Act IV Scene I — The Cloisters of the Convent
The Friar, and presently afterwards the Templar.
Friar
Ay, ay! he must be right, the Patriarch!
And yet, of all his business, no great part
Has prospered in my hands. But why should he
Entrust such tasks to me? I have no wish
To play the knave, to wheedle and persuade,
To worm out secrets, and to thrust my hand
Into my neighbour’s business. Not for this
Did I renounce the world, that I might be
Entangled with its cares for other men.
Templar (Entering Abruptly)
Good brother, are you here? I’ve sought you long.
Friar
Me, sir?
Templar
What, don’t you recollect me, then?
Friar
Ay! but, Sir Knight, I never thought to see
Your face again—and so I hoped in God.
God knows how much I hated the proposal
Which I was bound to make you, and He knows
How little I desired you should assent,
How in my inmost soul I was rejoiced
When you refused, without a moment’s thought,
To do what had been shameful in a Knight.
But have you thought the matter o’er again?
Templar
You seem to know what object brings me here.
Friar
Have you, Sir Knight, reflected by this time,
That our good Patriarch is not much deceived
In thinking gold and glory may be won
By his commission? that a foe’s a foe,
Were he our guardian angel seven times o’er?
Have you ’gainst flesh and blood weighed all these things,
And are you come to strike a bargain now?
Templar
My dear good man, be patient; not for this
Am I come hither; not for aught like this
Do I desire to see the Patriarch.
On every point my thoughts remain unchanged;
Nor would I for the wealth of all this world
Forfeit that good opinion, which I won
From such an upright, honest man as you.
I merely come to ask the Patriarch
For counsel.
Friar (Looking Round Timidly)
Counsel from the Patriarch!
What, you! a knight to ask a priest’s advice!
Templar
Mine is a priestly business.
Friar
Yet the priests
Would scorn a knight’s advice, were their affairs
Ever so knightly.
Templar
Therefore they’re allowed
To err sometimes, a privilege which I,
For one, don’t greatly envy them; and yet,
If I were acting only for myself,
And were not bound to others, I should care
But little for advice. But in some things
’Twere better to go wrong by others’ guidance
Than, by our own, go right. And I observe,
By this time, that religion’s naught but party,
And he who in his own belief is most
Impartial, does but hold the standard up
Of his own creed, howe’er unconsciously.
Yet since ’tis so, it must be right.
Friar
I’m silent.
In truth, I don’t quite comprehend.
Templar
And yet—
(Let me consider first what ’tis I want—
Decision or advice from sage or simple?)
Thanks, brother; yes, I thank you for your hint.
What is a patriarch? Be thou for once
My patriarch; for ’tis the Christian rather
Whom in the patriarch I would consult,
Than in the Christian the mere patriarch.
Friar
Hold, hold, Sir Knight! no more of this, I find
That you mistake me. He who hath learnt much
Must needs have many cares. I know but one——
But hark, behold! here comes the very man!
’Tis he, so stay; he has perceived us both.
Scene II
The Patriarch, after marching up one of the aisles with great pomp, approaches.
Templar
I’d rather shun him—he is not my man—
A round, red smiling prelate! And what state!
Friar
But you should see him at a festival,
Now he but comes from visiting the sick.
Templar
Great Saladin will then have cause to blush.
Patriarch (Coming Forward, Makes Signs to the Friar)
Was that the Templar? What’s his business here?
Friar
I know not.
Patriarch (Advancing, Whilst the Friar and His Train Retire.)
Well, Sir Knight, I’m truly glad
To meet so brave a youth. So very young,
Something may come of him, if Heaven assist.
Templar
Not more than has already come of him,
But rather less, my reverend father.
Patriarch
Well,
It is my prayer that so devout a Knight
May for the cause of Christendom and God
Be long preserved; nor can it fail to be,
If valour will give ear to aged words.
Then say, how can I serve you, Sir?
Templar
With that
In which my youth’s deficient—sound advice.
Patriarch
Most gladly, if you’ll follow my advice.
Templar
Not blindly, though.
