless thanA cave of Mammon.SALADIN.For he trades, I'm told.SITTAH.His caravans through every desert toil,His laden camels throng the public roads,His ships in every harbour furl their sails.Al-Hafi long ago has told me this,Adding, with pride, how Nathan gives away,What he esteems it noble to have earnedBy patient industry, for others' wants;How free from bias is his lofty soul,His heart to every virtue how unlocked,To every lovely feeling how allied!SALADIN.And yet Al-Hafi spoke with coldness of him.SITTAH.Not coldness, but unwillingness, as ifHe deemed it dangerous to praise too much,Yet knew not how to blame without a cause.Or can it be, in truth, that e'en the bestAmongst a tribe can never quite escapeThe foibles of their race, and that, in fact,Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan?But come what may, let him be Jew or not,If he be rich, that is enough for me.SALADIN.You would not, sister, take his--wealth by force?SITTAH.By force? What mean you? Fire and sword? Oh, no!What force is necessary with the weakBut their own weakness? Come awhile with me,Into my harem. I have bought a songstressYou have not heard--she came but yesterday.Meanwhile I'll think upon a subtle planFor this same Nathan. Follow, Saladin!SceneIV.The Place of Palms, nearNathan'shouse, from whichRechaandNathanare coming;Daja,meeting them.RECHA.Dear father! you have been so slow, that youWill scarcely meet him now.NATHAN.Well, well, my child;If not beneath the palms, be sure that weShall meet him somewhere else. Be satisfied.Is not that Daja whom I see approaching?RECHA.She certainly has lost him.NATHAN.Wherefore so?RECHA.Her pace were quicker else.NATHAN.She has not seen us.
And yet no more
Than he had learned already. He would ask
Why you, of all the captives doomed to die,
Alone were spared?
Can I myself tell that?
Already with bare neck I had knelt down
Upon my mantle, to await the stroke,
When Saladin with steadfast eye surveys me.
Nearer he draws--he makes a sign--they raise me--
I am unbound--I would express my thanks--
I mark the tear-drop glisten in his eye--
We both stand mute--he turns and leaves the spot--
I stay. And now, how all this hangs together,
The Patriarch must explain.
The Patriarch thinks
That Heaven preserved you for some mighty deed.
Some mighty deed? To rescue from the flames
A Jewish maid! To lead to Sinai's mount
Bands of inquiring pilgrims--and the like!
The time may come for more important tasks:
Perhaps the Patriarch has already planned
Some mighty business for you.
Think you so?
Has he already given you a hint?
Yes--but my task is first to sift a little,
To see if you are one to undertake----
Well--sift away? (We'll see how this man sifts).
The better course will be to name at once
What is the Patriarch's desire.
It is----?
To make you bearer of a letter.
Me?
I am no carrier. Is that the office
More meritorious than to save from death
A Jewish maid?
So, truly, it would seem.
The Patriarch says that this little note
Involves the general weal of Christendom,
And that to bear it to its destined hand,
Safely, will merit a peculiar crown
From Heaven--and of that crown, the Patriarch
Says none can worthier be than you.
Than I!
You have your liberty--can look around;
You understand how cities may be stormed,
And how defended, says the Patriarch;
You know the strength and weakness of the towers,
And of the inner rampart lately reared
By Saladin, and you could point out all
To the Lord's champions fully.
May I know
Exactly the contents of this same letter?
Of that I am not quite informed myself.
'Tis to King Philip; and our Patriarch--
I often wonder how that holy man,
Whose every thought would seem absorbed by Heaven,
Can stoop to earthly things, and how his mind
Can be so deeply skilled in human lore----
Well, then, your Patriarch----
Exactly knows
From secret sources, how, and with what force,
And in what quarter, should the war break out,
The foe and Saladin will take the field.
Knows he so much?
Ay, truly! and he longs
To send the urgent tidings to King Philip,
That he may better calculate if now
The danger be so great, as to demand
At every hazard that he should renew
The truce so boldly broken by the Templars.
The noble Patriarch! He seeks in me
No common herald, but the meanest spy.
Therefore, good brother, tell your Patriarch,
That I am not--as far as you can sift--
The man to suit his ends. I hold myself
A captive still. I know a Templar's duty:
Ready to die, not live to play the spy.
I thought as much. Nor can I censure you
For your resolve. The best has still to come.
Our Patriarch has learnt the very fort,
Its name, its strength, its site on Lebanon,
Wherein those countless treasures are concealed,
Wherewith the Sultan's prudent father pays
His troops, and all the heavy costs of war.
