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_.)
ACT V.
Scene I.--_The room in_ Saladin's _Palace. The treasure still
piled up_.
(Saladin, _and several Mamelukes_.)
SALADIN (_as he enters_).
There lies the gold--and no one yet has seen
The Dervise. He will probably be found
Over the chess-board. Play can often make
A man forget himself. Then why not me?
But patience. What's the matter?
1ST MAMELUKE.
Oh, good news!
Joy, Sultan! joy. The Cairo caravan
Is safe arrived, and from the Nile it brings
The seven years' tribute.
SALADIN.
Bravo, Ibrahim!
You always were a welcome messenger,
And now at length--accept my heartfelt thanks
For the good tidings.
1ST MAMELUKE (_waiting_).
(Let me have them, then!)
SALADIN.
What are you waiting for? Go.
1ST MAMELUKE.
Nothing more
For my good news?
SALADIN.
What further?
1ST MAMELUKE.
Messengers
Of good are paid. Am I to be the first
Whom Saladin has learnt to pay with words?
The first to whom he proves ungenerous?
SALADIN.
Go, take a purse.
1ST MAMELUKE.
No, no--not now. Not if
You'd give them all to me.
SALADIN.
All? Hold, young man!
Come hither. Take these purses--take these two.
What, going? And shall I be conquered thus
In generosity? for surely 'tis
More difficult for this man to refuse
Than for the Sultan to bestow. Then, here
Here, Ibrahim! Shall I be tempted, just
Before my death, to be a different man?
Shall Saladin not die like Saladin?
Then wherefore has he lived like Saladin?
(_Enter a second Mameluke_.)
2ND MAMELUKE.
Hail, Sultan!
SALADIN.
If you come and bring the news----
2ND MAMELUKE.
That the Egyptian convoy is arrived.
SALADIN.
I know it.
2ND MAMELUKE.
Then I come too late.
SALADIN.
Too late?
Wherefore too late? There, for your tidings take
A purse or two.
2ND MAMELUKE.
Say three.
SALADIN.
You reckon well;
But take them.
2ND MAMELUKE.
A third messenger will come
Ere long, if he be able.
SALADIN.
Wherefore so?
2ND MAMELUKE.
He may perhaps, ere this, have brok'n his neck.
We three, when we had heard of the approach
Of the rich caravan, mounted our steeds,
And galloped hitherward. The foremost fell,
Then I was first, and I continued so
Into the town; but that sly fellow there,
Who knew the streets----
SALADIN.
But where is he who fell?
Go seek him out.
2ND MAMELUKE.
That I will quickly do,
And if he lives, one half of this is his. (_Exit_.)
SALADIN.
Oh, what a noble fellow! who can boast
Such Mamelukes as these? And may I not,
Without conceit, imagine that my life
Has helped to make them so? Avaunt the thought!
That I should ever teach them otherwise.
3RD MAMELUKE.
Sultan!
SALADIN.
Are you the man who fell?
3RD MAMELUKE.
No, Sire.
I have to tell you that the Emir Mansor,
Who led the caravan, is just arrived.
SALADIN.
Then bring him quickly.--There he is already.
Scene II.
_The Emir_ Mansor _and_ Saladin.
SALADIN.
Emir, you're welcome! What has happened to you,
Mansor? we have expected you for long.
MANSOR.
This letter will explain how, in Thebais,
Some discontents required the sabred hand
Of Abulkassen. But, since then, our march
Has been pressed forward.
SALADIN.
I believe it all.
But take, good Mansor--take, without delay,
Another escort if you will proceed,
And take the treasure on to Lebanon:
The greater part is destined for my father.
MANSOR.
Most willingly.
SALADIN.
And let your escort be
A strong and trusty one, for Lebanon
Is far from quiet, and the Templars there
Are on the stir again; be cautious, then
Come, I must see your troop, and order all.
(_To a slave_.) Say I shall presently return to Sittah.
Scene III.
(_The palm-trees before_ Nathan's _house_.)
_The_ Templar, _walking up and down_.
TEMPLAR.
Into this house I never enter more:
He'll come to me at last. Yet, formerly,
They used to watch for me with longing eyes;
And now----The time may come he'll send to beg,
Most civilly, that I will get me hence,
And not pace up and down before his door!
No matter: though I feel a little hurt.
I know not what has thus embittered me:
He answered yes, and has refused me naught,
So far, and Saladin has pledged himself
To bring him round. Say, does the Christian live
Deeper in me than the Jew lurks in him?
Ah! who can truly estimate himself?
How comes it else that I should grudge him so
The trifling booty, which he took such pains
To rob the Christians of? No trifling theft!
No less than such a creature! And to whom
Does she belong? Oh, surely not to him,
The thoughtless slave, who floated the mere block
On to life's barren strand, then disappeared.
Rather to him, the artist, whose fine soul
Has from the block moulded this godlike form,
And graved it there. And yet in spite of him,
The Christian, who begot this beauteous maid,
Recha's true father must be still the Jew.
Were I to fancy her a Christian now,
Bereft of all the Jew has given to her--
Which only such a Jew could have bestowed--
Speak out, my heart--where would have been her charm'
It had been nothing--little; then her smile
Had been a pretty twisting of the mouth
And that which caused it were unworthy deemed
Of the enchantment blooming on her lips.
No: not her very smile! I've seen sweet smiles
Squandered on pride, on foppery, on lies,
On flatterers, on wicked wooers spent:
And did they charm me then? Did they awake
The wish to flutter out existence in
Their sunshine? And I'm angry now with him
Who gave this higher value to the maid?
And wherefore so? Do I deserve the taunt
With which I was dismissed by Saladin?
'Twas bad enough he should think thus of me.
How wicked, how contemptible, alas!
I must have seemed to him! And for a girl!
Conrad, this will not do. Avaunt such thoughts!
And what if Daja has been chattering
Of things not easy to be proved? But see,
He comes, engaged in converse; and with whom?