Patriarch
Whose words are those? Indeed,
None should neglect to use the intellect
Bestowed by God, when it is suitable.
But is it always suitable? O no!
If God, through one of the celestial choir—
That is, through one of the blest ministers
Of His most sacred word—should condescend
To show some way by which the Church’s weal,
Or else the general good of Christendom,
Might be secured, what man would venture then
To weigh the laws of intellect against
His will, who fashioned intellect itself?
Or measure the unchanged decrees of Heaven
By empty rules that suit this petty world?
But of all this enough. Now tell me, Knight,
Wherefore you seek our counsel?
Templar
Reverend father!
Suppose a Jew possessed an only child—
A girl—whom he with fond parental care
Trained to each virtue, treasured as his soul,
Whilst she, with love as ardent as his own,
Repaid his love,—suppose it rumoured then
That she was not the daughter of this Jew,
But a poor orphan, purchased in her youth,
Or stolen, or found—or anything, but still
Of Christian birth, and in her youth baptised,
And that the Jew had reared her in his faith,
Allowed her to be thought a Jewish maid,
And firmly to believe herself his child,—
Say, reverend father, what should then be done?
Patriarch
I shudder at the thought! But, worthy Sir,
Say, is this fact, or mere hypothesis?
That is, if your own head has framed the case,
Or has it happened—does it still exist?
Templar
That’s unimportant, and could not assist
Your reverence to pronounce upon the point.
Patriarch
What! unimportant! See, Sir Knight, how apt
Proud reason is to err in sacred things.
’Tis of deep import; though, ’tis true, the case
May be the offspring of your sportive wit,
When we should straight dismiss it from our thoughts,
And I should then refer you to the stage
Where pros and cons like these are oft discussed
With loud applause. But if the object be,
By something better than a sleight of hand,
To sound my judgment, if the thing be fact,
And may have happened in our diocese,
Here in our dear Jerusalem itself,
Why then——
Templar
What then?
Patriarch
Then were it well, Sir Knight,
To execute at once upon the Jew
The penalty provided for the case,
By Papal and Imperial laws, against
So foul a crime, such dire iniquity.
Templar
Indeed!
Patriarch
The laws I mention have decreed
That if a Jew shall to apostasy
Seduce a Christian, he shall die by fire.
Templar
Indeed!
Patriarch
How much more when a Jew by force
Tears from baptismal bonds a Christian child?
For all that’s done to children is by force,
Save what the Church shall order and perform.
Templar
What if the child were steeped in misery,
And must have died, but for this bounteous Jew?
Patriarch
It matters not: the Jew should still be burnt.
’Twere better to expire in misery,
Than live to suffer never-ending pains.
The Jew moreover should not have forestalled
The hand of God, whom had He willed to save,
Could save without him.
Templar
Make him happy too,
In spite of him.
Patriarch
It matters not, the Jew
Must still be burnt.
Templar
That grieves me very much,
And all the more, as people say that he
Has reared the child not in his own belief,
So much as in no faith at all, and taught
Her neither more nor less of God than is By reason asked.
Patriarch
It matters not, the Jew
Must still be burnt—and for this very cause
Would merit threefold death. To rear a child
Without a faith! Not even teach a child
The greatest of all duties—to believe!
’Tis heinous, and I’m rapt in wonder, Knight,
That you yourself——
Templar
Oh, reverend Sir, the rest
In the confessional, if God allow. (Is going.)
Patriarch
What, going! and not await my questioning!
Not name to me this infidel, this Jew!
Not find him out for me at once! But, hold!
A thought occurs. I’ll to the Sultan straight.
According to the treaty we have sworn
With Saladin, he must protect our creed
With all the privileges, all the rights
That appertain to our most holy faith.
Thank God! we have retained the deed itself,
With seal and signature affixed, and we
Can readily convince him, make him feel
How full of peril for the state it is Not to believe. All civil bonds are rent
Asunder, torn to pieces, Knight, when men
Have no belief. Away, away for ever
With such impiety!
Templar
I much deplore
That I want time to relish this discourse,
This holy sermon. Saladin awaits
My coming.