He knows that Saladin, from time to time,
Visits this fortress, by some secret way,
With but a few attendants.
Well! what then?
'Twould be an easy task, methinks, to seize
The Sultan thus defenceless--and to end him.
You shudder, knight! Two monks who fear the Lord,
Are ready now to undertake the task,
And wait a leader.
And the Patriarch
Has pitched on me to do this noble deed?
He thinks King Philip might from Ptolemais
Give aid in the design.
Has pitched on me!
On me!--Say, brother, have you never heard
The boundless debt I owe to Saladin?
Truly I have.
And yet----
The Patriarch
Says that is very well; but yet your order,
And vows to God----
Change nothing; they command
No villainy.
No. But the Patriarch
Says what seems villainy to human eyes,
May not appear so in the sight of God.
Brother, I owe my life to Saladin,
And his shall my hand take?
Oh, no!--But yet
The Patriarch maintains that Saladin,
Who is the common foe of Christendom,
Can never have a claim to be your friend.
My friend? forsooth! because I will not be
A thankless wretch to him!
'Tis so!--But yet
The Patriarch thinks gratitude is not
Before the eyes of God or man, a debt,
Unless, for our own sakes, some benefit
Has been conferred; and, says the Patriarch,
It is affirmed the Sultan spared your life
Merely because your voice, your look, your air,
Awoke a recollection of his brother----
He knows all this, and yet?----Ah, were it true!
And, Saladin, could Nature form in me
A single feature in thy brother's likeness,
With nothing in my soul to answer it?
Or what does correspond, shall I belie
To please a Patriarch? No, surely Nature
Could never lie so basely! Nor, kind God,
Couldst thou so contradict Thyself! Go, brother,
And do not rouse my anger.
I withdraw
More gladly than I came. And, pardon me:
A monk's first duty, sir, is to obey.
(She has been watching him from afar and now approaches.)
Methinks the monk left him in no good mood,
But, spite of that, I must my errand risk.
This hits exactly. As the proverb goes,
Women and monks are ever Satan's tools,
And I to-day am subject to them both.
Whom do I see? Thank God, our noble knight.
Where have you been so long? Not ill, I hope?
No.
In good health?
Yes.
We have all been grieved
Lest something should have ailed you. Have you been
Upon a journey?
Fairly guessed.
Since when
Have you returned to us?
Since yesterday.
Our Recha's father, too, is just returned,
And now may Recha hope at last.
For what?
For what she has so often asked in vain.
Her father pressingly invites you too.
He lately has arrived from Babylon
With twenty camels, bearing precious stones,
And stuffs and fragrant spices, which he sought
In India, Persia, Syria, and China.
I am no merchant.
He is much esteemed
By all his nation--honoured as a prince--
And yet to hear how he is named by all
Nathanthe Wise, and notthe Rich, seems strange.
It often makes me wonder.
But to them
It may be,wiseand rich--both mean the same.
It seems to me he should be calledthe Good,
So rich a store of goodness dwells in him.
Since he has learned the weighty debt he owes
For service done to Recha there is nought
He would withhold from you.
Well?
Try him, sir!
What then? A moment passes soon away.
I had not dwelt with him so many years
Were he less kind. I know a Christian's worth,
And it was never o'er my cradle sung
That I to Palestine should wend my way,
Following a husband's steps, to educate
A Jewish maid. My husband was a page,
A noble page, in Emperor Frederick's court----
By birth a Swiss, who earned the sorry fame
Of drowning in one river with his lord.
Woman! how often have you told this tale?
When will you cease to persecute me thus?
To persecute you!
Ay, to persecute!
Now mark me. I will never see you more,
Hear you, nor be reminded of a deed
Performed at random. When I think of it,
I wonder somewhat, though I ne'er repent.
But hear me still. Should such a fatal chance
Again occur, you have yourself to blame
If I proceed more calmly, question first.
And let what's burning, burn.
Great God forbid!
And now I have a favour to implore.
Know me henceforth no more. Grant me this grace,
And save me from her father; for with me
A Jew's a Jew; a Swabian blunt am I.
The image of the maid is now erased
Out of my soul--if it was ever there.
But yours remains with her.
Well, and what then?
Who knows? Men are not always what they seem.
They're seldom better.(Going.)
Stay a little while.
What need of haste?
Woman! forbear to make
These palm--trees odious: I have loved their shade.
Then go, thou German bear! Yet I must follow him.