With him, the Friar. Then he knows all: perhaps
He has betrayed him to the Patriarch.
O Conrad! what vile mischief hast thou done!
O! that one spark of love, that wayward passion,
Should so inflame the brain! But, quick! resolve;
What's to be done? Stay, step aside awhile;
Perhaps the Friar will leave him. Let us see.
Scene IV.
Nathan _and the_ Friar.
NATHAN (_approaching him_).
Good brother, once more, thanks.
FRIAR.
The same to you.
NATHAN.
Why thanks from you? Because I'm wayward, and
Would force upon you what you cannot use?
FRIAR.
The book you have did not belong to me.
It is the maid's, is all her property,
Her only patrimony--save yourself.
God grant you ne'er have reason to repent
Of what you've done for her!
NATHAN.
Impossible!
That cannot be. Fear not.
FRIAR.
Alas! alas!
These Patriarchs and Templars----
NATHAN.
Cannot work
Such evil as to force me to repent.
But are you sure it is a Templar who
Urges the Patriarch?
FRIAR.
It is none else;
A Templar talked with him just now, and all
I hear confirms the rumour.
NATHAN.
But there is
Only one Templar in Jerusalem,
And him I know. He is a friend of mine,
A noble, open-hearted youth.
FRIAR.
The same.
But what one is at heart, and what one must
Appear in active life, are not the same.
NATHAN.
Alas! 'tis true. And so let every one
Act as he will, and do his best, or worst.
With your book, brother, I defy them all!
I'm going straightway with it to the Sultan.
FRIAR.
Then God be with you! Here I take my leave.
NATHAN.
What! without seeing her? But come again,
Come soon--come often. If the Patriarch
To-day learns nothing. Well! no matter now!
Tell him the whole to-day, or when you will.
FRIAR.
Not I. Farewell! (_Exit_.)
NATHAN.
Do not forget us, brother!
O God! I could sink down upon my knees,
Here on this spot! Behold, the knotted skein
Which has so often troubled me, at last
Untangles of itself. I feel at ease,
Since henceforth nothing in this world remains
That I need hide. Henceforth, I am as free
Before mankind, as in the sight of God.
Who only does not need to judge us men
By deeds, which oftentimes are not our own.
Scene V.
Nathan _and the_ Templar.
(_The latter advancing towards him from the side_.)
TEMPLAR.
Hold, Nathan, hold! Take me along with you.
NATHAN.
Who calls? You, Templar! Where can you have been
That you could not be met with at the Sultan's?
TEMPLAR.
We missed each other; do not be displeased.
NATHAN.
Not I, but Saladin.
TEMPLAR.
You had just gone.
NATHAN.
Oh, then, you spoke with him. I'm satisfied.
TEMPLAR.
Yes; but he wants to talk with us together.
NATHAN.
So much the better. Come with me; I go
Direct to him.
TEMPLAR.
Say, Nathan, may I ask
Who left you even now?
NATHAN.
What! don't you know?
TEMPLAR.
Was it that worthy fellow, the good friar,
Whom the old Patriarch employs at will
To work his ends?
NATHAN.
The same--the very same.
TEMPLAR.
'Tis a prime hit to make simplicity
The workman of deceit.
NATHAN.
Yes, if he use
The fool, and not the pious man.
TEMPLAR.
This last
The Patriarch ne'er trusts.
NATHAN.
Depend on this,
That man will not assist the Patriarch
To a wicked end.
TEMPLAR.
Well, so I think myself.
But has he told you aught of me?
NATHAN.
Of you?
He scarcely knows your name.
TEMPLAR.
That's like enough.
NATHAN.
He spoke to me about a Templar, who----
TEMPLAR.
Who what?
NATHAN.
But then he never mentioned you.
TEMPLAR.
Who knows? Come tell me, Nathan, all he said.
NATHAN.
Who has accused me to the Patriarch?
TEMPLAR.
Accused you! With his leave, that is untrue.
No! Hear me, Nathan! I am not the man
E'er to deny my actions. What I've done
I've done--and there's an end. Nor am I one
Who would maintain that all I've done is right.
But should one fault condemn me? Am I not
Resolved on better deeds for time to come?
And who is ignorant how much the man
Who wills it may improve? Then hear me, Nathan:
I am the Templar talked of by the Friar,
Who has accused--you know what maddened me,
What set my blood on fire within my veins--
Fool that I was! I had almost resolved
To fling myself both soul and body, straight
Into your arms. But how was I received?
How did you meet me, Nathan? Cold--or worse.
Lukewarm--far worse than cold. With cautious words,
Well weighed and measured, Nathan, you took care
To put me off, and with calm questions, asked
About my parentage, and God knows what,
You sought to meet my suit. I cannot now
Dwell on it and be patient. Hear me further.
While in this ferment, Daja suddenly
Drew near to me and whispered in my ear
A secret which cleared up the mystery.
NATHAN.
What was it?
TEMPLAR.
Hear me to the end. I thought
The treasure you had from the Christians stolen,
You would not promptly to a Christian yield;
And so the project struck me, with good speed,
To bring you to extremities.
NATHAN.
Good speed?
Good, good? pray where's the good!
TEMPLAR.
But hear me out.
I own my error; you are free from guilt;
That prating Daja knows not what she says.
She's hostile to you, and she seeks to twine
A dangerous snare around you. Be it so.
I'm but a crazed enthusiast, doubly mad,
Aiming at far too much, or much too little.
That may be also true. Forgive me, Nathan.
NATHAN.
If you conceive thus of me----
TEMPLAR.
Well, in short.
I saw the Patriarch--but named you not.
'Twas false to say so, for I only told
The case in general terms, to sound his mind.
And that I also might have left undone,
For knew I not the Patriarch to be
An arrant, subtle knave? And might I not
As well have told you all the case at first?