Patriarch
Ah, indeed!
Templar
And I’ll prepare
The Sultan for your presence, reverend Sir,
If you desire.
Patriarch
Why, yes! for I have heard
You have found favour in the Sultan’s sight.
I beg to be remembered with respect.
Zeal in the cause of God impels me on,
And all excesses are performed for Him.
Weigh that in kindness, then, most noble Sir!
But, tell me, was your case about the Jew
A problem merely?
Templar
Problem! (He retires.)
Patriarch
(Of the facts,
I must have fuller knowledge. I must be
Better informed; ’twill be another job
For brother Bonafides.) Son, come hither!
(Speaks with the Friar as he retires.)
Scene III
Saladin’s Palace.
(Slaves are employed in bringing bags of gold, and piling them on the floor.)
Saladin, Sittah.
Saladin
In truth, this weary business ne’er will end;
Say, is it nearly done?
A Slave
One half is done.
Saladin
Then take the rest to Sittah? Where’s Al-Hafi?
He must take charge of what is here. But, hold,
Were it not best to send it to my father?
Here ’twill be quickly spent. I feel, in truth,
That I am growing miserly. At last
He must be skilful who gets much from me,
And till from Egypt further treasure comes,
Our poverty must be content to struggle.
Yet, at the Holy Sepulchre, the cost
Of all the Christian pilgrims must be paid;
They must, at least, not go with empty hands.
Sittah
Why, what is this? wherefore this gold to me?
Saladin
Recoup yourself with it, if aught is left,
Keep it in store.
Sittah
Are Nathan and the Knight
Not yet arrived?
Saladin
The former everywhere
Is seeking him.
Sittah
Behold what I have found
In turning o’er my ornaments and jewels (showing a small portrait).
Saladin
Ha! what is here! a portrait! yes, my brother!
’Tis he—’tis he! Was he—was he, alas!
Oh dear, brave youth! so early lost to me!
With thee at hand what had I not achieved!
Give me the portrait, Sittah. I recall
This picture well. He gave it to his Lilla—
Your elder sister—when one summer morn
He tore himself away reluctantly.
She would not yield, but clasped him in her arms.
’Twas the last morning that he e’er rode forth,
And I, alas! I let him ride alone.
Poor Lilla died of grief, and ne’er forgave
My error that I let him ride alone.
He ne’er returned.
Sittah
Poor brother!
Saladin
Say no more.
A few short years, and we shall ne’er return.
And then who knows? But ’tis not death alone
That blights the hopes and promises of youth,
They have far other foes, and oftentimes
The strongest, like the weakest, is o’ercome.
But be that as it may, I must compare
This portrait with the Templar, that I may
Observe how much my fancy cheated me.
Sittah
’Twas for that purpose that I brought it here.
But give it, and I’ll tell thee if ’tis like:
We women are best judges of such things.
Saladin (to the Doorkeeper Who Enters)
Who’s there? the Templar? Bid him come at once.
Sittah
Not to disturb you, or perplex him with My curious questions, I’ll retire awhile. (Throws herself upon the sofa, and lets her veil fall.)
Saladin
That’s well. (And now his voice—will that be like?
For Assad’s voice still slumbers in my soul!)
Scene IV
The Templar and Saladin.
Templar
I am your prisoner, Sultan.
Saladin
You my prisoner!
Shall I refuse him liberty, whose life
I freely spared?
Templar
It is my duty, Sire,
To hear, and not anticipate, your will.
Yet it but ill becomes my character
And station, Sultan, to be thus profuse
Of gratitude because you’ve spared my life—
A life which henceforth is at your command.
Saladin
Only forbear to use it to my hurt.
Not that I grudge my mortal enemy
Another pair of hands; but such a heart
As yours I do not yield him willingly.
You valiant youth! I have not gauged you ill:
In soul and body, you are truly Assad.
I fain would learn where you have been so long
Concealed. In what dim cavern you have slept?
What spirit, in some region of the blest,
Has kept this beauteous flower so fresh in bloom?