(She follow him at a distance.)
SaladinandSittah(playing at chess).
Where are your thoughts? How ill you play, dear brother!
Not well in truth--and yet I thought----
Oh, yes!
You're playing well for me; take back that move.
Why?
Don't you see you leave your knight exposed?
Ay, true!--then so.
And now I take your pawn.
That's true again, dear Sittah! Well, then, check!
That will not help you--I protect my king,
And all is safe again.
Well, out of this
Dilemma 'tis not easy to escape.
I cannot save the knight.
I pass him by;
I will not take him.
Well, I owe you nothing;
The place you gain is better than the piece.
Perhaps.
But reckon not without your host;
You did not see that move.
Not I, indeed;
I did not think you weary of your queen.
My queen!
Well, well! I see that I to-day
Shall win my thousand dinars and no more.
Why so?
Why so? Because designedly
You lose the game! You vex me, Saladin!
I find no pleasure in a game like this.
And even when I lose, I come off well;
For, to console me for the games you win,
You force me to accept a double stake.
In that case, then, it may be by design
That you have sometimes lost. Is that the truth?
At least your generosity's to blame
That I improve so little in my play.
But we forget the game; come, finish it.
Well, 'tis my move; now, check to king and queen!
Indeed! I did not see the double check.
I lose my queen.
Let's see! Can it be helped?
No, take the queen--I have no luck with her.
Only with her?
Remove her from the board,
I shall not miss her. Now I am right again.
I know from lessons which yourself have taught
How courteously we should behave to queens.
(Offering to restore the piece.)
Take her or not, I shall not move her more.
Why need I take her? Check, and check!
Go on.
Check, check, and check again!
'Tis checkmate now.
Hold!--no, not yet. You may advance the knight,
And ward the danger. But 'twill be the same.
You are the winner, and Al-Hafi pays.
Let him be called, Sittah! You were not wrong.
My thoughts were wandering--were not in the game,
But who gives us so oft these shapeless bits
Of wood? which speak of naught--suggest no thought.
Was it with Iman that I've played--Well, well,
Ill-luck is ever wont to seek excuse.
Not the unmeaning squares or shapeless men
Have made me heedless; your dexterity,
Your calm, sharp eye, dear Sittah!
What of that?
Is that to blunt the sting of your defeat?
Enough--your thoughts were wandering more than mine.
Than yours? What subject could engage your thoughts?
Far different cares than those which trouble you.
But, Saladin, say, when shall we again
Resume this pleasant pastime?
Dearest Sittah,
This interruption will but whet our zeal.
Your thoughts are on the war: well, let it come--
'Twas not my arm that first unsheathed the sword;
I would have willingly prolonged the truce,
And willingly have knit a tender bond,
For Sittah's sake, with Richard's noble brother.
How pleased you are, can you but praise your Richard.
If Richard's sister had but been bestowed
Upon our brother Melek, what a house
Had then been ours! the best, the happiest
The earth could boast. You know I am not slow
To praise myself: I'm worthy of my friends.
What men these unions would have given us!
Did I not smile at once at your fine dreams?
You do not, will not, know the Christian race.
It is their pride not to be men, but Christians.
The virtue which their founder felt and taught,
The charity He mingled with their creed,
Is valued, not because it is humane,
And good, and lovely, but for this alone,
That it was Christ who taught it, Christ who did it.
'Tis well for them He was so good a man,
Well that they take His goodness all on trust,
And in His virtues put their faith. His virtues!
'Tis not His virtues, but His name alone
They wish to thrust upon us--His mere name,
Which they desire should overspread the world,
Should swallow up the name of all good men,
And put the rest to shame. 'Tis for His name
Alone they care.
Else, Sittah, as you say,
They would not have required that you and Melek
Should be called Christians, ere they suffered you
To feel for Christians the pure flame of love.
As if from Christians, and from them alone,
That love can be expected, which the hand
Of our Creator gives to man and wife.
Christians believe such vain absurdities,
That this may be among them. And yet, Sittah,
The Templars, not the Christians, are in this
To blame. 'Tis they alone who thwart my plans;
'Tis they who still hold Acca, pledged to us
By treaty as the dower of Richard's sister.
And, to maintain their order's interests,
They use this cant--the nonsense of the monk.
Scarce would they wait until the truce expired
To fall upon us. But, go on, good sirs!
Would that all else may thrive as well as this!
Why, what else troubles you? What other care
Have you to struggle with?
That constant grief--
I've been to Lebanon, and seen our father.