Or was it right in me to risk the loss
Of such a father to the hapless maid?
But what has happened now? The Patriarch,
Ever consistent in his villainy,
Has all at once restored me to myself.
For hear me, Nathan, hear me! Were he now
To learn your name, what more could then occur?
He cannot seize the maid, if she belong
To some one else, and not to you alone.
'Tis from your house alone she can be dragged
Into a convent: grant her, then, I pray,
Grant her to me! Then come the Patriarch!
He'll hardly dare to take my wife from me.
Oh! give her to me. Be she yours or not--
Your daughter--Christian--Jewess--'tis all one--
Or be she nothing--I will ne'er inquire,
Or in my lifetime ask you what she is,
'Tis all alike to me.
NATHAN.
Do you then think
That to conceal the truth I am compelled?
TEMPLAR.
No matter.
NATHAN.
I have ne'er denied the truth
To you, or any one whom it concerned
To know the fact, that she's of Christian birth,
And that the maid is my adopted child.
Why I have not informed her of the truth,
I need explain to none but to herself.
TEMPLAR.
Nathan; no need of that, it were not well
That she should see you in a different light;
Then spare her the discovery. As yet
She's yours alone--no other's--to bestow.
Then grant her to me, Nathan, I implore--
Grant her to me: I only, I alone,
Can rescue her a second time--and will.
NATHAN.
Yes, you could once have saved her, but alas!
'Tis now too late.
TEMPLAR.
Too late! ah! say not so.
NATHAN.
Thanks to the Patriarch.
TEMPLAR.
Why, thanks to him?
Why should we thank the Patriarch! For what?
NATHAN.
That now we know her relatives, and know
Into whose hands Recha may be restored.
TEMPLAR.
Let him give thanks who shall have better cause
To thank him.
NATHAN.
But you must receive her now
From other hands than mine.
TEMPLAR.
Alas, poor maid!
O hapless Recha! what has chanced to thee,
That what to other orphans had appeared
A real blessing, is to thee a curse!
But, Nathan, where are these new relatives?
NATHAN.
Where are they?
TEMPLAR.
Ay, both where and who are they?
NATHAN.
Her brother is discovered, and to him
You must address yourself.
TEMPLAR.
Her brother! Ha!
And what is he--a soldier or a priest?
Tell me at once what I've to hope from him.
NATHAN.
I hear he's neither--or he's both. As yet
I do not know him thoroughly.
TEMPLAR.
What more?
NATHAN.
He is a gallant fellow, and with him
Recha may be content.
TEMPLAR.
But he's a Christian.
At times I know not what to make of you.
Take it not ill, good Nathan, that I ask,
Must she not henceforth play the Christian,
Associate with Christians, and at last
Become the character she long has played?
Will not the tares at length grow up and choke
The pure wheat you have sown? And does not that
Affect you? Yet you say she'll be content
When with her brother.
NATHAN.
As I think and hope.
For should she e'er have need of anything,
Has she not you and me?
TEMPLAR.
What can she need
When with her brother. Gladly he'll provide
His dear new sister with a thousand robes,
With dainties, and with toys and finery.
And what could any sister wish for more--
Unless, perhaps, a husband? And him too,
Him too the brother, in due time, will find;
And the more Christian he, the better!--Nathan,
How sad to think the angel you have formed,
Should now be marred by others!
NATHAN.
Be assured
He'll always prove deserving of our love.
TEMPLAR.
Nay speak not so; of my love, speak not so,
For it can brook no loss, however small,
Not e'en a name. But, hold! Has she as yet
Any suspicion of these late events?
NATHAN.
'Tis possible, and yet I know not how.
TEMPLAR.
It matters not; she must, in either case,
First learn from me what fate is threat'ning her.
My purpose not to speak with her again,
And ne'er to see her more, till I should call
Your Recha mine, is gone. I take my leave.
NATHAN.
Nay, whither would you go?
TEMPLAR.
At once to her,
To learn if she be bold enough at heart,
To fix upon the only course that now
Is worthy of her.
NATHAN.
Name it.
TEMPLAR.
It is this:
That henceforth she should never care to know
Aught of her brother or of you.
NATHAN.
What more?
TEMPLAR.
To follow me--even if it were her fate
To wed a Mussulman.
NATHAN.
Stay, Templar, stay!
You will not find her. She's with Sittah now,
The Sultan's sister.
TEMPLAR.
Wherefore, and since when?
NATHAN.
If you desire to see her brother, come,
Follow me straight.
TEMPLAR.
Her brother, say you? Whose?
Recha's, or Sittah's?
NATHAN.
Both--ay, both, perhaps.
But come this way, I pray you. Come with me.
(Nathan _leads the_ Templar _away_.)
Scene VI.--Sittah's _harem_.
Sittah _and_ Recha _engaged in conversation_.
SITTAH.
How I am pleased with you, sweet girl. But, come,
Shake off these fears, and be no more alarmed,
Be happy, cheerful. Let me hear you talk.
RECHA.
Princess!
SITTAH.
Nay, child, not princess! Call me friend,
Or Sittah--or your sister--or dear mother,
For I might well be so to you--so good,
So prudent, and so young! How much you know,
How much you must have read!
RECHA.
Read, Sittah! now
You're mocking me, for I can scarcely read.
SITTAH.
Scarce read, you young deceiver!
RECHA.
Yes, perhaps
My father's hand; I thought you spoke of books.
SITTAH.
And so I did--of books.
RECHA.
They puzzle me
To read.
SITTAH.
Indeed!
RECHA.
I speak, in veriest truth.
My father hates book-learning, which he says,
Makes an impression only on the brain
With lifeless letters.
SITTAH.
Well, he's right in that.
And so the greater part of what you know----
RECHA.
I've learnt from his own mouth, and I can tell
The when, the where, and why he taught it me.
SITTAH.
So it clings closer, and the soul drinks in
The full instruction.
RECHA.