Methinks I could remind you of our sports
In days gone by; and I could chide you, too,
For having kept one secret from my ear,
For having dared one gallant deed alone.
I’m happy that so much of this deceit
At least is true, that in my sear of life
An Assad blooms for me once more. And you,
You too are happy, Knight!
Templar
Whate’er you will—
Whatever be your thought—lies as a wish
Within mine inmost soul.
Saladin
We’ll prove you, then.
Will you abide with me?—cling to my side,
Whether as Christian or as Mussulman,
In turban or white mantle? Choose your garb—
Choose for yourself. I never have desired
That the same bark should grow on every tree.
Templar
Else, Saladin, you never had become
The hero that you are—who’d rather be
The gardener of the Lord.
Saladin
If thus you think
Of Saladin, we’re half agreed, already——
Templar
Nay, quite!
Saladin (Offering His Hand)
One word!
Templar (Taking It)
One man! and with this hand
Take more than you can e’er take back again.
Henceforth I’m wholly yours.
Saladin
This is too much—
For one day ’tis too much! Came he not with you?
Templar
Who?
Saladin
Who? Nathan.
Templar
No; I came alone.
Saladin
Oh, what a deed was thine! what happiness
That such a deed should serve so good a man!
Templar
’Twas nothing.
Saladin
Why so cold, O valiant youth!
When God makes man His minister of good,
He need not be so cold, nor modestly
Wish to appear so cold.
Templar
But in the world
All things have many sides, and who is he
Can comprehend how they may fit each other?
Saladin
Cling ever to what’s noble, and praise God!
He knows how all things fit. But if you are So scrupulous, young man, I must beware.
I too have many sides, and some of them
May seem to you not always made to fit.
Templar
That grieves me; for suspicion, at the least,
Is not a sin of mine.
Saladin
Then, tell me, whom
Do you suspect? Not Nathan, surely? What!
Nathan suspected, and by you? Explain—
Afford me this first proof of confidence.
Templar
I’ve nothing against Nathan. I am vexed,
But with myself alone.
Saladin
Why so?
Templar
For dreaming
That any Jew can think himself no Jew.
I dreamt this waking.
Saladin
Tell me all your dream.
Templar
You know that Nathan has a daughter, Sultan!
And what I did for her, I did—because
I did it. Far too proud to reap the thanks
I had not sown, from day to day I shunned
The maiden’s sight. Her father was afar.
He comes, he hears, he seeks me, give me thanks;
Wishes that she might please me, and he talks
Of dawning prospects. Well, I hear it all,
I listen to him, go and see the maid—
O! such a maiden, Sultan. But, I blush.
Saladin
Why blush? Blush that a Jewish maid should win
Your admiration? ’Tis a venial fault.
Templar
But oh! that, through her father’s sweet discourse,
To this impression my o’er-hasty heart
Such weak resistance offered! Fool. I leaped
A second time into the flame, and then
I wooed, and was denied.
Saladin
Denied?—denied?
Templar
The prudent father does not plainly say
No, to my suit—but he must first inquire—
He must reflect. Well, be it so. Had I
Not done the same? I looked about, inquired—
Reflected—ere I plunged into the flames
Where she was shrieking. Oh, by Heaven! it is
A splendid thing to be so circumspect!
Saladin
Nay, but you must concede somewhat to age.
His doubts will pass away, nor will he wish
You to become a Jew.
Templar
Who knows?
Saladin
Who knows!
One who knows Nathan better than yourself.
Templar
And yet the superstitions we have learned
From education, do not lose their power
When we have found them out; nor are all free
Whose judgment mocks the galling chains they wear.
Saladin
’Tis wisely said; but Nathan, surely Nathan——
Templar
That superstition is the worst of all
Which thinks itself the easiest to be borne——
Saladin
’Tis possible. But Nathan——
Templar
And to trust
To it alone a blind humanity
Till it is used to truth’s more brilliant light.
To it alone——
Saladin
Well, well! But Nathan’s fate
Is not to be so weak——
Templar
I thought so once,
But what if this bright pattern to mankind
Were such a thorough Jew that he seeks out
For Christian children to bring up as Jews?