He's full of care.
Alas!
He must give way.
Straitened on every side, no aid, no help,
Nothing comes in.
What ails him, Saladin?
The only thing that I am loth to name,
Which, when I have it, so superfluous seems,
And, when I have it not, so necessary.
Where is Al-Hafi? Have they gone for him?
Will no one go? Oh, fatal, cursed money!
Welcome, Al-Hafi! You are come at last.
TheDervise Al-Hafi,Saladin,andSittah.
The gold from Egypt, I suppose, is come.
Say, is it much?
What! have you heard of it?
Not I. I thought I should receive it here.
Sittah has won a thousand dinars, pay them.
Pay without getting. That is worse than nothing!
And still to Sittah--once again for chess!
But let us see the board; how stands the game?
You grudge me my good fortune?
Grudge you? When--
You know too well----
Oh, hush! Al-Hafi, hush!
Don't grudge it to yourself.
Al-Hafi, hush!
And were the white men yours?
You gave the check?
'Tis well he does not hear.
The move is his.
Then promise me that I shall have the money.
You shall receive it as you've always done.
How! are you mad?
The game's not over yet.
You have not lost it, Saladin.
Oh, yes;
Pay down the money.
Pay! here stands the queen.
She's of no use; she's lost.
Do say that I
May send and fetch the gold.
Oh, yes! of course.
But though the queen be lost, you are not mate.
I say I am. I will be mate.
If so,
Small pains, small gains, say I. So got, so spent.
What is he muttering there?
You know him well.
He likes entreaties--loves to be implored.
Who knows if he be not a little jealous?
Well, not of thee--not of my sister, surely.
What do I hear? Al-Hafi, are you jealous?
Perhaps I am. I wish I had her head,
Or that I were as good as she.
My brother,
He always pays me fairly, and to-day
He'll do the same. Let him alone. Now go!
Al-Hafi! go! I'll have the money----
No, not I.
I'll act this farce no more. He must know soon.
Who? what?
Al-Hafi! say, is this your promise?
Is't thus you keep your word?
Could I foresee
That it would come to this?
Well, tell me all.
Al-Hafi! I implore you, be discreet.
'Tis very strange; and what can Sittah have
So earnestly to sue for, from a stranger--
A Dervise--rather than from me, her brother?
Al-Hafi, I command you. Dervise, speak.
Let not a trifle touch my brother nearer
Than is becoming, for you know that I
Have often won as much from you at chess.
But as I stand in little need of gold,
I've left the money in Al-Hafi's chest,
Which is not over full; but never fear,
It is not my intention to bestow
My wealth on either of you.
Were this all!
Some more such trifles are perhaps unclaimed:
My own allowance, which you set apart
Has lain some months untouched.
Nor is this all.
Then tell the whole.
Whilst we've been waiting for
The gold from Egypt, she----
Nay, hear him not.
Not only has had nothing,----
Dearest sister I--
But also has been lending it to you?
Ay! at her sole expense maintained your state.
So like my sister!
Who but you, my brother,
Could make me rich enough to have the power?
And soon he'll make her once again as poor
As he is now.
I poor! her brother poor!
When had I more--when had I less than now?
A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and my God!
What need I else? and these ne'er can I lack.
And yet, Al-Hafi, I could scold you now.
Nay, brother, do not scold. I would that I
Could thus also relieve our father's cares!
Ah! now my joy has vanished all at once.
We can want nothing; but he's destitute.
And whilst he wants, we all are poor indeed.
What shall I do? From Egypt we can hope
For nothing--though God only knows the cause.
'Tis general peace around, and as for me,
I could live sparingly, reduce, retrench,
If none else suffered; but 'twould not avail.
A cloak, a horse, a sword I ne'er can want.
As to my God, He is not to be bought.
He asks but little, only asks my heart.
I had relied, Al-Hafi, on your chest,
Upon the surplus there.
A surplus there!
Say, should I not have been impaled or hanged,
If I had been detected hoarding up
A surplus? Deficits I might have ventured.
Well, but what next? Could you have found out none
To borrow from, but Sittah?
And would I
Have borne it, had another been preferred?
I claim that privilege. I am not yet
Quite beggared.
No, not quite. Dear Sittah, this
Alone was wanting. But, Al-Hafi, go,
Inquire about, take where and what you can;
Borrow on promise, contract, anyhow;
But, mark me, not from those I have enriched.
'Twould seem as if I wished to have it back.
Go to the covetous. They gladliest lend.