Yes, and Sittah, too,
Has not read much.
SITTAH.
How so? I am not vain
Of having read, and yet why say you so?
Speak boldly. Tell the reason.
RECHA.
She's so plain--
So free from artifice--so like herself.
SITTAH.
Well!
RECHA.
And my father says 'tis rarely books
Work that effect.
SITTAH.
Oh, what a man he is,
Dear Recha!
RECHA.
Is he not?
SITTAH.
He never fails
To hit the mark.
RECHA.
Yes, yes; and yet this father----
SITTAH.
What ails you, love?
RECHA.
This father----
SITTAH.
Oh my God!
You're weeping.
RECHA.
And this father--it must forth--
My heart wants room, wants room----
(_Throws herself in tears at_ Sittah's _feet_.)
SITTAH.
What ails you, Recha?
RECHA.
Yes, I must lose this father!
SITTAH.
Lose him--never!
Why so? Be calm. Courage! it must not be.
RECHA.
Your offer to be friend and sister to me
Will now not be in vain.
SITTAH.
Yes, I am both.
Arise, arise, or I must call for help.
RECHA.
O pardon! I forget, through agony,
With whom I speak. Tears, sobbing, and despair
Are naught with Sittah. Reason, calm and cool,
Is over her alone omnipotent.
No other argument avails with her.
SITTAH.
Well, then?
RECHA.
My friend and sister, suffer not
Another father to be forced on me.
SITTAH.
Another father to be forced on you!
Who can do that, or wish to do it, love?
RECHA.
Who but my good, my evil genius, Daja?
She can both wish it and perform the deed.
You do not know this good, this evil Daja.
May God forgive her, and reward her, too,
For she has done me good and evil, both.
SITTAH.
Evil? Then she has little goodness left.
RECHA.
Oh, she has much.
SITTAH.
Who is she?
RECHA.
Who? a Christian,
Who cared for me in childhood's early years.
You cannot know how little she allowed
That I should miss a mother's tender cares--
May God reward her for it!--but she has
Worried and tortured me.
SITTAH.
Wherefore, and how?
RECHA.
Poor woman, she's a Christian, and from love
Has tortured me: a warm enthusiast,
Who thinks she only knows the real road
That leads to God.
SITTAH.
I understand you now.
RECHA.
And one of those who feel in duty bound
To point it out to every one who strays
From the plain path, to lead, to drag them in.
And who can censure them? for if the road
They travel is the only one that's safe,
They cannot, without pain, behold their friends
Pursue a path that lead to endless woe,
Else, at the self-same time, 'twere possible
To love and hate another. Nor does this
Alone compel me to complain aloud.
Her groans, her prayers, her warnings, and her threats
I could have borne much longer willingly.
They always called up good and wholesome thoughts.
Who is not flattered to be held so dear,
And precious by another, that the thought
Of parting pierces him with lasting pain?
SITTAH.
This is most true.
RECHA.
And yet this goes too far,
And I have nothing to oppose to it--
Patience, reflection, nothing.
SITTAH.
How? to what?
RECHA.
To what she has disclosed to me.
SITTAH.
Say, when?
RECHA.
'Tis scarce an instant. Coming hither
We passed a Christian temple on our way;
She all at once stood still, seemed inly moved,
Raised her moist eyes to heaven, then looked on me.
"Come," she exclaimed at length, "come straight on here,
Through this old fane." She leads, I follow her.
My eyes with horror overrun the dim
And tottering ruin: all at once she stops
By a low ruined altar's sunken steps.
O, how I felt, when there, with streaming eyes
And wringing hands, down at my feet she fell!
SITTAH.
Good child!
RECHA.
And, by the Holy Virgin, who had heard
So many suppliants' prayers, and had performed
Full many a wonder there, she begged, implored
With looks of heart-felt sympathy and love,
That I would now take pity on myself,
And pardon her for daring to unfold
The nature of the Church's claims on me.
SITTAH.
I guessed as much.
RECHA.
I'm born of Christian blood,
Have been baptised, and am not Nathan's child!
Nathan is not my father! God, O God!
He's not my father, Sittah! Now, behold,
I'm once more prostrate at your feet.
SITTAH.
Arise!
Recha, arise! behold, my brother comes.
Scene VII.
Saladin, Sittah, _and_ Recha.
SALADIN.
What is the matter, Sittah?
SITTAH.
She has swooned.
SALADIN.
Who is she?
SITTAH.
Don't you know?
SALADIN.
'Tis Nathan's child.
What ails her?
SITTAH.
Look up, Recha! 'tis the Sultan.
RECHA (_crawling to Saladin's feet_).
No, I'll not rise--not rise nor even look
Upon the Sultan's countenance, nor wonder
At the bright lustre of unchanging truth
And goodness on his brow and in his eye,
Before----
SITTAH.
Rise, rise!
RECHA.
Before he promises----
SALADIN.
Come, come! I promise, whatsoe'er your prayer.
RECHA.
'Tis only this--to leave my father to me,
And me to him. As yet I cannot tell
Who seeks to be my father: who it is
Can harbour such a wish I'll ne'er inquire.
Does blood alone make fathers--blood alone?
SITTAH.
Who can have been so cruel as to raise
This dire suspicion in my Recha's breast?
Say, is it proved? beyond all doubt made clear?
RECHA.
'Tis proved, for Daja had it from my nurse,
Whose dying lips entrusted it to her.
SALADIN.
Dying! she raved. And even were it true,
A father is not made by blood alone;
Scarcely the father of a savage beast--
Blood only gives the right to earn the name.
Then fear no more, but hear me. If there be
Two fathers who contend for thee, leave both,
And claim a third! O! take me for your father!
SITTAH.
Oh, do so, Recha, do so!
SALADIN.
I will be
A good, kind father to you. But, in truth
A better thought occurs. Why should you need
Two fathers? They are mortal, and must die.