How then?
Saladin
Who speaks so of him?
Templar
E’en the maid
For whom I’m so distressed, with hopes of whom
He seemed so glad to recompense the deed
He would not suffer me to do for naught.
This maid is not his daughter; no, she is
A kidnapped Christian child.
Saladin
Whom Nathan now
Refuses you!
Templar (Earnestly)
Refuse or not refuse,
He is found out—the prating hypocrite
Is now found out; but on this Jewish wolf,
For all his philosophical sheep’s garb,
Dogs I can loosen who will tear his hide.
Saladin (Earnestly)
Peace, Christian!
Templar
What! peace, Christian? Wherefore so?
Shall Jew and Mussulman be free to boast
Their creeds, and shall the Christian be ashamed
To own his faith?
Saladin (More Earnestly)
Peace, Christian!
Templar (Calmly)
Yes, I feel
What weight of blame lies in your calm reproof—
In that one word pronounced by Saladin.
Oh! that I knew what Assad would have done
Had he but fill’d my place!
Saladin
He had not done
Much better; nay, perhaps, had been more warm.
Where did you learn to bribe me with a word?
And yet, in truth, if all has happened so
As you narrate, it is not much like Nathan.
But Nathan is my friend, and of my friends
One must not quarrel with the other. So
Take counsel, act with prudence. Do not loose
On him the fanatics among your race.
Keep silence. All the clergy of your sect
Would call to me for vengeance upon him
With far more show of right than I could wish.
Let not revenge impel you to become
A Christian to the Jew or Mussulman.
Templar
Thanks to the Patriarch’s bloodthirsty rage,
Your counsel almost comes too late; and I
Had nearly proved his cruel instrument.
Saladin
How so? and did you see the Patriarch
Before you came to me?
Templar
Yes, in the storm
Of passion—in the whirl of doubt——Forgive me.
I fear you will no longer find in me
One feature of your Assad.
Saladin
Yes, that fear
Is like him. But, methinks, I know full well
The weaknesses from which our virtues spring:
Attend to these—the former cannot hurt.
But go, seek Nathan, as he sought for you,
And bring him hither. Be but reconciled.
Are you in earnest, Knight, about this maid?
Be calm—she shall be yours. Nathan shall feel
That without swines-flesh he has dared to rear
A Christian child. Now, Templar, leave me. Go!
(Exit the Templar. Sittah leaves the sofa.)
Scene V
Saladin and Sittah.
Sittah
’Tis strange, indeed.
Saladin
What say you now, my Sittah?
Was not our Assad once a handsome youth?
Sittah
If this were like him, and ’twere not the knight
Who had his portrait taken. But, dear brother,
How could you ever so forget yourself
As not to make inquiry for his parents?
Saladin
And more especially about his mother?
That was your meaning—eh?
Sittah
You are too quick.
Saladin
But nothing is more possible; for he,
My brother Assad, was so favoured by
The Christian ladies—handsome Christian ladies—
That a report once spread——But ’tis not right
We should refer to that. We’ll be content
That he is here again, with all his faults,
The faults and wildness of his gentle heart—
That he is here again. Oh, Nathan must
Give him the maid. What think you?
Sittah
What, to him?
Saladin
Ay! for what claim has Nathan to the girl
If he is not her father? He, who saved
Her life, may properly assume the rights
Of him who gave existence to the maid.
Sittah
Then might not Saladin lay claim to her,
Withdrawing her from the unrightful owner?
Saladin
There is no need of that.
Sittah
No actual need,
But female curiosity suggests
That counsel to me. There are certain men
Of whom I feel impatient till I know
What maidens they can love.
Saladin
Well send for her.
Sittah
Brother, may I do that?
Saladin
But hurt not Nathan.
He must not think that we, by violence,
Would separate them.
Sittah
Fear it not.
Saladin
Farewell!
I must find out where this Al-Hafi is.
Scene VI
The hall in Nathan’s house, looking towards the palm-trees, as in the first Act. Part of the merchandise and treasures unpacked and displayed.