They know how well their money thrives with me.
I know of none.
I recollect just now,
I heard, Al-Hafi, of your friend's return.
Friend! friend of mine! and who can that be, pray?
Your boasted Jew.
A Jew! and praised by me!
On whom his God--I think I recollect
The very words you used, as touching him--
On whom his God, of all the choicest goods
Of earth, in full abundance, has bestowed
The greatest and the least.
What could I mean
When I said so?
The least of good things--wealth.
The greatest--wisdom!
How! and of a Jew
Did I say that?
Ay, that you did--of Nathan.
Oh, true! of Nathan--yes! He did not now
Occur to me. But he's returned at last,
Then do not doubt that he's well off. He's called
The Wise, the Rich, by all the Jewish folk.
Now more than ever is he named the Rich.
The town resounds with news of costly stuffs
And priceless treasures he has brought with him.
Is he the Rich once more? Then, do not fear,
He'll be the Wise again.
What think you? Will
You visit him, Al-Hafi?
What, to borrow?
You know him, surely! Think you he will lend?
His very wisdom lies in this--that he
Will lend to no one.
Formerly you gave
A picture very different of him.
In case of need he'll lend you merchandise;
But money--money--never! He's a Jew,
Who has not many equals 'mongst his tribe.
He's wise, knows how to live, can play at chess;
Excels in evil, too, as well as good.
Rely not on him. To the poor, indeed,
He vies with Saladin himself in gifts;
And if not quite so much, he gives as freely,
To Jew, and Christian, and Mahometan--
To all alike.
And such a man as this----
How comes it, then, I never heard of him?
Can he refuse to lend to Saladin,
Who wants for others--never for himself.
Ay, there peeps out the Jew--the vulgar Jew:
Believe me, he is jealous, envious
Of generosity. It seems as though
To earn God's favour were his special mission.
And that he may possess wherewith to give,
He never lends. The law he serves, commands
That he show mercy, but not complaisance.
Thus him has mercy made the rudest churl
In all the world. 'Tis true I have not been
This long time past on friendly terms with him,
But do not think that I would do him wrong,
He's good in all things else, but not in that;
Therefore I'll go and knock at other doors.
I recollect this instant an old Moor,
Who's rich and covetous: I'll go to him. (Exit.)
Why in such haste, Al-Hafi?
Let him go.
Sittah,Saladin.
He speeds away, as though he would escape.
Why so? Is he indeed himself deceived,
Or would he now mislead me?
Can I guess?
I scarcely know the man of whom you speak,
And, for the first time, hear to-day of him.
Can it be possible you know him not
Who, it is said, has visited the
Of Solomon and David; knows the spell
To ope their marble lids, and thence obtain
The boundless stores that claim no lesser source.
Were this man's wealth by miracle procured,
'Tis not at Solomon's or David's tomb
That it is found. Mere mortal fools lie there.
Or knaves!--But still his source of opulence
Is more productive, more exhaustless than
A cave of Mammon.
For he trades, I'm told.
His caravans through every desert toil,
His laden camels throng the public roads,
His ships in every harbour furl their sails.
Al-Hafi long ago has told me this,
Adding, with pride, how Nathan gives away,
What he esteems it noble to have earned
By patient industry, for others' wants;
How free from bias is his lofty soul,
His heart to every virtue how unlocked,
To every lovely feeling how allied!
And yet Al-Hafi spoke with coldness of him.
Not coldness, but unwillingness, as if
He deemed it dangerous to praise too much,
Yet knew not how to blame without a cause.
Or can it be, in truth, that e'en the best
Amongst a tribe can never quite escape
The foibles of their race, and that, in fact,
Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan?
But come what may, let him be Jew or not,
If he be rich, that is enough for me.
You would not, sister, take his--wealth by force?
By force? What mean you? Fire and sword? Oh, no!
What force is necessary with the weak
But their own weakness? Come awhile with me,
Into my harem. I have bought a songstress
You have not heard--she came but yesterday.
Meanwhile I'll think upon a subtle plan
For this same Nathan. Follow, Saladin!
The Place of Palms, nearNathan'shouse, from whichRechaandNathanare coming;Daja,meeting them.
Dear father! you have been so slow, that you
Will scarcely meet him now.
Well, well, my child;
If not beneath the palms, be sure that we
Shall meet him somewhere else. Be satisfied.
Is not that Daja whom I see approaching?
She certainly has lost him.
Wherefore so?
Her pace were quicker else.
She has not seen us.