'Twere better, Recha, to look out betimes
For one to start with you on equal terms,
And stake his life for thine. You understand?
SITTAH.
You make her blush!
SALADIN.
Why that was half my scheme.
Blushing becomes plain features, and will make
A beauteous cheek more beauteous. My commands
Are giv'n to bring your father, Nathan, here.
Another comes as well. You'll guess his name?
Hither they come! Will you allow it, Sittah?
SITTAH.
Brother!
SALADIN.
And when he comes, maid, you must blush
To crimson.
RECHA.
Sittah! wherefore should I blush?
SALADIN.
You young dissembler, you will else grow pale!
But as thou wilt and canst. (_A female slave enters, and approaches_
Sittah.) What, here so soon?
SITTAH.
Well, let them enter. Brother, here they are!
Scene VIII.
Nathan, _the_ Templar, _and the others_.
SALADIN.
Welcome, my dear good friends! Nathan, to you
I must first mention, you may send and fetch
Your moneys when you will.
NATHAN.
Sultan----
SALADIN.
And now
I'm at your service.
NATHAN.
Sultan----
SALADIN.
For my gold
Is now arrived; the caravan is safe:
These many years I have not been so rich.
Now, tell me what you wish for, to achieve
Some splendid speculation? You in trade,
Like us, have never too much ready cash.
NATHAN.
Why speak about this trifle first? I see
An eye in tears (_going towards_ Recha). My Recha, you
have wept.
What have you lost? Are you not still my child?
RECHA.
My father!
NATHAN.
That's enough! We're understood
By one another! But look up--be calm,
Be cheerful! If your heart is still your own,
And if no threatened loss disturb your breast,
Your father is not lost to you!
RECHA.
None, none!
TEMPLAR.
None! Then I'm much deceived. What we don't fear
To lose, we ne'er have loved, and ne'er have wished
To be possessed of. But 'tis well, 'tis well!
Nathan, this changes all! At your command,
We come here, Sultan. You have been misled
By me, and I will trouble you no more!
SALADIN.
Rash, headlong youth! Must every temper yield
To yours!--and must we all thus guess your mind?
TEMPLAR.
But, Sultan, you have heard and seen it all.
SALADIN.
Well, truly, it was awkward to be thus
Uncertain of your cause!
TEMPLAR.
I know my fate.
SALADIN.
Whoe'er presumes upon a service done,
Cancels the benefit. What you have saved
Is, therefore, not your own. Or else the thief,
Urged by mere avarice through flaming halls,
Were like yourself a hero. (_Advancing towards_ Recha _to
lead her to the_ Templar.) Come, sweet maid!
Be not reserved towards him. Had he been so,
Were he less warm, less proud, he had held back,
And had not saved you. Weigh the former deed
Against the latter, and you'll make him blush!
Do what he should have done! confess your love!
Make him your offer! and if he refuse,
Or e'er forget how infinitely more
You do for him than he has done for you--
For what, in fact, have been his services,
Save soiling his complexion? a mere sport--
Else has he nothing of my Assad in him,
But only wears his mask. Come, lovely maid.
SITTAH.
Go, dearest, go! this step is not enough
For gratitude; it is too little.
NATHAN.
Hold!
Hold, Saladin! hold, Sittah!
SALADIN.
What would you?
NATHAN.
It is the duty of another now
To speak.
SALADIN.
Who questions that? Beyond all doubt
A foster--father has a right to vote
First, if you will. You see I know the whole.
NATHAN.
Not quite. I speak not, Sultan, of myself.
There is another and a different man
Whom I must first confer with, Saladin.
SALADIN.
And who is he?
NATHAN.
Her brother.
SALADIN.
Recha's brother?
NATHAN.
E'en so.
RECHA.
My brother! Have I then a brother?
TEMPLAR (_starting from his silent and sullen inattention_).
Where is this brother? Not yet here! 'Twas here
I was to meet him.
NATHAN.
Patience yet awhile.
TEMPLAR (_bitterly_).
He has imposed a father on the girl;
He'll find a brother for her now!
SALADIN.
Indeed,
That much was wanting. But this mean rebuke,
Christian, had ne'er escaped my Assad's lips.
NATHAN.
Forgive him: I forgive him readily.
Who knows what in his youth and in his place
We might ourselves have thought? (_Approaching him in
a very friendly manner_) Suspicion, knight,
Follows upon reserve. Had you at first
Vouchsafed to me your real name----
TEMPLAR.
How! what!
NATHAN.
You are no Stauffen.
TEMPLAR.
Tell me who I am.
NATHAN.
Conrad of Stauffen, not.
TEMPLAR.
Then what's my name?
NATHAN.
Leo of Filneck.
TEMPLAR.
How?
NATHAN.
You start!
TEMPLAR.
With reason.
But who says this?
NATHAN.
I, who can tell you more.
Meanwhile, observe, I tax you not with falsehood.
TEMPLAR.
Indeed!
NATHAN.
It may be both names fit you well.
TEMPLAR.
I think so. (_Aside_) God inspired him with that thought.
NATHAN.
Your mother was a Stauffen: and her brother
(The uncle to whose care you were consigned,
When, by the rigour of the climate chased,
Your parents quitted Germany, to seek
This land once more) was Conrad. He, perhaps,
Adopted you as his own son and heir.
Is it long since you travelled hither with him?
Does he still live?
TEMPLAR.
What shall I answer him?
He speaks the truth. Nathan, 'tis so indeed;
But he himself is dead. I journeyed here,
With the last troops of knights, to reinforce
Our order. But inform me how this tale
Concerns your Recha's brother.
NATHAN.
Well, your father----
TEMPLAR.
What! did you know him too?
NATHAN.
He was my friend.
TEMPLAR.
Your friend! Oh, Nathan, is it possible?
NATHAN.
Oluf of Filneck did he style himself;
But he was not a German.
TEMPLAR.
You know that?
NATHAN.