Nathan and Daja.
Daja
O, how magnificent are all these things!
How rich! they’re such as none but you could give.
Where was this silver stuff with sprigs of gold
Woven? What might it cost? ’Tis what I call
A wedding garment. Is there any queen
Could wish aught richer?
Nathan
Why a wedding robe?
Daja
In buying it, you never thought of that.
But, Nathan, it must be so—it must, indeed—
’Twas made for that. See, here, the pure white ground,
Emblem of innocence; that branching gold,
Covering the virgin white on every side,
Emblem of wealth. Say, is it not divine?
Nathan
Why all this ingenuity of speech?
Over whose wedding dress would you display
This learning? Have you found a lover, Daja?
Daja
What, I?
Nathan
Who, then?
Daja
I, gracious Heaven?
Nathan
Who, then?
Whose wedding garment would you speak of, Daja?
All this is yours, ’tis meant for no one else.
Daja
What, mine! for me! I thought it was for Recha.
Nathan
No, what I bought for her is elsewhere packed;
’Tis in another bale. But, come, away
With all this rubbish.
Daja
Nathan, tempt me not,
For were these things the very costliest
In all the world, I’ll touch not one of them
Till you have sworn to seize a happy chance
Which Heaven ne’er offers twice.
Nathan
What happy chance?
What must I seize?
Daja
Nathan, feign not such ignorance.
But, in one word—the Templar loves your Recha—
Give her to him, and then your sin, which I
Can hide no longer, will for ever cease.
The maid will then once more resume her place
Amongst the Christians, will again become
What she was born to, and what once she was;
And you, whom we can never thank enough
For all your goodness, will not then have heaped
More burning coals of fire upon your head.
Nathan
Still harping on the same old string again,
New tuned, but neither to accord nor hold.
Daja
How so?
Nathan
The Templar pleases me; ’tis true
I’d rather he, than any one, had Recha.
But patience.
Daja
Patience! and, say, is not that
The string you always harp on?
Nathan
Still, have patience
But for a few days longer. Ha! who comes?
A friar! Go ask him what his errand is.
DAJA (Going)
What can he want?
Nathan
Give—give before he begs.
(Oh, that I knew how I could sound the Knight
Without betraying what my motive is!
For should I tell it, and my thoughts prove false,
I shall have staked the father’s rights in vain.)
What is the matter?
Daja
He would speak with you.
Nathan
Let him approach. Leave us together, Daja.
Scene VII
Nathan and the Friar.
Nathan
(Aside. Gladly I would continue Recha’s father!
And can I not be so, though I may cease
To bear the name? To her—at least to her—
I should be father still, if she but knew
How willingly I bore that title once.)
What can I do to serve you, pious brother?
Friar
Not much; and yet it gives me pleasure, Nathan,
To see at least that you are still so well.
Nathan
You know me, then, it seems?
Friar
Who knows you not?
You have impressed your name on many a hand—
It has been stamped on mine these many years.
Nathan (Feeling for His Purse)
Come, brother, come; here’s to refresh it.
Friar
Thanks.
That would be robbing poorer men. I will
Take nothing; but I beg of you, permit
That I refresh your memory with my name;
For I can boast of having formerly
Placed something in your hand you should not scorn.
Nathan
Excuse me—I’m ashamed—what was it? Say,
And then take for atonement sevenfold
The value of the thing.
Friar
Well, first of all,
Hear how this very day has brought to mind
The pledge I gave you.
Nathan
What! a pledge to me?
Friar
Not long ago I led a hermit’s life
On Quarantana, near to Jericho.
Some Arab thieves came and attacked my cell;
They robbed my oratory, forcing me
To follow them. But fortune favoured me.
I fled, came hither to the Patriarch,
And sought from him another calm retreat,
Where I might serve my God in solitude
Till death should bless me.
Nathan
Ah! I am on thorns.
Be quick! What pledge did you entrust to me?
Friar
Yes, Nathan, presently. The Patriarch
Has promised I shall have a hermitage
On Tabor, when ’tis vacant; and meanwhile
Employs me in this convent as a brother,
And here I am at present. But I pine
For Tabor fifty times a day; for here
He makes me toil at work which I detest.
Nathan
Be speedy, I beseech you.
Friar
Well, it chanced
Some one has whispered in his ear to-day
That a Jew lives hard by, who educates
A Christian as his daughter.
Nathan
How?
Friar
Nay, hear.
He has commissioned me, if possible,
To find this Jew out for him; and he raves
Loudly and bitterly against the crime,
Which he pronounces as the actual sin
Against the Holy Ghost—that is, the sin
The greatest, which a sinner can commit.
But luckily we can’t exactly tell
Its nature. But my conscience all at once
Was roused, and it occurred to me that I
Had once, perhaps, been guilty of this sin.
Do you remember, eighteen years ago,
When a knight’s squire committed to your hands
A female infant but a few weeks old?
Nathan
What say you? Well, in fact there was——
Friar
Ay, look—
Look well at me—for I’m that squire: ’twas I.
Nathan
What! you?
Friar
And he from whom I brought the child
Was, if I recollect the matter right,
A Lord of Filneck—Wolf von Filneck.
Nathan
Right.
Friar
Because the mother died not long before;
And he, the father, was obliged to fly
To Gaza suddenly. The helpless child
Could not accompany him, and therefore he
Committed it to you: that was my task.
I found you out at Daran.
Nathan
Right, quite right.
Friar
It were no wonder had my memory
Deceived me. I have served so many lords.
The one who fled was not my master long,
He fell at Askalon. His heart was kind.
Nathan
Yes, yes, and I have much to thank him for.
Not once, but many times he saved my life.
Friar
O, glorious! then the greater joy for you
To educate his daughter.
Nathan
You say well.
Friar
Where is she now? She is not dead, I hope.
Let me not hear, I pray, that she is dead.
If no one else have found the secret out,
All is yet safe.
Nathan
Indeed!
Friar
Oh, Nathan, trust me.
This is my way of thinking: if the good
That I propose to do is intertwined
With mischief, then I let the good alone;
For we know well enough what mischief is,
But not what is the best. ’Twas natural,
If you intended to bring up the child
With care, that you should rear it as your own.
And to have done this lovingly and well,
And be thus recompensed, is piteous.
It were perhaps more prudent, if the child
Had been brought up by some good Christian’s hand,
In her own faith. But then you had not loved
Your dear friend’s orphan child; and children need
Love—were it but the affection of a brute—
More at that age, than Christianity:
There’s always time enough for that: and if
The maiden had grown up before your eyes,
Healthy and pious, she had then remained
The same as ever in her Maker’s eyes.
For is not Christianity all built
Upon the Jewish creed? Oh oft, too oft,
It vexes me and costs me bitter tears,
To think that Christians will so constantly
Forget that Christ our Saviour was a Jew.
Nathan
Good brother, you shall be my advocate,
When hate and bigotry shall frown on me,
All for a deed—which you alone shall hear—
But take it with you to the tomb. As yet
E’en vanity has never tempted me
To breathe it to a soul; to you alone
It shall be told; for simple piety
Like yours can truly feel what man can do
Who places his full confidence in God.
Friar
You’re moved, and your eyes run o’er with tears.
Nathan
At Daran ’twas you met me with the child.
You had not heard that, a few days before,
The Christians murdered every Jew in Gath—
Woman and child. Amongst them was my wife—
Along with her, my seven hopeful sons.
All had sought shelter ’neath my brother’s roof,
And there were burnt alive.
Friar
Just God!
Nathan
You came.
Three nights in dust and ashes I had lain
Before my God and wept; and I at times
Arraigned my Maker, raged, and cursed myself
And the whole world together, and I swore
Eternal hate to Christianity.
Friar
Who can condemn you? I believe it well.
Nathan
But by degrees returning reason came,
And spoke with gentle accent: “God is just!
And this was His decree. Now exercise
The lesson thou so long hast understood,
And which is surely not more difficult
To exercise than well to understand.”
I rose and cried to God, “I will, I will!