He had espoused a German, and he lived
For some, time with your mother there.
TEMPLAR.
No more
Of this, I beg. But what of Recha's brother?
NATHAN.
It is yourself.
TEMPLAR.
What, I? am I her brother?
RECHA.
He, my brother?
SALADIN.
Are they so near akin?
RECHA (_approaching the_ Templar).
My brother!
TEMPLAR (_stepping back_).
I, your brother?
RECHA (_stopping and turning to Nathan_).
No, in truth,
It cannot be. His heart makes no response.
O God! we are deceivers.
SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
Say you so?
Is that your thought? All is deceit in you:
The voice, the gesture, and the countenance,
Nothing of these is yours. How! will you not
Acknowledge such a sister? Then begone!
TEMPLAR (_approaching him humbly_).
Oh! do not misinterpret my surprise.
Sultan, you never saw your Assad's heart
At any time like this. Then do not err,
Mistake not him and me. (_Turning to_ Nathan.) You give
me much,
Nathan, and also you take much away,
And yet you give me more than you withdraw--
Ay, infinitely more. My sister, sister! (_embraces_ Recha.)
NATHAN.
Blanda of Filneck.
TEMPLAR.
Blanda, ha! not Recha?
Your Recha now no more! Have you resigned
Your child? Give her her Christian name once more,
And for my sake discard her then. Oh, Nathan,
Why must she suffer for a fault of mine?
NATHAN.
What mean you, oh, my children, both of you?
For sure my daughter's brother is my child
Whenever he shall wish.
(_While they embrace_ Nathan, Saladin _uneasily approaches_
Sittah.)
SALADIN.
What say you, sister? Sittah.
SITTAH.
I'm deeply moved----
SALADIN.
And I half tremble when
I think of the emotion that must come:
Prepare yourself to bear it as you may.
SITTAH.
What! How!
SALADIN.
Nathan, a word--one word with you.
(_He joins_ Nathan, _while_ Sittah _approaches the others to
express her sympathy, and_ Nathan _and_ Saladin _converse
in a low tone_.)
Hear, hear me, Nathan. Said you not just now
That he----
NATHAN.
That who?
SALADIN.
Her father was not born
In Germany. You know then whence he came?
And what he was?
NATHAN.
He never told me that.
SALADIN.
Was he no Frank, nor from the Western land?
NATHAN.
He said as much. He spoke the Persian tongue.
SALADIN.
The Persian! need I more? 'Tis he! 'twas he!
NATHAN.
Who?
SALADIN.
Assad, my brother Assad, beyond doubt.
NATHAN.
If you think so, then be assured from this:
Look in this book (_handing him the breviary_).
SALADIN.
Oh, 'tis his hand! once more
I recognise it.
NATHAN.
They know naught of this:
It rests with you to tell them all the truth.
SALADIN (_turning over the leaves of the breviary_).
They are my brother's children. Shall I not
Acknowledge them and claim them? Or shall I
Abandon them to you? (_Speaking aloud_.) Sittah, they are
The children of my brother and of yours. (_Rushes to
embrace them_.)
SITTAH (_following his example_).
What do I hear? Could it be otherwise?
SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
Proud youth! from this time forward you are bound
To love me. (_To_ Recha.) And henceforth, without your
leave
Or with it, I am what I vowed to be.
SITTAH.
And so am I.
SALADIN (_to the_ Templar).
My son! my Assad's son!
TEMPLAR.
I of your blood! Then those were more than dreams
With which they used to lull my infancy--
(_Falls at_ Sultan's _feet_.)
SALADIN (_raising him_).
There, mark the rascal! though he knew something
Of what has chanced, he was content that I
Should have become his murderer! Beware.
(_The curtain falls whilst they repeatedly embrace each
other in silence_.)
END OF VOL. I.
* * * * *
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MRS. OVERTHEWAY'S REMEMBRANCES. Illustrated with 10 fine Full-page
Engravings on Wood, after Drawings by Pasquier and Wolf, and Edition,
cloth gilt, 3_s_. 6_d_.
'It is not often nowadays the privilege of a critic to grow
enthusiastic over a new work; and the rarity of the occasion that calls
forth the delight is apt to lead one into the sin of hyperbole. And yet
we think we shall not be accused of extravagance when we say that,
without exception, "Mrs. Overthewny's Remembrances" is the most
delightful work avowedly written for children that we have ever read.
There are passages in this book which the genius of George Eliot would
be proud to own. It is full of a peculiar, heart-stirring pathos of its
own, which culminates in the last pages, when Ida finds that her father
is not dead. The book is one that may be recurred to often, and always
with the same delight. We predict for it a great popularity.'--
_Leader_.
MELCHIOR'S DREAM, and other Tales. Illustrated. 3rd Edition. Fcap. 8vo.
3_s_. 6_d_.
"'Melchior's Dream' is an exquisite little story, charming by original
humour, buoyant spirits, and tender pathos."--_Athenaeum_.
A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING; or, Some Passages in the Life of an Only
Son. With 12 Illustrations by H. Allingham. 5th Edition. Small 8vo.
5_s_.
'Let every parent and guardian who wishes to be amused, and at the same
time to please a child, purchase "A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or, some
Passages in the Life of an Only Son," by J. H Ewing. We will answer for
the delight with which they will read it themselves, and we do not
doubt that the young and fortunate recipients will also like it. The
story is quaint, original, and altogether delightful.'--_Athenaeum_.
'A capital book for a present. No child who is fortunate enough to
possess it will be in a hurry to put it down, for it is a book of
uncommon fascination. The story is good, the principles inculcated
admirable, and some of the illustrations simply delicious.'--_John
Bull_.
LOB-LIE-BY-THE-FIRE; or, the Luck of Lingborough. And other Tales.
Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 2nd Edition. Imp. 16mo. 5_s_.
'A charming tale by another of those clever writers, thanks to
whom the children are now really better served than their
neighbours.'--_Spectator_.