Do Thou but aid my purpose.” And, behold,
Just at that moment you dismounted. You
Gave me the child enfolded in your robe.
The words we spoke occur not to me now.
This much I recollect: I took the child;
I bore it to my bed; I kissed its cheek;
I flung myself upon my knees, and sobbed,
“My God, Thou hast restored me one of seven!”
Friar
Nathan, you are a Christian. Yes, I swear
You are a Christian—better never lived.
Nathan
Indeed! the very thing that makes me seem
Christian to you, makes you a Jew to me.
But let us not distress each other thus,
’Tis time to act, and though a sevenfold love
Had bound me to this strange, this lovely maid,
Though the mere thought distracts me, that in her
I lose my seven dear sons a second time,
If Providence require her at my hands
I’m ready to obey.
Friar
’Tis well! And thus
I thought to counsel you; but there’s no need:
Your own good genius has forestalled my words.
Nathan
The first chance claimant must not tear her hence.
Friar
Most surely not.
Nathan
And he who has no claim
Stronger than mine—at least he ought to have
Those prior claims which——
Friar
Certainly,
Nathan
Those claims
Which are derived from nature and from blood.
Friar
In my opinion, yes.
Nathan
Then name the man
As brother, or as uncle, bound to her,
I’ll not withhold her from him; she was made
To be the ornament of any house,
The pride of any faith. I hope you know
More of your master and his creed than I.
Friar
On that point, Nathan, I’m but ill informed,
I have already told you that I spent
Only some moments with him.
Nathan
Can you tell
The mother’s name, at least? She was, I think,
A Stauffen?
Friar
Possibly; nay, more—you’re right.
Nathan
Conrad of Stauffen was her brother’s name.
He was a Templar.
Friar
Yes, I think he was:
But hold, I have a book that was my lord’s.
I drew it from his bosom when he lay
Dead, and we buried him at Askalon.
Nathan
Well!
Friar
There are prayers in it; ’tis what we call
A breviary. This, thought I, yet may serve
Some Christian man—not me, forsooth—for I
Can’t read a word.
Nathan
No matter—to the point.
Friar
The pages of this book are written all
In his own hand, and, as I’m told, contain
All that’s important touching him and her.
Nathan
Go, run and fetch the book: ’tis fortunate!
I’ll pay you for it with its weight in gold.
And with a thousand thanks besides. Go! run!
Friar
I go—but what he wrote is Arabic. (Exit)
Nathan
No matter, fetch it. What, if from this book
I can find means to keep this precious girl,
And win, to boot, a son-in-law like him!
I hardly hope—fate must decide. But who
Has told the Patriarch this? I must not fail
To ascertain. It surely was not Daja?
Scene VIII
Daja and Nathan.
DAJA (Rushing in in Agitation)
Only think, Nathan!
Nathan
What?
Daja
Well—only think:
The child was frightened when the message came!
Nathan
From whom? The Patriarch?
Daja
The Sultan’s sister,
The Princess Sittah—
Nathan
Not the Patriarch?
Daja
No, Sittah. Can’t you hear? The Princess sends,
And wishes Recha to be brought to her.
Nathan
Wishes for Recha! Sittah wishes thus?
’Tis Sittah, then—and not the Patriarch?
Daja
Why do you speak of him?
Nathan
Have you not heard
Some tidings of him lately? Have you seen
Nothing of him, and whispered nothing to him?
Daja
How could I so?
Nathan
Where are the messengers?
Daja
They stand without.
Nathan
I’ll speak to them myself—
’Tis prudent; I shall see if nothing lurks
Behind this message, from the Patriarch. (Exit.)
Daja
Well, I have other fears. The only child,
As they suppose, of such a wealthy Jew,
Would for a Mussulman be no bad thing.
I’ll wager that the Templar loses her,
Unless I risk a second step, and state
Plainly to Recha who she is. So, courage!
And to do this I must at once employ
The first brief moments when we are alone.
Chance serves: she waits for me, and on the way
An earnest hint will never prove amiss.
So now or never. All will soon be well. (Follows Nathan.)