'Mrs. Ewing has written as good a story as her "Brownies," and that is
saying a great deal. "Lob-lie-by-the-fire" has humour and pathos, and
teaches what is right without making children think they are reading a
sermon.'--_Saturday Review_.
SIX TO SIXTEEN: A Story for Girls. With 10 Illustrations by Mrs.
Allingham. 3rd Edition. Small post 8vo. 5_s_.
'The homely good sense and humour of the bulk of the story are set off
by the pathos of its opening and its close, and a soft and beautiful
light, as of dawn and sunset, is thrown round the substantial English
ideal of what a girl's education ought to be, which runs through the
tale.'--_Spectator_.
'It is a beautifully told story, full of humour and pathos, and bright
sketches of scenery and character. It is all told with great
naturalness, and will amuse grown-up people quite as much as children.
In reading the story, we have been struck especially by characteristic
bits of description, which show very happily the writer's appreciation
of child life.'--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
'We have rarely met, on such a modest scale, with characters so ably
and simply drawn ... The merits of the volume, in themselves not small,
are much enhanced by some clever illustrations from the pencil of Mrs.
Allingham.'--_Athenaeum_.
'The tone of the book is pleasant and healthy, and singularly free from
that sentimental, not to say "mawkish," stain which is apt to disfigure
such productions. The illustrations by Mrs. Allingham add a special
attraction to the little volume.'--_Times_.
'It is scarcely necessary to say that Mrs. Ewing's book is one of the
best of the year.'--_Saturday Review_.
'There is in it not only a great deal of common sense, but there is
true humour.... We have not met a healthier or breezier tale for girls
for a long period.'--_Academy_.
JAN OF THE WINDMILL; a Story of the Plains. With 11 Illustrations by
Helen Allingham. Crown 8vo. 8_s_. 6_d_.
'A capital story, which, like all that Mrs. Ewing gives us, will be
read with pleasure Some well-drawn illustrations materially increase
the attractiveness of the volume.'--_City Press_.
_By Mrs. O'Reilly_.
'Mrs. O'Reilly's works need no commendation ... the style is so good,
the narrative so engrossing, and the tone so excellent.'--_John Bull_.
LITTLE PRESCRIPTION, and other Tales. With 6 Illustrations by W. H.
Petherick and others. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
'A worthy successor of some charming little volumes of the same
kind.... The tale from which the title is taken is for its grace and
pathos an especial favourite.'--_Spectator_.
'Mrs. O'Reilly could not write otherwise than well, even if she were to
try.'--_Morning Post_.
CICELY'S CHOICE, A Story for Girls. With a Frontispiece by J. A.
Pasquier. Fcap. 8vo. gilt edges, 3_s_. 6_d_.
'A pleasant story.... It is a book for girls, and grown people will
also enjoy reading it.'--_Athenaeum_.
'A pleasant, well-written, interesting story, likely to be acceptable
to young people who are in their teens.'--_Scotsman_.
GILES'S MINORITY; or, Scenes at the Red House. With 8 Illustrations.
16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
'In one of our former reviews we praised "Deborah's Drawer." "Giles's
Minority" no less deserves our goodwill. It is a picture of
school-room life, and is so well drawn that grown-up readers may
delight in it. In literary excellence this little book is above most of
its fellows.'--_Times_.
DOLL WORLD; or, Play and Earnest. A Study from Real Life. With 8
Illustrations. By C. A. Saltmarsh. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
'It is a capital child's book, and it has a charm for grown-up people
also, as the fairy haze of "long-ago" brightens every page. We are not
ashamed to confess to the "thrilling interest" with which we followed
the history of "Robertina" and "Mabel."'--_Athenaeum_.
DEBORAH'S DRAWER. With 9 Illustrations. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
'Any godmamma who wishes to buy an unusually pretty and
artistically-written gift-book for an eight-year-old pet cannot do
better than spend a florin or two on the contents of "Aunt Deborah's
Drawer."'--_Athenaeum_.
DAISY'S COMPANIONS; or, Scenes from Child Life. A Story for Little
Girls. With 8 Illustrations. 3rd Edit. 16mo. 2_s_. 6_d_.
'If anybody wants a pretty little present for a pretty (and good)
little daughter, or a niece or grand-daughter, we cannot recommend a
better or tastier one than "Daisy's Companions."'--_Times_.
_Captain Marryats Books for Boys_.
Uniform Illustrated Edition, neatly bound in cloth, post 8vo.
3_s_. 6_d_. each; gilt edges, 4_s_. 6_d_.
POOR JACK. With Sixteen | THE SETTLERS IN CANADA.
Illustrations after Designs by | With Illustrations by
Clarkson Stanfield, R.A. | Gilbert and Dalziel.
THE MISSION; or, Scenes in | THE PRIVATEERSMAN.
Africa. With Illustrations by | Adventures by Sea and Land in
John Gilbert. | Civil and Savage Life One
THE PIRATE, AND THREE | Hundred Years Ago. Illustrated
CUTTERS. With Memoir of the | with Eight Steel Engravings.
Author, and 20 Steel Engravings | MASTERMAN READY; or, the
by Clarkson Stanfield, R.A. | Wreck of the Pacific.
Cheap Edition, without | Embellished with Ninety-three
Illustrations, 1_s_. 6_d_. | Engravings on Wood.
A BOY'S LOCKER. A Smaller Edition of Captain Marryat's Books for Boys,
in 12 vols. Fcap. 8vo. in a compact cloth box, 21_s_.
_By Hans Christian Andersen_.
FAIRYTALES AND SKETCHES. Translated by C. C. Peachey, H. Ward, A.
Plesner, &c. With 104 Illustrations by Otto Speckter and others. Crown
8vo. 6_s_.
'The translation most happily hits the delicate quaintness of
Andersen--most happily transposes into simple English words the tender
precision of the famous story-teller; in a keen examination of the book
we scarcely recall a single phrase or turn that obviously could have
been bettered.'--_Daily Telegraph_.
TALES FOR CHILDREN. With 48 Full-page Illustrations by Wehnert, and 57
Small Engravings on Wood by W. Thomas. A new Edition. Crown 8vo. 6_s_.
This and the above volume form the most complete English Edition of
Andersen's Tales.
LATER TALES. Translated from the Danish by Augusta Plesner and H. Ward.
With Illustrations by Otto Speckter, W. Cooper, and other Artists.
Cloth gilt, 3_s_. 6_d_.
* * *
WONDERWORLD. A Collection of Fairy Tales, Old and New. Translated from
the French, German, and Danish. With 4 Coloured Illustrations and
numerous Woodcuts by L. Richter, Oscar Pletsch, and others. Royal 16mo.
cloth, gilt edges, 3_s_. 6_d_.
'It will delight the children, and has in it a wealth of wisdom that
may be of practical service when they have grown into men and
women.'--_Literary World_.
GUESSING STORIES; or, The Surprising Adventures of the Man with the
Extra Pair of Eyes. By the late Archdeacon Freeman. 3rd Edition, 2_s_.
6_d_.
GRIMM'S GAMMER GRETHEL; or, German Fairy Tales and Popular Stories.
Translated by Edgar Taylor. Numerous Woodcuts after G. Cruikshank's
designs. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
LITTLE PLAYS FOR LITTLE PEOPLE; with Hints for Drawing-room
Performances. By Mrs. Chisholm, Author of 'Rana, the Story of a Frog.'
16mo. with Illustrations, 2_s_. 6_d_.
ROBINSON CRUSOE. With a Biographical Account of Defoe. Illustrated with
70 Wood Engravings, chiefly after Designs by Harvey; and 12 Engravings
on Steel after Stothard. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. By E. Wetherell. With 10 Illustrations. Post 8vo.
3_s_. 6_d_.
UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By H. B. Stowe. Illustrated. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
KIRSTIN'S ADVENTURES. A Story of Jutland Life. By the Author of
'Casimir the Little Exile,' &c. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3_s_.
6_d_.
'There is so much true art and natural talent in the book that we are
half inclined to take it away from the boys and girls for whom it is
written.'--_Times_.
KATIE; or, the Simple Heart. By D. Richmond, Author of 'Annie
Maitland.' Illustrated by M. I. Booth. 2nd Edition. Crown 8vo. 3_s_.
6_d_.
'The family life which surrounds Katie is both pretty and natural. The
tone is good, and the plot--we speak from experience--engages a child's
interest with almost too keen a sympathy.'--_Guardian_.
QUEENS OF ENGLAND from the Norman Conquest. By A. Strickland. An
Abridged Edition, with Portrait of Matilda of Flanders. In 1 vol. crown
8vo. cloth, 6_s_. 6_d_.
GLIMPSES INTO PET-LAND. By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A., F.L.S. With
Frontispiece. Fcap. 3_s_. 6_d_.
FRIENDS IN FUR AND FEATHERS. By Gwynfryn. Illustrated with 8 Full-page
Engravings by F. W. Keyl, &c. 5th Edition. Handsomely bound, 3_s_.
6_d_.
'We have already characterised some other book as the best cat-and-dog
book of the season. We said so because we had not seen the present
little book, which is delightful. It is written on an artistic
principle, consisting of actual biographies of certain elephants,
squirrels, blackbirds, and what not, who lived in the flesh; and we
only wish that human biographies were always as entertaining and
instructive.'--_Saturday Review_.
INSECT ARCHITECTURE. By Rennie. Edited by the Rev. J. G. Wood, Author
of 'Homes Without Hands.' Post 8vo. with nearly 200 Illustrations,
5_s_.
THE ENTERTAINING NATURALIST. By Mrs. Loudon. Revised and enlarged by W.
S. Dallas, F.L.S. With nearly 500 Illustrations. Post 8vo. 5_s_.
ANECDOTES OF DOGS. By Edward Jesse. With Illustrations. Post 8vo.
cloth, 5_s_. With 34 Steel Engravings after Cooper, Landseer, &c. 7_s_.
6_d_.
NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. By Gilbert White. Edited by Jesse.
Illustrated with 40 Engravings. Post 8vo. 5_s_.; or, with the Plates
Coloured, 7_s_. 6_d_.
CHARADES, ENIGMAS, AND RIDDLES. Collected by a Cantab. 5th Edition,
enlarged. Illustrated. Fcap. 8vo. 1_s_.
POETRY-BOOK FOR SCHOOLS, illustrated with 37 highly finished Engravings
by C. W. Cope, R.A., W. Helmsley, S. Palmer, F. Skill, G. Thomas, and
H. Weir. Crown 8vo. gilt, 2_s_. 6_d_.; cloth, 1_s_.
GILES WITHERNE; or, the Reward of Disobedience. A Village Tale for the
Young. By the Rev. J. P. Parkinson, D.C.L. 6th Edition. Illustrated by
the Rev. F. W. Mann. Super-royal 16mo. 1_s_.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. By John Bunyan. With 281 Engravings from
Designs by William Harvey. Post 8vo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
OLD NURSERY RHYMES AND CHIMES. Collected and arranged by a Peal of
Bells. Fcap. 4to. Ornamental binding, 2_s_. 6_d_.
NURSERY CAROLS. By the Rev. Dr. Monsell, Rector of St. Nicholas,
Guildford, with upwards of 100 Illustrations by Ludwig Richter and
Oscar Pletsch. Imp. 16mo. 3_s_. 6_d_.
'At once a poet and a child lover, full of fun and yet disposed gently
to instil what is good, Dr. Monsell is inimitable in this particular
department.'--_John Bull_.
* * * * *
LONDON:
GEORGE BELL & SONS, York Street,
Covent Garden.